Truth 101: Something Both Told and Lived

What is truth? ~ Pontius Pilate in John 18:38

Just Answer Truthfully!

It seems that there has always been confusion about “the truth.”  People insist that the truth exists.  One old television show insisted that “the truth is out there.”  In court, we take an oath to tell the truth, as if to say, “I promise that I am telling the truth when I tell you that I will tell the truth!”  Jesus was even asked the question, “What is truth?”  He was asked not by a philosopher or a theologian, but by a politician! Ironic, isn’t it?  But it really happened that way.  Pontius Pilate, the Roman governor of the province of Israel, pulled Jesus aside after Jesus was arrested and brought to Pilate to be sentenced to death.  Pilate, after several questions, asked: “What is truth?” (John 18:38)

Jesus, in this scene, had just affirmed Pilate’s previous question, which was: “So, you are a king, then?” (Remember, Jesus was charged with sedition and blasphemy for allegedly claiming to be “King of the Jews.”).  Jesus’ response to Pilate: “What you say is true.  Everyone who is on the side of truth listens to me” (John 18:37). 

Pilate becomes confused, it seems, since he basically admits in the very next verse that he himself is struggling as to what the truth really is!  He is not alone.  And he is certainly not the first politician to suffer from this kind of confusion.  In fairness, even preacher types wrestle with this from time to time: What really is the truth?

Not Just a Set of Facts

Jesus helps us with this all the time.  The answer to what real truth is will not be found in endless philosophical games or debates, although debates surely have their place.  It is just that in debates, the “truth” is not always the winner. This includes court cases as well.  The winner in such matters is usually the one who is the most convincing.  Jesus experienced this a bit later in the above narrative when the crowd (many of whom had been paid off by the ones who arrested him) yelled “Crucify him!”  They were the loudest, Pilate did not have strong enough interest in the real truth, and Pilate gave in.  The winners of the case, we now know, were not the most truthful voices. 

So, this business of finding the truth can be more complicated than it first appears.  Facts get exchanged, spun toward a particular side, and are interpreted as either the truth or not the truth.  Facts matter, but only if they are facts that are not shaped by a one-sided, self-centered agenda.  To echo Pilate, then: What is truth, anyway?  Jesus’ own words can help us with this.

A Few True Things About Truth

First, truth centers on Jesus: His words and His ways.  Jesus says so Himself: “All who are on the side of truth listen to me.”  That is to say, all who have any interest in the truth listen and look to Jesus.  For Christians, this first step may go something like this: 

• Is what I am saying the kind of representation that Jesus would give of this situation?  
• Are my interpretations and attitude in line with Jesus’ approach to these things?  
• If not, then something is missing: most likely it is the “whole truth” that is missing (or at least part of the truth!). 

More specifically, is my reporting of the facts in harmony not only with the way in which Jesus would see them, but also shared in the same manner as Jesus?  What is His manner?  The Bible indicates that the manner of Jesus in all things is centered in love.  No wonder the Apostle Paul later writes that we are to “speak the truth in love,” so that we may “in all things grow into the maturity of Christ” (Ephesians 4:15). 

What Does That Really Mean?

It seems that based upon these two things – the manner and character of Christ (this whole "speaking the truth in love" approach– that I can simply share facts in a clouded, self-centered, or mean-spirited way and still miss the truth, if I am not interested in the most loving and Christ-like result.  And it seems that if I am claiming to love but I am leaving out key facts (the way those who arrested Jesus did, and the way false witnesses or spin doctors always do), then I am also missing the truth: the whole truth: the truth centered in the person and work of Jesus Himself. 

I am tired of the saturation of half-truths, which according to the Bible’s definition, really are not truths at all. 

When a person is in recovery from addiction, he or she must, according to the best counselors and researchers, take what the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous call a “fearless moral inventory.”  That means they must fearlessly yet lovingly start telling the truth about themselves, their choices, key events in their lives, and even their weaknesses.  Only then can there be any progress toward healing.

Not as Cold and Hard After All

There’s an old George Jones song that is aptly titled. The singer represents a voice that is confronting a man who has betrayed one he loves (it’s a country song… what did you expect?).  The words of the voice of confrontation go like this:

You don’t know who I am / But I know all about you;
I’ve come to talk to you tonight/ About the things I’ve seen you do;
I’ve come to set the record straight/ I’ve come to shine the light on you;
Let me introduce myself / I am the cold, hard truth. (Songwriter: Jamie O’hara)

The thing that scares people about the truth is that when we have hardened ourselves with lies and self-centeredness and the truth confronts us, it seems cold and hard.  It is quite humbling and sometimes even downright embarrassing to face the truth.  But the One who is the truth is not trying to be cold and hard at all.  Instead, He is seeking to make our lives a place where the truth – the love of Christ, the manner of Christ – is free to live. 

This freedom begins with a willingness to ask the question that Pilate asked: What is truth?  But it only comes to full fruition when we, unlike Pilate, are willing to allow the truth to cut away the self-centeredness that stands in the way of the full Truth – the person and work of Christ – to shine through our words and our actions.  The cold, hard truth is that we need more of this loving, transformative truth in all areas of our church and of our world.

Two Lessons From the Cross

The Cross: Separating Followers From Admirers

I recently read about an encounter that the great civil rights leader and Baptist preacher Clarence Jordan (a white man from Georgia who started an integrated Christian community) once had with his own brother.  Jordan’s brother was then a lawyer, who would later become a justice in the Georgia Supreme Court.  Clarence asked his brother to represent his racially integrated community as their attorney.  Clarence’s brother refused.  “Didn’t we agree to follow Jesus when we made our commitments to Christ?” Clarence asked his brother.  “Yes, but I follow Jesus up to a point,” Clarence’s brother replied.

“Is that point up to the cross?” Clarence asked.

“Yes,” his brother said.  “I will go to the cross, but I’m not about to get myself crucified!”

“Then,” Clarence replied sadly to his brother, “you are not a true disciple.  You are an admirer of Jesus, but not a disciple.”  [Thanks to Matt Friedman for this story]. 

The cross of Jesus is truly the crossroad of the entire Christian faith.  It is the benchmark of what it means to follow Jesus with one’s whole life.  Jesus’ admonition to His disciples about what it means to be a true Christian – Christ follower – is to “take up your cross and follow me.”  These words gained more impact as they observed Jesus suffering and dying on that first Good Friday.  The disciples watched as their Lord and Teacher literally took up the cross and obeyed God to the fullest extent, forgoing comforts and praise in order to demonstrate the extent of the love of God.  Clarence Jordan was right in his assessment.  Admirers stand at a distance and say, “I am glad Jesus did that.”  Followers are those who say, “Because Jesus did this, I do not have to fear even if it means sacrificing my own reputation, my own comfort, or my very life for the sake of the good news of Jesus.” 

This brings us to the two key lessons of the cross.  The cross is more than just a place where Jesus took our place.  It is a demonstration of the power of God’s promise to love and an illustration of what Jesus was trying to teach on that first Maundy Thursday (John 13): loving us to the very end and beyond

Lesson One: How Dark Sin Is

Good Friday services are generally somber, reflective and dark – literally dark.  Crosses are covered in black cloth.  Lights are low.  We recapture the mood as best we can of the night when the holy, loving, and righteous Son of God allowed Himself to be put to death unjustly so that the love of God can be seen.  And as we gaze at the full extent of the love of God in the death of One who is willing to be put to death unjustly due to His commitment to love and peace, we simultaneously see how dark sin can get.  How depraved can we be?  The answer as we “survey the wondrous cross,” to use the words of hymn writer Isaac Watts, is almost too much to bear.  No wonder the same hymn writer notes that as we observe the cross, our “richest gain becomes but loss,” and we “pour contempt on all our pride.”  Why?  Because any pride I had in my own goodness is called into question when I realize someone just like me – too much like me for comfort – did THAT to the holy, perfect, loving Son of God who was sent to bring me into God’s family. 

The cross is a dark place.  It is a reminder of how far we can go down the path of sin and death.  It is so tempting to look at the cross from a distance instead of taking up the cross, honestly bearing the reality of the depth of sin in my own life.  It is easy to see the cross in hindsight and not as a present reality for all of us. 

But there is light even in the dark shadows of the cross. 

Lesson Two: How Far God Will Go

Is there a “bridge too far” for God?  Is there a limit to His love?  I often hear people who wish to remind us that even though God is loving, we are not to forget that He is also a “righteous judge” and is a “God of wrath.” 

I think this kind of thinking misses the point and also looks at the cross from a distance.  The cross does demonstrate our sin, but it does so in light of the great love of God.  In the act of sacrificing His own life, Jesus exposes sin.  He does not do so, then, in harsh and punitive judgement, but in submissive love. If God were simply about wrath, then our first response would be defensive.  But God’s response to sin is sacrificial love, which catches us off guard.  Look how far God will go to show you the way to Himself, the cross cries out.  See how much God loves us, the cross reminds.  “How deep the Father’s love for us; How vast beyond all measure,” another hymn writer reminds.  This, too, is seen in the cross of Jesus. 

Putting the Lessons Together

These two lessons – the depth of sin and the heights of God’s love – are always working in tandem in the lives of those who “take up the cross” of Jesus Christ and become His disciples (not just admirers).  In the shadow of the cross, I am constantly reminded that my journey is to be one of humility.  My sin is part of the story of how the perfect and holy Son of God ended up there.  It could just as well have been me driving the nails.  When I embrace sin, I am indeed capable of such things, and so are we all! 

At the same time, the cross reminds me that as I walk in humility, I need not fear that I will be asked to “love too much” or to go too far in loving and serving others.  Jesus Himself has already gone the distance.  He has already gone as far as it is possible to God, and He bids me to follow Him there!  Therefore, all of my actions, attitudes, and interactions with all of the voices around me are filtered through the cross.  Is this attitude or action bathed in the humility that recognizes that sin runs deep in me and in all of us?  Is this attitude or action placing unworthy limits on the love of God that can be expressed through me because of the cross and the empty tomb of Jesus?  That, and not less than that, is taking up the cross.  May God help us.

Reflecting on Selma, and What I Would Like to Think

Beyond Nostalgia and Idealism

It has been fifty years since Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., let the freedom march in Selma, Alabama, protesting the conditions of African-Americans.  The protest was about both racial and economic justice, and thousands of Americans of all races joined the historic march.  Four even lost their lives before, during, and after this important event.  The cause of the loss, according to Dr. King, was not just the bullets and attacks of state troopers, angry townspeople, or other officials.  Rather, according to Dr. King, it was the “silence of every white minister of the Gospel who has remained silent behind the safe security of his stained glass window.”  He later noted the bravery of at least one white minister, a Unitarian minister, who also became a martyr for the cause of civil rights during the time of the Selma march.  People like me who were not yet born during the march (I am in my mid-40s) tend to look back at these events with a sense of nostalgia and idealism.  The nostalgia aspect of our hindsight tends to overlook the hard work, the sacrifice, and the messiness of this brave display of solidarity regarding the plight of poor people and minorities in America. 

The idealism aspect of our hindsight often causes us to see these marches as solutions rather than part of a bigger picture.  By this I mean, we are tempted to say, “Well, thankfully they had that Selma march where thousands gathered and cleared up all of that racism once and for all.”  A further aspect of our idealism involves projecting ourselves back into the scene.  By this I mean we are tempted to say, “If I had been there, I would have been proud to stand with Dr. King and oppose the ignorant racism of that day.”  It is this bit of hindsight that makes me the most uncomfortable, simply because it is indeed what I would like to think.  I would like to think that I would be part of the solution, not the problem.  I would like to think that I, like others of my race (I am Caucasian) would have marched proudly and boldly with Dr. King and the other marchers if I were around 50 years ago.  I would like to think that I, unlike many Protestant Evangelical ministers of Dr. King’s day, would have had hard conversations with my church members, with community leaders, and with others in my sphere of influence to try and persuade them of the nobility of standing up for the value of all human beings, as those created in the image of God. 

Beyond Wishing and Thinking

I would like to think this would be true.  I would like to think that the men and women of my community and of my congregation, which is a predominately white community and congregation, would love Jesus enough not to let any other influences stop them from standing for what is right instead of what is popular or accepted in the culture.  And by this I do not mean the politically correct “liberal” culture.  Instead I mean the politically correct conservative culture.  I believe each “side” of the political spectrum has its own brand of political correctness, and when a spokesperson from either side transgresses these politically correct boundaries, there is often a high price to pay.  I would like to think that I would have been intentional about my association with those causes and groups that support the value of all people.  I would like to think I would be intentional about confronting those ideas and personalities that would degrade others for the sake of political expedience or popularity in certain circles.  I would like to think that. I am still thinking.

It just so happens that many of the same problems are around that were around 50 years ago.  Some of the faces and complexions have changed; some have stayed the same.  Some of the voices are more subtle and not as blatant as they were 50 years ago in Alabama.  I do believe that the issues of social justice, of valuing others as created in the image of God, of fair treatment, and of economic empowerment are key issues, dear to the heart of the God I serve. 

Based upon the history of the Civil Rights Movement, I belong to a group (American Evangelicals) who have leaders who have made key contributions to civil rights, but as a group have probably said the least about civil rights and economic empowerment of any key religious group in America.  Indeed, the group I am part of – white American Evangelicals – have often been on what some historians would call “the wrong side of history” in regard to civil rights. 

Therefore, I would like to think that, given my awareness of this, I would do something and say something that reminds those around me (especially in my own spheres of influence) that bears witness to the compassion, love, and justice of God.  I am still thinking.  God help me to start doing, and to do more and more as I empowered by the grace of God, whose universe (in the words of Dr. King) bends toward justice.  God help me.  God help us all.

  

Apprenticeship: The Model of Christian Life and Ministry

We Are Apprentices

I am currently reading a novel called Gutenberg’s Apprentice, by Alix Christie.  It is a historical novel set in the mid-1400s that follows the process by which Gutenberg (inventor of the printing press) trains a group of ragtag laborers and craftsmen to bring the vision of the accessible printed page into being.  Peter, the main character (the apprentice) is already a trained scribe, skilled in the craft of producing books by hand.  As a favor to his adopted father, Peter finds himself virtually trapped into taking up with the gruff and demanding Gutenberg.  Months pass, and Peter finds himself discouraged in the task of trying to fit his talent as a scribe into this new medium, which means that he is reduced to designing letters for the printing press, and then having to learn a new trade of producing medal rods and chiseling them into the letters that he has so skillfully created by hand.  He is resentful, weary, and longs for the old days of relative wealth away from Germany when he could sit for hours and use his art, the art that is disappearing with each bit of progress toward the printing press.  He is literally working himself out of a job!

Then Peter has a bit of a breakthrough.  A gruff metalworker takes him under his wing.  As he struggles to learn the new trade of forging iron and replacing the pen with the chisel, he recalls the hard lessons he learned as a young man learning the trade of a scribe.  This portion of the book notes this breakthrough:

The work of the apprentice is the taming of all impulse: in place of pride, humility; impatience mastered, then subdued.  It took Peter back to his first weeks at the scriptorium, where Anselm [his teacher] started by removing feathers, vellum, leather pouches, ornaments of every kind.  He stripped the pupils down to one thin reed, a lump of lampback, one plain sheet.  To learn the silencing of will, of the murky self: to strip their bodies and their minds to the essential.  Apprenticeship, he said, was patience, and a deep, abiding faith: again, again, and yet again, until the hand was firm, the soul scoured clean.  For only then would they be purely Adam’s flesh, a conduit, a channel.

That's About Right

The longer I reflect on and participate in Christian ministry, in fact the Christian life itself, I find the model of apprenticeship to be the only true model of discipleship.  Jesus did not simply say, “Learn of me,” or “believe me,” but “follow me.”  This is a call to walk in the steps of a master as this master apprentices us in the new Kingdom, the new way of living.

Though I have had the benefit of other educational models, my approach to ministry has been most impacted, even during my formal studies, by those who walked with me through the sometimes troubled waters of personal growth and ministry development.  Ministry is not simply the conveyance of God-centered information, but rather an incarnational walking together through the peaks and valleys of the life God has given.  

The knowledge gained and transmitted is important, but the side by side companionship in the Gospel of those whom God has placed to teach us and guide us and even learn from us is the heart of the matter.  Along the way, it is the presence of these fellow-travelers that teaches us the silencing of the will, the stripping away of all but the essentials, the patience needed for deep abiding faith, and the kind of scouring of the soul needed to become a true vessel: conduit of God’s love and grace.

How to Apprentice

For students preparing for life and ministry (not just those in seminary, by the way, since all preparation for the Christian is preparation for living out the Gospel in a particular context), being an apprentice of Christ means both seeking out those to assist us in proper application of what we are learning, and in preparing in such a way that we too may someday be faithful guides.  In other words, we learn to apply what we learn, while we learn with an eye toward sharing.

For those who have walked awhile with Christ and have received some formal training, the challenge becomes finding ways to continue to partner with those who can refine our gifts and experience, while also finding ways to come along someone else: someone who needs apprenticing.  The apprenticeship of the Gospel never ends.  Jesus walks with us in a deeply personal way, of course, but He also serves as facilitator in forging apprenticeships in this Kingdom of service and grace. 

Training and skills matter, but they will not have full impact for the Kingdom of God until the loving fires of Christ through the partnership and guidance of others. 

Peter in the novel is much like the Peter of the Gospels.  Called midstream to change specialties -- from trained fisherman to trained proclaimer of the Gospel -- The Apostle Peter, like the apprentice Peter, is required to re-apply the earliest lessons of Christ over and over again as times change and contexts change. 

Are we as apprentices of the Gospels always prepared to make such changes?  In this ever-changing culture, we may be required of the Master to do just that.

Singing Mary's Song in the Right Key

“My soul magnifies the Lord. . . .” ~ Luke 1:46

The song Mary sings after her visit with her sister Elizabeth regarding the coming birth of the Messiah is traditionally referred to as the Magnificat.  It has received its traditional Latin title from the first words of the song, “My soul magnifies [glorifies] the Lord.”  Throughout the history of the Church, this wonderful poem has been set to music countless times: perhaps most famously by J.S. Bach, who captures both the delight and deep reflection in this important precursor to the birth of Jesus.

What We Think We Know: Focusing Upon the First Part

Even Bach’s interpretation of this passage tends to fall into a common trap: it focuses too much on the first part.  The song of Mary begins with these words:

My soul magnifies the Lord; My spirit rejoices in God my savior;
For He has been mindful of the humble estate of His servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
For the Mighty One has done great things for me,
Holy is His name!

Of course, we should not overlook the exuberance of this teenage mother to be, called by God up from the ashes of despair and given the opportunity to be the mother of the Savior of the world.  However, at first glance, this song can be a simple rehashing of the individualistic “prosperity Gospel” put forth by much of popular Christian media today.  

At first reading, especially if one stops here as many do, the message is: God wants us to be prosperous and healthy, and if He can do it for me, He will do it for you, too!  But this approach takes away the prophetic edge of this important song. 

This is not just a song of individual rejoicing.  It is also a proclamation of prophetic warning to all those who gain success and power on the backs of the poor and marginalized.  Finding this part of the message requires us to read (and sing) further.

A Closer Reading: Who is Singing the Song?

Theologian Robert McAfee Brown, writing about Mary’s song, asks readers this question: Who is more qualified to interpret Mary’s song: a middle-aged white male American theologian or a barely educated South American teenage girl whose family is fighting the government to stay on their land?  

Brown noticed that when people in the position of the teenage girl from South America read the Magnificat, they become excited about a different part of the story than most of their North American counterparts.  For them, the last part of the song is the most significant:

51 He has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts. 52 He has brought down rulers from their thrones but has lifted up the humble. 53 He has filled the hungry with good things but has sent the rich away empty. 54 He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful 55 to Abraham and his descendants forever, even as he said to our fathers.

As Brown notes, Mary’s son, the son of one who would be perceived as a “nobody,” would be called “Son of the Most High”, according to this song.  Through this lowly born child, even great rulers will be “cast down from their thrones.”  Through him, the poor will be fed but the rich oppressors will be “sent away hungry.”  Brown rightly asks: Can we trade our view of the “comfortably demure Mary” of our tradition for the uncomfortably militant Mary of the tradition of those around the world who even today are suffering oppression? *

Why Singing in the Right Key is Important

As often as this song has been proclaimed and sung, especially around Christmastime, it is too often sung in the wrong key.  The “key” that Mary sings in here is not the bright major key of ease and of personal abundance, but rather a more ominous minor key that warns those who oppress that, just as in the days of Moses, God has heard their cries and is doing something about it.  The One who comes to right those wrongs, to bring peace instead of war, to create a Body (the Church) that will become the hands, feet, and voice of God’s peace to those who are in physical and spiritual bondage, is what makes this song more than a prophetic warning.  However, it is not a funeral dirge.  The whole song represents a dramatic turn in all of human history.  Often what is bad news to one group is good news to another.  The powerful and those who ignore or (even worse) oppress those who are seen as “nobodies” may hear an ominous song of warning.  But the poor, the sick, those in need, those overlooked by the powerful hear a beautiful symphony expressing God’s victory over sin, suffering, and death in the world.  When we all start singing in God’s key – the key expressed by Mary as “May it be to me as the Lord desires” – then it becomes the love song of the Kingdom of God.

·         * For a further discussion of this, see Robert McAfee Brown, Unexpected News: Reading the Bible with Third World Eyes (Philadelphia: WJK Press, 1984), chapter 5.  The entire chapters is dedicated to a detailed “re-reading” of the Magnificat.

What is Prooftexting?

Q and A from Holiness Today, Fall 2014

Question: What is “prooftexting”?

Answer:

On the surface, the idea of “prooftexting” sounds like a great thing for Bible believing Christians.  Prooftexting is what happens when a person picks a biblical text (usually a short verse or passage) to attempt to prove a theological or ethical point.  An example might be, “I do not cut my hair, because the Bible says here that a woman’s hair is her ‘glory,’ and so that proves that we should not cut our hair.”  

Right away, we can see the potential downside of prooftexting.  In fact, there are at least three difficulties with prooftexting, and all of these speak to our view of plenary inspiration in the Church of the Nazarene.   

The first potential problem with prooftexting is contextual.  While Scripture is to be our final authority in all matters of faith and practice, John Wesley reminded early Methodists that Scripture is only authoritative when properly interpreted and applied in its proper context.  When one separates a passage of Scripture from its larger context and simply lifts the words from the page in order to drive home a point, we can come dangerously close to the error found in a cartoon in which a boy is shown reading his Bible and telling his sister, “Quiet down!  I am trying to find a passage to justify my preconceived notions!” 

A second potential problem with prooftexting concerns the scope of inspiration.  In the Wesleyan tradition – indeed in most Christian traditions – we do not believe that God dictated Scripture word for word to its authors.  That means that while the message of Scripture has a unique inspiration (literally, a “God-breathed,” God-directed purpose), we believe that every passage is important precisely because of the big picture of the message: namely, that God wants a relationship with us grounded in His love and care.  Therefore, God does not “inspire” every word with equal weight to the point where we can simply pull words and passages and mold them to fit our situation or preferences.  For the Christian, the truest test of a passages meaning(s) has to do with whether our interpretation fits within the overall character of Jesus Christ (we are Christians, after all) and the overall emphasis regarding God’s plan of salvation for God’s creation.  If our interpretation does not fit into that rubric, then chances are, we are simply prooftexting and not really doing the hard work of interpretation.

Finally, prooftexting can create a problem regarding the proper use of Scripture.  In 2 Timothy, Paul writes that Scripture is “useful” to believers in regard to correction, teaching, and growth.  Historically, the Christian Church has been entrusted with giving voice to the way Scripture is and is not to be used, and that determination has been connected to correction, teaching, and growth in grace.  Issues and approaches to Scripture that detract from these – things the Bible calls foolish arguments – are not proper uses of Scripture.  A prooftexting approach makes it very tempting to wield the “Sword of the Spirit” in a manner that the Spirit never intended.  Instead of simply finding a text to justify our behavior, why not get to know true Word – Jesus Christ – whose life and Spirit, embodied by His Church, can help us do the hard work of sound interpretation, providing a guide for living instead of simply a tool for winning theological arguments.

Dr. Charles W. Christian is pastor of the Church of the Nazarene in Cameron, Missouri, and is an adjunct professor at several universities and seminaries.

Jesus, the Last: Part 4 of 4, Salvation

Jesus, the First

In John 1, we are reminded that Jesus is the “first”: “In the beginning was the Word (referring to Jesus, the Messiah); and the Word was with God, and the Word was God….”  In the same passage, Jesus is also called the “firstborn,” a positional reference to one who holds all things together and is primary overseer of all that has been created.  This theme is echoed throughout the New Testament: Jesus is positionally “first” in prominence and in oversight.  The Church has historically put it this way: fully God and fully human, with the fullness of both expressed mysteriously in His person. 

But Jesus is also the “last”: “I am the Alpha [first letter of the Greek alphabet] and the Omega [last letter of the Greek alphabet], who was, who is, and who is to come, the Almighty,” according to Revelation 1.  The idea of Jesus as the last Word, the final and definitive goal of God’s creation is another key theme of Christian theology.  Jesus is what all before has led up to, and Jesus is what everything is moving toward.  Hebrews 1 describes the birth of Jesus as ushering in the “last days” (1:1). First John 2:18 identifies Jesus with the “last hour.”  That means that “last things” (eschatology is the term for this) is not about some place or time in the distant future.  Rather, last things are all about Jesus: Jesus as definitive Word and example of the fullness of God’s love and grace; the goal of God’s work in the world and in us.

Jesus as Last Word in the Christian Life

Companionship with Jesus and fully embracing the ways of Jesus, then, is the goal of life.  Why?  Because this companionship with Jesus is indeed companionship with the loving God. 

That means that when we become Christians – followers of Jesus Christ and His ways – we become people whom God as forgiven and whom God wishes to instruct and to transform into one who, though maintaining unique elements of our own gifting and personality, reflects the loving ways of Jesus Christ, the embodiment of the loving ways of the God who created us.

The reason for God’s saving work through Jesus Christ has to do with things eternal.  But, the saving work of God is not about eternity as something in the distant future.  Instead, the saving work of God in Christ is about a relationship with God that begins now and never ends.  And in this never ending relationship, true transformation happens (called sanctification).  This transformation is not the end, though.  Rather, it is a means to an end.  The end/goal of all of this is the restoration and realization of the deep companionship that God has always desired but that has been stifled by our own walking away from the good and loving ways of an eternally loving God. 

Then What?

The culmination of all things for the early churches of Christianity was not the ominous prospect often portrayed in modern depictions of last things.  Eschatology was a hope-filled study for the ancient Christians.  This is because the prospect of the full realization what had already begun with the coming of Christ (what we celebrate as Advent and Christmas Seasons) continued on in personal and corporate experience of the believers of the peace, love, and joy that a faith-based relationship with God through Jesus Christ provides (expressed fully at Easter and Pentecost seasons we celebrate today).  This new “Jesus Way” of living (a new Kingdom, the Gospels call it) was allowing them to keep in focus the hope that would be fully realized when Christ returns to set all things right with all of creation for all time. 

On a personal level, believers would experience this in what the Church has called “glorification,” which is the full realization of the sanctified life (the life set apart to the service of Christ) that would allow the believer to embody in his or her own death the “empty tomb” experience of Jesus Christ, whom they had followed in life in such a way that death was no longer a fearful proposition. 

Jurgen Moltmann once said that Christians are “people of Advent.”  He meant that we are people who are always living with a sense of anticipation.  We live in such a way that seeks to recognize the need for God’s intervention in all areas of life (salvation), the need for God’s empowerment to live the life that echoes the ways of Jesus Christ by the empowering of the Holy Spirit (sanctification), and the need for God’s faithfulness to bring us to the ultimate participation with God unencumbered by sin and death beyond our own death (glorification).  Living with this kind of expectation is possible not because we eagerly await some final word from God, but instead because the final Word from God has been sent, embodied in Jesus Christ, the first and the last: “This is my Son with whom I am well-pleased; do as He says.”  The Word of the Lord.  Thanks be to God.