Concerning Poor Theology and Love Unto Death, Part III: Suffering and Kingdom
“But Jews came from Antioch and Iconium, and having won over the multitudes, they stoned Paul and dragged him out of the city, supposing him to be dead. But while the disciples stood around him, he arose and entered the city. And the next day he went away with Barnabas to Derbe. And after they had preached the gospel to that city and had made many disciples, they returned to Lystra and to Iconium and to Antioch, strengthening the souls of the disciples, encouraging them to continue in the faith, and saying, ‘Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.’” Acts 14:19-22
When I read the writings of Paul (or, in the case of Acts, the writings of Luke) it is usually strenuous for me to envision what his life was actually like. Paul was hardcore. He was probably uncomfortable to be around. He was one of those guys that always had something “spiritual” to say. I think that when you get to the point where someone seems too spiritual, it is true that they could be faking it or dressing the part or simply good at memorizing cliché, or you could be backsliding by downsizing their appeal to an authentic awe of God’s Word, prayer, evangelism, etc., a false accusation of course, into a fictitious act of spiritual nothingness, which, in the end, for you, psychologically elevates your own clever spirituality, actually illuminating its moldiness. I see these sorts of social configurations all the time, where someone will suggest prayer, or use a passage of Scripture in a conversation, and someone else will respond with, “Do you always have to be so spiritual?” Or, sometimes “over-spiritualization” is avoided altogether simply by never bringing up spiritual matters. We know how to play these games. No one wants to be labeled “extremist” or “fanatic” because there are certain expectations that come with such a rank, right? Today, it is easier to merely blend in. Commonality produces strength, the Christian culture tells us, and it is better to keep all acts of extremity within the community of believers. And, in the process, the Christian culture straightjackets those who feel the burning and hear the calling to jump off of the ship into the ferocious sea.
With Paul it was pretty black and white. There is a task, it is centered on the work of Jesus Christ, he suffered for it, because of his suffering salvation was made possible; therefore he must do the same. He must live to die, not because it was fun to be a rebel or start a fight, but because the closer he came to death for the glory of Christ (key motivation), the closer he came to Christ himself and His death and resurrection. My aim here will be to understand Paul’s heart, how he trumps common sense, safety, precaution, preservation, limitation, and small love by pointing to the cross. My feeling is that Paul would weep if he were allowed to know about the Church’s ministry habits, including my own. May the sheer incomparability of God’s Word steer us, shape us, break us, and compel us in the next moments, by the grace of Christ and through the Holy Spirit, to a further abandonment.
Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.
We find Paul in Acts 14 right in the middle of his first missionary expedition following his awesome conversion experience that interrupted his journey to persecute Christians in Damascus (Acts 9). Paul had just preached in Iconium to a mixed audience of Jews and Gentiles acquiring many believers (14:1). However, many of the embittered Jews “stirred up the minds of the Gentiles” (14:2), yet still, the disciples “Spent a long time there speaking boldly with reliance upon the Lord, who was bearing witness to the word of His grace, granting that signs and wonders be done by their hands” (14:3). However, the Jewish conspirators instigated a divide that threatened to explicate the disciples’ work, so they fled to Lystra, Lycaonia, and Derbe. Paul and Barnabus were mistaken for deities when Paul healed a lame boy; Paul was called “Hermes”, Barnabas “Zeus”. They petitioned vehemently to the people to stop this obscene and ludicrous worship of them, “Men, why are you doing these things? We are also men of the same nature as you, and preach the gospel to you in order that you should turn from these vain things to a living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea, and all that is in them” (14:15). Meanwhile, those “rock-in-your-shoe” Jews continued to cause uproar among the Gentiles and they stoned Paul leaving him battered, apparently, to death. What happens next is unthinkable. Paul gets up after being dropped off outside the city (the people thought he was dead) and returns to the same city to preach some more, and the Scriptures say, “After they had preached the gospel to that city and had made many disciples, they returned to Lystra and to Iconium and to Antioch” (14:21).
I would love to review Paul’s insurance policy. How many preachers do you know who endure physical beatings before their evening message? The passage leaves this out, but I often wonder what the disciples were telling Paul when he considered re-entering the city that almost killed him. “Hey Paul, bro, we don’t think you should go back there. They almost killed you! No, you don’t understand, it’s too dangerous, you are injured, and you need to heal before going back there, which is a stupid idea anyway. Paul, you have already made your point, they don’t want you back, let’s go somewhere a little easier, possibly a little friendlier.” But, Paul goes back, preaches a message of grace and love, and acquires many disciples. He then comforts the disciples in their faith and says, “Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God” (14:22b). Gee, some comforting words, huh.
Is this not a message that juxtaposes modern thought? For many, Christianity has become a medicine, or quick fix; a remedy of sorts from the sufferings of the world. It is membership without involvement, or association without commitment. It has become a secret instead of a proclamation. It has sought to keep up with culture, run the same race, and adopt the same ideology. Our churches look like miniature (or in some cases major) businesses. The American dream has had a global “el Nino-like” effect, disturbing the climate of worship, home-life, and ministerial commitment. Christians have learned to categorize “ministry” into a higher calling only for the elite Christians, in a sense, freeing themselves from front-line fighting. Christianity has turned political tagging the Republican Party, for some reason, as the truly “Christian” party giving Christians something smaller to fight over. Philosophically, many Christians have been infected with the postmodern virus producing a lazy Christianity that is more like a preference than a worldview. Faith has become personalized, birthed within the individual, instead of a gift from God. It seems that the more we travel away from the biblical witness within the cultural tide, the more it feels like the lost city of Atlantis, or something like that. I hope you understand that I have made several generalizations here. I do believe there is a movement of God taking place and that we are going to see amazing things in our day. He is in control, He is doing it, He is moving, He is working salvation for Him, He is instructing, He is inventing, He is maintaining, He is intervening; He has a strategy, He has an idea, He has a vision, He has the resources. He knows what he is doing. He is not affected by cultural trends.
Paul says something similar to Acts 14:22 to his son-in-the-faith Timothy, “And indeed, all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Tim 3:12). He says to the Thessalonians concerning the mistreatment and opposition he had received in Philippi with the hopes of strengthening the church of Thessalonica’s faith, “So that no man may be disturbed by these afflictions; for you yourselves know that we have been destined for this” (1 Thess 3:3). Peter understands the manner of his calling in Christ, “For you have been called for this purpose, since Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example for you to follow in His steps” (1 Pet 2:21). John gets in on the suffering brigade in Revelation, “I, John, your brother and fellow partaker in the tribulation and kingdom and perseverance which are in Jesus…” (Rev 1:9). There is an understanding that unites the biblical authors concerning the manner in which they were called. Sufferings, tribulation, enmity, strife, pain, antagonism, are all a part of the Kingdom of God. In fact, it seems that we can conclude from these passages that they are, in essence, the Kingdom of God. We need pages and pages to fully handle this idea, but a few more paragraphs will have to suffice for our sake, mainly for your sake.
Paul makes an interesting statement in Colossians 1:24. Paul has just beautifully portrayed the centrality of Christ in cataclysmic fashion teaching his deity, his work in creation, his divine authority, and his specific works in salvation. He then says, “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I do my share on behalf of His body (which is the church) in filling up that which is lacking in Christ’s afflictions.” What is he saying? Is he undermining, or belittling the atoning work of Christ? It sounds like he is. But, in actuality, he is making a profound connection between his own sufferings and the Kingdom of Christ. At the cross there is definitely completion. Our salvation was finalized, our redemption was purchased, and we became the righteousness of Christ, and Paul would wholeheartedly agree with these claims. But, concerning his ministry, which he defines in 1:25ff, there is a deficit, a hole of sorts, that can only be filled with suffering, in order to communicate to the Gentiles the specific, unordinary, world-changing love of Christ, which was accomplished and fully revealed through Jesus’ own suffering at Calvary.
We must quickly apply this to our modern setting. It’s not that Paul and the other biblical authors are teaching us to seek persecution. In fact, to say, “I want to be a martyr,” can be a dangerous motivation. Paul is hoping, rather, to expand the capacity of our hearts and minds to contain in them the love of Christ and the model he left us to follow. We are to love in such a way that would not see persecution as a barrier, but as a blessing. For through our sufferings we partake in the sufferings of Christ, and in so doing, enter into the Kingdom of Christ.
Let me apply this with a personal story, and with this I will close. I recently had an opportunity to minister to a homeless person that had made his way onto our campus here at Southern. After talking with him I offered my room for him to stay in and he actually complied. However, a security guard came and told him he had to leave campus. After a few conversations with some brothers and sisters in Christ and the security guard, all agreeing with the decision of the security guard, I felt perplexed, confused, and hurt in my heart over such a swift resistance to this man who obviously needed something, maybe even beyond physical accommodations. He didn’t look like everyone else, yes, but since when did that matter? He could have been a murderer, or rapist, or psychedelic freak, but that never stopped Jesus. Possessions could have been stolen, lives could have been lost, the parents of students could have sued, and the seminary could have been shut down, all at the expense of extending love and hospitality to this man. But, isn’t this exactly what Paul is teaching? I walked with Adam off campus and told him along the way that even if he wanted to kill me, it wouldn’t change my pursuit of him, or what I was offering to him. I came to find out later that he was a brother in Christ and shared the same heart. I feel that if death was our only limitation to outreach and ministry, then we would see many believe in Christ and His work of salvation on the cross. Let us love the world around us with relentless love, fearing nothing, and let us follow Christ with our crosses on our backs, for the glory of Jesus Christ.
When I read the writings of Paul (or, in the case of Acts, the writings of Luke) it is usually strenuous for me to envision what his life was actually like. Paul was hardcore. He was probably uncomfortable to be around. He was one of those guys that always had something “spiritual” to say. I think that when you get to the point where someone seems too spiritual, it is true that they could be faking it or dressing the part or simply good at memorizing cliché, or you could be backsliding by downsizing their appeal to an authentic awe of God’s Word, prayer, evangelism, etc., a false accusation of course, into a fictitious act of spiritual nothingness, which, in the end, for you, psychologically elevates your own clever spirituality, actually illuminating its moldiness. I see these sorts of social configurations all the time, where someone will suggest prayer, or use a passage of Scripture in a conversation, and someone else will respond with, “Do you always have to be so spiritual?” Or, sometimes “over-spiritualization” is avoided altogether simply by never bringing up spiritual matters. We know how to play these games. No one wants to be labeled “extremist” or “fanatic” because there are certain expectations that come with such a rank, right? Today, it is easier to merely blend in. Commonality produces strength, the Christian culture tells us, and it is better to keep all acts of extremity within the community of believers. And, in the process, the Christian culture straightjackets those who feel the burning and hear the calling to jump off of the ship into the ferocious sea.
With Paul it was pretty black and white. There is a task, it is centered on the work of Jesus Christ, he suffered for it, because of his suffering salvation was made possible; therefore he must do the same. He must live to die, not because it was fun to be a rebel or start a fight, but because the closer he came to death for the glory of Christ (key motivation), the closer he came to Christ himself and His death and resurrection. My aim here will be to understand Paul’s heart, how he trumps common sense, safety, precaution, preservation, limitation, and small love by pointing to the cross. My feeling is that Paul would weep if he were allowed to know about the Church’s ministry habits, including my own. May the sheer incomparability of God’s Word steer us, shape us, break us, and compel us in the next moments, by the grace of Christ and through the Holy Spirit, to a further abandonment.
Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God.
We find Paul in Acts 14 right in the middle of his first missionary expedition following his awesome conversion experience that interrupted his journey to persecute Christians in Damascus (Acts 9). Paul had just preached in Iconium to a mixed audience of Jews and Gentiles acquiring many believers (14:1). However, many of the embittered Jews “stirred up the minds of the Gentiles” (14:2), yet still, the disciples “Spent a long time there speaking boldly with reliance upon the Lord, who was bearing witness to the word of His grace, granting that signs and wonders be done by their hands” (14:3). However, the Jewish conspirators instigated a divide that threatened to explicate the disciples’ work, so they fled to Lystra, Lycaonia, and Derbe. Paul and Barnabus were mistaken for deities when Paul healed a lame boy; Paul was called “Hermes”, Barnabas “Zeus”. They petitioned vehemently to the people to stop this obscene and ludicrous worship of them, “Men, why are you doing these things? We are also men of the same nature as you, and preach the gospel to you in order that you should turn from these vain things to a living God, who made the heaven and the earth and the sea, and all that is in them” (14:15). Meanwhile, those “rock-in-your-shoe” Jews continued to cause uproar among the Gentiles and they stoned Paul leaving him battered, apparently, to death. What happens next is unthinkable. Paul gets up after being dropped off outside the city (the people thought he was dead) and returns to the same city to preach some more, and the Scriptures say, “After they had preached the gospel to that city and had made many disciples, they returned to Lystra and to Iconium and to Antioch” (14:21).
I would love to review Paul’s insurance policy. How many preachers do you know who endure physical beatings before their evening message? The passage leaves this out, but I often wonder what the disciples were telling Paul when he considered re-entering the city that almost killed him. “Hey Paul, bro, we don’t think you should go back there. They almost killed you! No, you don’t understand, it’s too dangerous, you are injured, and you need to heal before going back there, which is a stupid idea anyway. Paul, you have already made your point, they don’t want you back, let’s go somewhere a little easier, possibly a little friendlier.” But, Paul goes back, preaches a message of grace and love, and acquires many disciples. He then comforts the disciples in their faith and says, “Through many tribulations we must enter the kingdom of God” (14:22b). Gee, some comforting words, huh.
Is this not a message that juxtaposes modern thought? For many, Christianity has become a medicine, or quick fix; a remedy of sorts from the sufferings of the world. It is membership without involvement, or association without commitment. It has become a secret instead of a proclamation. It has sought to keep up with culture, run the same race, and adopt the same ideology. Our churches look like miniature (or in some cases major) businesses. The American dream has had a global “el Nino-like” effect, disturbing the climate of worship, home-life, and ministerial commitment. Christians have learned to categorize “ministry” into a higher calling only for the elite Christians, in a sense, freeing themselves from front-line fighting. Christianity has turned political tagging the Republican Party, for some reason, as the truly “Christian” party giving Christians something smaller to fight over. Philosophically, many Christians have been infected with the postmodern virus producing a lazy Christianity that is more like a preference than a worldview. Faith has become personalized, birthed within the individual, instead of a gift from God. It seems that the more we travel away from the biblical witness within the cultural tide, the more it feels like the lost city of Atlantis, or something like that. I hope you understand that I have made several generalizations here. I do believe there is a movement of God taking place and that we are going to see amazing things in our day. He is in control, He is doing it, He is moving, He is working salvation for Him, He is instructing, He is inventing, He is maintaining, He is intervening; He has a strategy, He has an idea, He has a vision, He has the resources. He knows what he is doing. He is not affected by cultural trends.
Paul says something similar to Acts 14:22 to his son-in-the-faith Timothy, “And indeed, all who desire to live godly in Christ Jesus will be persecuted” (2 Tim 3:12). He says to the Thessalonians concerning the mistreatment and opposition he had received in Philippi with the hopes of strengthening the church of Thessalonica’s faith, “So that no man may be disturbed by these afflictions; for you yourselves know that we have been destined for this” (1 Thess 3:3). Peter understands the manner of his calling in Christ, “For you have been called for this purpose, since Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example for you to follow in His steps” (1 Pet 2:21). John gets in on the suffering brigade in Revelation, “I, John, your brother and fellow partaker in the tribulation and kingdom and perseverance which are in Jesus…” (Rev 1:9). There is an understanding that unites the biblical authors concerning the manner in which they were called. Sufferings, tribulation, enmity, strife, pain, antagonism, are all a part of the Kingdom of God. In fact, it seems that we can conclude from these passages that they are, in essence, the Kingdom of God. We need pages and pages to fully handle this idea, but a few more paragraphs will have to suffice for our sake, mainly for your sake.
Paul makes an interesting statement in Colossians 1:24. Paul has just beautifully portrayed the centrality of Christ in cataclysmic fashion teaching his deity, his work in creation, his divine authority, and his specific works in salvation. He then says, “Now I rejoice in my sufferings for your sake, and in my flesh I do my share on behalf of His body (which is the church) in filling up that which is lacking in Christ’s afflictions.” What is he saying? Is he undermining, or belittling the atoning work of Christ? It sounds like he is. But, in actuality, he is making a profound connection between his own sufferings and the Kingdom of Christ. At the cross there is definitely completion. Our salvation was finalized, our redemption was purchased, and we became the righteousness of Christ, and Paul would wholeheartedly agree with these claims. But, concerning his ministry, which he defines in 1:25ff, there is a deficit, a hole of sorts, that can only be filled with suffering, in order to communicate to the Gentiles the specific, unordinary, world-changing love of Christ, which was accomplished and fully revealed through Jesus’ own suffering at Calvary.
We must quickly apply this to our modern setting. It’s not that Paul and the other biblical authors are teaching us to seek persecution. In fact, to say, “I want to be a martyr,” can be a dangerous motivation. Paul is hoping, rather, to expand the capacity of our hearts and minds to contain in them the love of Christ and the model he left us to follow. We are to love in such a way that would not see persecution as a barrier, but as a blessing. For through our sufferings we partake in the sufferings of Christ, and in so doing, enter into the Kingdom of Christ.
Let me apply this with a personal story, and with this I will close. I recently had an opportunity to minister to a homeless person that had made his way onto our campus here at Southern. After talking with him I offered my room for him to stay in and he actually complied. However, a security guard came and told him he had to leave campus. After a few conversations with some brothers and sisters in Christ and the security guard, all agreeing with the decision of the security guard, I felt perplexed, confused, and hurt in my heart over such a swift resistance to this man who obviously needed something, maybe even beyond physical accommodations. He didn’t look like everyone else, yes, but since when did that matter? He could have been a murderer, or rapist, or psychedelic freak, but that never stopped Jesus. Possessions could have been stolen, lives could have been lost, the parents of students could have sued, and the seminary could have been shut down, all at the expense of extending love and hospitality to this man. But, isn’t this exactly what Paul is teaching? I walked with Adam off campus and told him along the way that even if he wanted to kill me, it wouldn’t change my pursuit of him, or what I was offering to him. I came to find out later that he was a brother in Christ and shared the same heart. I feel that if death was our only limitation to outreach and ministry, then we would see many believe in Christ and His work of salvation on the cross. Let us love the world around us with relentless love, fearing nothing, and let us follow Christ with our crosses on our backs, for the glory of Jesus Christ.
posted by Joey Eaton at 11:02 AM
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