Thursday, November 12, 2020 (today’s lectionary)
Memorial of Saint Josaphat, Bishop and Martyr
Secured by love
I have experienced much joy and encouragement from your love. Refresh my heart in Christ.
When I read Paul’s letter to his friend Philemon asking him to receive Onesimus, I can only imagine. I have not been carried from country to country obligated to another in slavery. I have not been moved from plantation to plantation without being asked, or whipped when I spoke up for myself. And Paul? After years of obedience to Christ and persecution for his sake, he no longer lives in his old Pharisee-Roman arrogance, but he has to push it away: “Although I have the full right in Christ to order you to do what is proper … may I not tell you that you owe me your very self.”
The Lord secures justice for the oppressed and gives food to the hungry. The Lord sets captives free and protects strangers. He sustains the orphans and the widows. He is the vine, and we are the branches.
How does God manage to be loving but firm at the same time? James Dobson called that “tough love,” and it’s sure been hard for me. The internal key is to figure out what love is, and always build on that love rather than anything else. Effectiveness, etiquette, excellence … none of those are the goal. Only to love. Anything else comes to mind? Push it away, as Paul did: “I rather urge you out of love.”
Jesus won’t settle for anything else, but more than anyone he bases this firm demand on love. It’s just that we can’t stand on his love for our own ends, not effectiveness or dignity or honor or success. And if we do, we’ll regret it, because Jesus will be gone when we look over to see him tomorrow. The Kingdom of God belongs to God, and I can live in it, but never possess it for myself.
The coming of the Kingdom of God cannot be observed. It is already among you. And there will be days to come when you long to see, but you will not.
Jesus tells his friends not to imagine they see him in small things, because his presence when he returns will be unmistakable, like lightning that flashes across the sky. God is not something I describe or define or catalog, or organize in any personal way. God happens to me. The Kingdom of God happens to me. Being and blessing happen to me. Balance happens to me.
Oh yes, to lose my instinct to be the subject and at last become the object of the sentence of God, that’s my desire. Or so I say. Perhaps this bud of desire only really ripens on my deathbed. But there are moments, at least, when God just takes over, and all I can do is gasp and gaze with awe, and know, and be in love.
(Philemon, Psalm 146, John 15, Luke 17)
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