I See You

Let me begin with where I just finished, where Paul concludes this part of his teaching: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good” (12:21).  Paul calls us to hate evil, remember?  Evil, sin, temptation—it all seeks to overwhelm, to convince us that there’s no other choice, no other way, that it’s hopeless, a hopeless trap.  Bigger than us, stronger.  Know, then, that evil will seek to overcome you.

“There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so,” quoth Hamlet.  He wasn’t just thinking about social thinking: old customs, for example, cultural differences.  His words also, primarily, point to Self—the one doing the thinking—as the standard, Self as the judge of what is good and what is evil: a very old move, indeed.  It’s attractive, for, by such thinking, we can do as we please and not bother with guilt—except to the extent that we have not done as we pleased.  For a legion of reasons, socially, culturally, and legally, doing as we please seems to have become supremely a matter of sexual fulfillment and the technologies available to attain it.  Nothing very new, there.  The Pleasure Principle in a pagan register.  The way through to true wholeness hasn’t changed, either.  Paul speaks to us of the whole armor of God for a reason.  Know how evil tries to work, the ways it uses to try to drag you back into the murk of the swamp.  Learn to recognize evil, to name it, to pray right away and stay on your knees—on your face if need be—until the attack passes.  And it will.

Can evil really be overcome with good?  Where the Spirit of the Lord is, yes!  What does it look like, when evil is overcome?  It looks like Christ on the cross—is that terrifying or tremendous?  What was it the centurion said, at the foot of the cross, seeing Jesus, hearing him?  Grace is power, God-given ability, to choose how we shall respond, the space in which to look with Spirit-enlightened eyes, to breathe with the Spirit and be reminded that there is hope, that there is an alternative.  You don’t have to do this.  It would please God, if you didn’t.

In the moment, tension high, pain acute, yes, we easily forget, we easily deny that there is any choice, any possibility of choice.  We want to lash out.  We have, many times; others still bear the scars.  Well, we have ours, too!  Yes, we do.  We cannot push away the darkness by darkness.  We want relief, release, comfort, happiness!  We want it now.  We’ve bought the lie: this choice, this act, this sin will make it so much better.  Whatever our nature was before our fall, this sin servitude is natural, now.  Stumbling, slipping—normal.  Christ calls us to another way, a way that, at first glance, does not seem or feel very appealing, satisfying, or even very useful.  Christ calls us to exhibit Christ.  O God, keep me safe from suffering.  We know this prayer.  O God, be with me in my suffering.  This is Christ.  The Spirit is with us to educate, train, and discipline us in exhibiting Jesus.  In our age of exhibitionism, exhibit Christ.

Jesus didn’t take it out on others; he took it to the Lord in prayer.  “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Lk 23:34).  And there are those who intend to hurt us, emotionally, at least, insult us, who feel a little better if they can make our lives a little more miserable.  Eventually, it isn’t so difficult to hate them.  It’s easy to smolder with anger about many things that happen in this life, happen because of what people do, and fail to do, what they say, and fail to say.

And we are called, as Christians, to hate . . . evil.  “Let those who love the Lord hate evil” (Ps 97:10).  “To fear the Lord is to hate evil” (Pr 8:13).  Have nothing to do with it.  Make no room for it.  Yes, we value tolerance; will we tolerate evil?  But as with so many things in this life, how we hate matters, what we do with our hatred of evil matters: how we express it and refrain from expressing it.  In several places, Paul for strong reason urges us to self-restraint and self-discipline: this is how, by grace, we channel energy away from the destructive into constructive directions.  There is deep wisdom in hating what is evil, as well as in knowing what evil actually is.

Christians are going to apply themselves to building on the true and only foundation: God’s love for all in Jesus Christ.  And it is love for all, available to all.  God hates evil and those who do it, Scripture is clear.  And God calls those stuck in evil to come to Him, and know freedom, peace, and joy.  God’s love is not like what the world calls love, demands that we call love or else.  God’s love opens us for a new, righteous comprehension of self, the purpose and fulfillment of self.

Yes, there are those who will try to tear down what we try to build.  There are others who will want to help with the upbuilding, they might not be Christian, but they can see when something good is being done, when something good is happening.  A life of faith is light in a dark place, hope amid confusion, sorrow, and despair.  There are those who prefer the darkness.  There are others drawn to light.  Yes, there will be adversaries, and allies.  Others will remain indifferent.  You know them; I know them.  They aren’t hostile to us, they’ll put up with us, but they aren’t coming to church, they aren’t picking up a Bible, they’ll patiently sit through a prayer at the dinner table, but they aren’t praying and they don’t pray.  They aren’t going to pretend to have a faith they don’t have.  Vital relationship with God is not a topic that excites or interests them.

Others don’t want to hear about sin or consider the topic: they’re good people and God, if there is one, is good, supposedly—right?—so, all will be well!  As for any life other than or after this life, why bother with what can’t be known?  Be good, be nice, like the Christmas elves say.  Do no harm.  At least don’t be a jerk.  Still others know they could never sustain the sort of life to which Christ calls people—they’re not good enough, pure enough, strong enough.  Research suggests that easily only twenty percent of people in an area—if that many—are attending church with any regularity—and what counts as regular attendance has changed over the last thirty years.  One out of five.  Two out of ten.  I’ve passed by many closed churches, beloved.  Those churches did not close because nothing good was happening there or because the Spirit had cast them aside.  People around outside were indifferent; there were those inside who drifted into indifference, had other, more attractive interests they found cost them less.  They weren’t getting anything out of church, anyway.  Attrition takes a toll.

“Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse” (12:14).  To bless, just for the sake of clarity here—to bless is to impart good upon someone: a good deed, a good word, providing comfort where there may be sorrow, a timely reminder of the reality of help.  To bless is to show the presence and nature of God who blesses.  To bless is to share the gift of holiness.  To be holy is not to be perfect, but to belong to God and conscientiously, daily, to live like it, even when temptation is trying to drug us into compliance or lashing us hard.  To bless is to reveal Christ.  Bless those who persecute you.  Well, I’m supposing most of us here have never experienced out and out persecution, not on account of our faith, anyway.  We know we have brothers and sisters in Christ in this world who are under persecution on account of their faith—their lives are at risk.  How do you suppose they might hear these words of Paul, “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse”?

The apostle is saying bless those who make a habit of insulting you, who seem to live to make your life hell.  We say, no way.  Paul will also urge all Christ followers not to repay evil with evil.  What Paul is saying could easily lead us to conclude that he truly expects us, asks, and wants us, to put up with a lot in this life.  You’d be right to draw that conclusion.  Live to bless, even when those around you make it difficult, don’t exactly encourage you.  I suppose we’ve all done a kindness for someone who never acknowledged it, though we weren’t looking for acknowledgment, necessarily.  Maybe too often we do something because we are looking for thanks.  Well, we’re hungry to know that we are valued.

People want to be known in a world where nobody really knows others or seems to want to.  We know we belong when we know we are valued.  Let’s all remember that as we go about our daily living outside these doors.  And acknowledgment shall come, in due time, beloved: “Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will reward them for what they have done” (Pr 19:17).  “Give, and it will be given to you.  A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap.  For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you” (Lk 6:38).  Later in Romans, Paul will remind us that “each of us will give an account of ourselves to God” (14:12).  In other words, God sees all, misses nothing, whether done for harm or for blessing.  All will be taken into account on the Day of the Lord.  “For the Son of Man is going to come in his Father’s glory with His angels, and then he will reward each person according to what they have done” (Mt 16:27).

So, despite all that is arrayed against us, we shall live for righteousness, flourishing in vital relationship with God, growing always in the truth of who we are in Christ.  Recognize the signs of temptation and turn away; temptation won’t.  We must close the door in its face, every time.  In a real sense, we are not living for this life but the life to come.  Let us strive to live as if we were already there.  In Christ, we truly are.  We live knowing that, “If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light.  It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work” (1 Cor 3:12-13).  Lord, have mercy.

He goes on to urge us to “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn” (12:15).  Be in sympathy with those around you—in other words, be attentive, see them.  This has been a recurring note through this stretch of Romans.  See one another.  My father could be weepy: he was a sensitive soul.  For some reason, we were watching The Joy Luck Club—anybody remember that one?  Anyway, there’s a scene where a mother turns to her adult daughter and tells her, “I see you.”  Not like, oh, there you are, but you are in my life, and I think about you more than you have ever realized.  Well—I bet my father was glad the lights were off—he lost it, right there, and I had no idea why . . . until I began to think about it.  What a blessing it is, to know that we are seen.

We won’t be attentive if we aren’t looking; we won’t be attentive if we aren’t conscientious about looking.  It feels like it costs us less, not to see.  I suppose we’ve nearly all of us had the experience of walking into the school lunchroom and noticing the kid sitting by himself, or herself—maybe that’s even worse!  It’s bad enough in elementary school.  God help them by the time they’re in high school!  Yes, some seem to prefer to be loners—I wonder, sometimes.  Most, I think, would be so happy to have someone to sit with.  It can get lonely, and vulnerable!  It takes courage to cross the unseen but definite line from the many to the one—the exclusion zone can be wide!  Each of us lives surrounded by hundreds of people.  How many do we actually see, bother to see?  Jesus stopped for the one: might we?

Being a people who choose to bless, a people who set ourselves conscientiously to notice and to act for blessing—this fosters harmony.  Oh, how our society, how our churches, would benefit from actively nurturing harmony.  A more literal translation of Paul’s Greek here reminds us of what he says elsewhere: be of the same mind.  The mind Paul has in mind is the mind of Christ: let us have “the same attitude of mind toward each other that Christ Jesus had” (Rom 15:5); “In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus” (Phil 2:5): a mindset of humble service in obedience, that perfect submission we sing about as we sing the dear old hymn.  Submitted to the Lord, to serve one another.  Our Lord calls us to love one another in deed as well as word, in actions as well as in principle, as James and John also remind us.  We are called to love one another in Spirit and truth.  God shows us His love; let’s show it, too.  One of the wiser things I’ve heard in this life is this: love looks like something.

I say these things, not because we are not loving one another.  I say these things because how we love, at times, has a way of going on auto-pilot.  None of this is carping criticism; it’s all reminder, and me urging all of us—this one included!—to rise to love’s call.

But what if dissension should arise, even here?  It has, over the years, as I have heard.  No, not often, praise God.  People have left, feeling hurt and angry; it happens.  Dissension will come again, eventually.  It must, broken, hurting messes as we are.  Every three to four years, session gets a letter (always anonymous, you know) sharing in concern what “people are saying” but are “afraid to say.”  They’re not looking to kindle dissension, of course—it’s already here . . . the letter writer is just concerned that nobody in a position to do something about it is.  If we could just go back to how we used to be, when everything was better.  Adam and Eve thought so, too.

What if a brother or sister happens to go off the rails?  We work through it, pray through it, disciple through it, together.  Beloved, it is my keen grief that brothers and sisters who have strayed do not seek the reforming, redeeming help of the Spirit in the congregation; they go away—astray and away.  They will not be counseled.  They will not be told that pursuing their broken desires can only cause destruction.  They will not be restored.  They are right, and we are wrong.  They know what love truly is; they must give expression to their truest self—the demonic desires driving them!—they know all our words are a thinnest veneer over hatred.  They know this.

And what does God tell us about our deepest, truest self?  Do we know?  Dare we know?  Those who wandered off their own way were happy to receive our love, so long as it did not call them to rise in Christ in any way contrary to their preferences and predilections—a Christianity they liked rather than a faith they didn’t.  Beloved, all rising in Christ is contrary to our nature—it’s difficult, painful, and slow!  This is why, as Paul has explained, in Christ by grace through faith, God replaces our nature with Christ’s nature, the Spirit-watered, Spirit-warmed seed of his nature.  This is redemption.  Beloved, sin has a hell of a hold on these hearts, and let’s never forget it.  Let’s remember, also, and remind one another, that God is here, too.