Tough-Love Encouragement From The Early Church

Real Christian life looks nothing like a Facebook or Instagram feed.

The moments between those glamorous selfies and heartwarming scenes are often filled with the exact opposite…tears and heartbreak. Of course, life doesn’t always disappoint, but it often does.

I think it has to do with our unfulfilled expectations. Especially what we believe God is supposed to do for us.

For this reason, I’ve been doing an expectation tune-up for the past several months.  I’ve been reading very slowly through Acts specifically looking at the prayers, practices, and problems of the first Christ followers. I’m also reading a great book on second century Christians, paying close attention to how they worshipped.[i] One observation I can boldly relay is this: the prayers and expectations (or at least what is recorded about them) of these first believers look very little like most of what we see in Facebook (contemporary) Christianity.

To be transparent…they look nothing like some of my own prayers.

I’ve not read one record of people gathering round asking God for the guts to dream big or for boldness to speak their own truth or for confirmation of their true calling. I never see anything remotely close to believers encouraging one another with self-empowerment messages…or quoting Jeremiah 29:11 out of context to either trivialize or over-spiritualize life circumstances.

They didn’t encourage one another that way.[ii]

If the voices of those faithful could travel to me (and to you) through time, I believe their encouragement would look far more like this:  

Christian life is not about your happiness.

I don’t know about you, but this is great news for me because I’m not happy all the time. I wake up with the glass empty nearly every morning and need time in the Word and in prayer just to make it to half-full. If happiness was an indicator of God’s love for me or of my value and place in His kingdom, I’d feel so hopeless right now.

Jesus didn’t live a sinless life, die on the Cross, and rise from the dead so we would be happy. He sacrificed His life to pay the penalty for our sin (one we could never pay), to be the propitiation for God’s wrath that we deserve (removing it), to reconcile us to the Father who is perfect in all His ways (our righteousness would always and only stink to Him), and to free and redeem us from slavery to sin.[iii]

Disappointing life circumstances can’t take one bit of that away from us.

But they can take away our happiness. And that’s why happiness can’t be an indicator of how Christianity is working for us…or be the fuel behind our faithfulness and obedience.

Christianity isn’t about happiness. It’s about holiness—Christ’s holiness—and the true, sustaining joy we receive from being transformed into His likeness.

Christian life is not about your dream.

Again…fantastic, because I don’t have a dream. This is such wonderful encouragement for those of us who faked our dream board assignment in high school. Yes, I’ve had fleeting thoughts of being a heart surgeon (too much chemistry), a lawyer (a life of boring reads), and a news anchor (too many pounds to lose) … but I’ve never had a consistent dream of what I wanted to be when I grew up. I don’t even really have a bucket list.

Now, I’m not saying that having a dream is a bad thing. I find stories of people who dreamed big and eventually got there fascinating and even inspiring. I even believe life dreams can be God-given. But that’s not what Christian life is all about.

Christian life is not about our dream, it’s about our death. And sometimes even the death of dreams.

Jesus says in Matthew 16:24 “…if anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.”

Contrary to what many believe, taking up our cross does not mean dealing with a difficult child or belligerent boss. To first century believers, the cross represented the most vile, humiliating and disgraceful mode of death, and when Jesus asked His disciples to pick up theirs…what He was asking for was complete surrender to Him and His plans and His ways. A complete emptying of self.

The invitation to die to self is an invitation to freedom. Dead people don’t have to build platforms or build impressive financial portfolios or even stand out in a crowd. What a relief!

Jesus is not all about you.

Wonderful, because if He was I’d probably be even more self-focused than I already am.  (Anyone else feel like the person in the mirror is the one you’d most like a weekend away from sometimes?)  

While scripture assures we are loved more than we can comprehend, that we will be well-cared for, and that we have immense value as adopted children and God-glorifiers (humans), it is incredibly narcissistic to think that Jesus is all about us. Truth is, Jesus is all about the Father. He came to obey, represent, and glorify…the Father. Read through John’s gospel and take note of all the times Jesus declares this purpose. He did nothing but what the Father told Him to do for the purposes of the Father’s will and glory.

Do we benefit from everything Jesus did? Of course. More than we can imagine. But His primary focus was not us…it was the Father. Remembering this helps ward off sneaky entitlements that rob our joy and instead keeps us in a posture of deep gratitude as recipients of the Father’s generous love.

[i] Christianity at the Crossroads: How the Second Century Shaped the Future of the Church by Michael J. Kruger

[ii] For a beautiful example of how they did encourage one another, read Acts 13:13-52.

[iii] Romans 5:19, 1 Peter 2:24, John 3:16, Romans 3:25-26

Let’s Get Real. Is the Good News Good Enough for Us?

I’ve repented and been forgiven, but I still feel a wave of shame when I remember how I treated my parents on my 7th birthday.

My parents were broke. Dad was a musician who played every gig he could in the evenings and went door-to-door asking for work during the day. Mom waited tables and did as many odd jobs as she could to keep food on the table. Still, money was so tight that weekends were full of prayer…prayer that the check mom wrote for groceries on Friday would be backed by real money on Monday when the bank paid attention to it.

Somehow, for my 7th birthday, my parents scraped together enough extra money to buy a beautiful, brand-new Schwinn bike—fully equipped with colorful banana seat and handle-bar streamers. They were so excited to give me that gift. The cost was worth it to them.

The day finally came for me to open the gift, and now that I’m a parent, it’s not hard to imagine the anticipation my parents must have felt awaiting the ecstatic tears of joy they knew would surely flow.

And flow they did. For a couple of minutes.

I was genuinely thrilled when I saw that bike. I had never owned a two-wheeler, and it was gorgeous. I didn’t know how to ride it which was a concern, but dad guaranteed he’d have me riding like a champ no problem. After that agreement was made and I thanked my parents, my eyes immediately began to search the room for the rest of my gifts. After all, who gets only one gift for her birthday?

But I didn’t see anything.  And then I asked my shamefully selfish question:

Is this all I get?

I can still see the look of pain in my parents’ eyes as their hearts were crushed. All those blisters on my dad’s hands from raking extra leaves…I didn’t see those. All the late-night closing shifts my mom had worked despite her migraine headaches and back pain…not a concern of mine.

The gift wasn’t enough.

Thankfully my parents did exactly what they should have done. They took that bike back to the store and left me with nothing. Ironically, only one week later I taught myself how to ride a neighbor’s two-wheeler and ached to have my beautiful bike back. Eventually, I did…after I raked enough leaves to pay for it myself.

It would have been so much better if I’d just been thankful for the sacrificial gift purchased just for me. But we all know the cliché…hind sight is 20/20.

Is this all I get, God?

Fast-forward 40 or so years and increase the stakes…a lot. The gift is not a bike, it’s the Cross of Christ. A sacrificial gift with a cost so high I can’t describe it.  Given to me...and you…freely.

The benefit is far greater than having a sporty mode of transportation. The benefit is that a broken and dirty 21 year-old me who had sabotaged every meaningful relationship in my life…who found myself clothed in head-to-toe shame crying alone in the dark for days wondering why I should keep living…was miraculously scooped up by Love indescribable, given a safe place in which to confess my many sins, repent, and be forgiven…and given a reason to live. A Person to live for…who wasn’t disgusted or ashamed to love me.

Jesus took off my cloak of shame and replaced it with His own sparkling white robe of righteousness. It was as if He said, Cover yourself with this.  You’re safe hidden under here…forever.

For me, it was a Damascus Road experience of sorts. My life was transformed big time. I lost all desire to work in a bar, to smoke, to drink, even to cuss (which had been my second language). All this happened before I ever set foot in a church. It was Jesus and me. It was me undone by the gift He died on the Cross in my place to offer: cleansing, forgiveness, purpose, and eternal life.  The penal, substitutionary atonement of Jesus had saved me.

I experienced the power of the Gospel—the Gospel Paul and the Apostles preached.

For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and Him crucified. 1 Corinthians 2:2

That was the Good News. Jesus was the hoped-for Messiah, come to save God’s people once and for all…come to reconcile God’s children to Himself as the final and sufficient payment for all sins.

The death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus was the Good News. Period.

And many were added to the church when this message was preached. And many went to their deaths defending that message.

Would I? Would you?

Is the Good News good enough for us?

Will it be good enough for us if:

• we never feel God again?

• loved ones we’ve anguished over in prayer never get healed this side of heaven?

• we discover that Bible teachers (several of them) we’ve respected and trusted for years are abusers?

• we discover doctrines we’ve held dear and thought everyone else believed (such as age of the earth or end times or women in ministry or supernatural gifts or you name it…) are highly contested issues amongst reputable, Jesus-loving scholars?   

• the doors (even ministry doors) we felt sure would open all stay tightly closed?

• daily life is mundane and confusing and hard?  

• Christians we thought truly cared about us wound and abandon us?

Will we remain faithful to Jesus even if the only New Testament promises we can count on are tribulation and persecution?

Is the Cross + persecution + eternal life enough?

Or will we be easy pickins for the deceiver?

Will we give up on Jesus because He’s not doing things the way we would if we were in charge? Or because we don’t like some of His words or ways?

You don’t have to search any farther than Facebook or Twitter to see attacks on everything Christians have held sacred from the reliability of the Bible to the legitimacy of the local church.  And who can miss all the reports of abusive pastors and leaders? They come regularly now. It can all be so disheartening. It can lead to massive doubt and disillusionment.

Will we doubt toward God or away from Him? Will we do everything in our power to find God true and faithful in our search for answers? Will we hold sound doctrine close, or will we throw our Bibles in the trash the moment a few intellectual and kind skeptics send contradictory claims our way? In which direction will we throw our full weight?

I honestly think our answer has a lot to do with how good the Good News is to us…with what the Cross means to us personally.

Transparently…sometimes the only thing keeping me from throwing in the towel is the death, burial, and resurrection of Jesus. It’s the one series of historical events that makes sense out of my crazy life and this messed up world. It’s what gives me hope and worth and meaning.

I won’t let go without a massive fight. The stakes are far too high. I pray daily that I will never let go. I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief.

I want nothing more than to be counted among the few who find the narrow way (Mathew 7:13). I know first-hand what the broad way offers. I’ll bet you do, too. Nothing but purposeless, empty life followed by meaningless death followed by nothing.

And even though our Heavenly Father does bless us with far more than we’ll ever know…I believe we must have the kind of faith that can survive a severe drought and weather all kinds of storms. Even the ones that seem endless.  

So…is the Good News good enough for me? Is it good enough for you? It’s a question we cannot avoid.

Let us pray for one another, and let our cry be…

Yes, Lord. It is more than enough. And please help us stay faithful to that answer no matter the cost.