1 Pe 1:3-9
3 April 2005
2nd Sunday of Easter
“Loving Without Seeing”
Let me start with something I believe I’ve mentioned before. In February 1997, during the service in which Banu and I were ordained, our respective pastors each gave us a charge. Banu’s pastor, Rev. Edward Bicking Jones, told her this: “I charge you to fail!” That is, he charged her to take risks, even risks that would end in failure.
My pastor, Rev. David McMillan, likewise gave me a memorable charge. He told me to tell my story of being in a far country. Of being in a far country. He used that image from the parable of the lost son—the story of the prodigal son—in referring to my struggle with brain cancer and the treatments that followed. (I imagine he was also thinking of my transition from Pentecostal to Presbyterian!) But for him at least, I had been to a distant land, a place far from our ordinary lives.
He believed that people will benefit from hearing me speak of my own journey in that…shadow realm, that place in the underside of human experience. I imagine his own beliefs and experiences, as well as our conversations together, led him to that conclusion. Still, I’m not sure how well I’ve applied Rev. McMillan’s word of exhortation.
In recent months, you’ve seen evidence that my struggle is not over. There have been occasions of the mild seizure activity that my doctor has called “slow mentation”. (I call them “brain locks”!) They’re the times when something that’s in my head prevents my mental words from becoming verbal words. I pray I can avoid giving you a demonstration today of what I’m talking about!
I once told my pastor that, even though I wouldn’t suggest it, the various travails that the brain tumor had brought about were actually quite an adventure. He found that funny, in a bizarre sort of way. Of course, it was a lot harder for Banu, as it usually is for the loved one who does not have the affliction.
Certainly, something that happened was that I became more understanding of others with serious illnesses—physical, mental, and emotional. Understand, that’s not saying a whole lot, but it was a needed improvement! For several weeks after the surgery, I had a prescription for a steroid to prevent swelling of the brain. Side effects included a stimulated appetite (I gained about 40 pounds to my current weight over a two month period), and, for me, unusual mood swings (a female friend of ours said that I now have an idea what PMS is like).
So, there’s a little bit of my journey to a far country. No doubt, many of you have similar stories. The telling of these stories can be therapeutic. Of course some folks, perhaps lapsing into hypochondria, enjoy dwelling on aches and pains. But other people avoid the matter of ailments and disabilities altogether. It may be due to a lack of self-worth—or maybe they’ve been treated unjustly. Doors have been slammed in their faces. They’ve been unfairly told that, because of their condition, they need to get out of the way and make room for someone else.
We even see these competing ideas of acceptability in the Bible. Consider the story of Jacob’s encounter with the angel in Genesis 32. He’s returning to Canaan after spending several years in Haran…dreading the reunion with his brother Esau, whom he defrauded. During the night he spends alone near the Jabbok River, Jacob struggles with an angel—he wrestles with God. As a result, he’s given the name “Israel,” which has that meaning. Verses 25 and 31 tell us that Jacob’s hip is injured in the struggle, and consequently, he has a limp.
The priestly law in Leviticus 21 has some interesting comments about disability. In a section dealing with the offering of sacrifices, we’re told that no priest with a physical defect is permitted such an assignment. Included in a fairly long list of examples are the blind, the lame, and those with broken hands or feet (vv. 18-19). I suppose that due to his limp, the man whose very name is Israel, were he a priest, would also be prohibited from offering sacrifice to the Lord!
I’ve begun by going into some detail about questions of acceptability because I believe it is relevant to us. There’s nothing like an impediment, whether real or perceived, to have us question ourselves or each other about our ability to get things done.
Speaking for myself, I’ve found it rather humbling to undergo these little seizures while trying to converse with people. That’s coming from someone who used to pride himself on his ability to speak in a very fluid, articulate manner. The experience of feeling foolish is one of the little deaths that have come with my journey “in a far country,” as my pastor put it. Losing my hair during radiation treatment was another little death. Within a matter of days, I suddenly looked twenty years older. So, “bye bye” youthful rock star look!
Our epistle reading in 1 Peter speaks of suffering “various trials” (v. 6). That obviously includes things much more serious than the stuff that’s come my way. But as I’ve tried to suggest, these things have made me more aware of the struggles with acceptability that you all—that we all—face. Today is the second anniversary of my father’s death. I know a little something about loss.
Our author (I’ll call him “Peter,” even though some stuff in the letter seems to require a dating after Peter’s lifetime) says that his audience’s trials serve to prove the genuineness of their faith. He’s already said that they rejoice because God has provided “a new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ” (v. 3). That helps explain why this is a text for the Easter season.
The post-resurrection appearance of Jesus to Thomas is reflected in today’s passage. The Lord tells him, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” (Jn 20:29). Verse 8 of our text declares, speaking of Christ: “Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy.”
Believing without seeing. Loving without seeing. These scriptures are thought by many to have been intended to encourage the believers in the generations after the apostles. With eyewitness testimony about Jesus no longer available, these Christians might find the trials they face even harder to endure.
I think we can also see this in the context of mission. I’m talking about our mission in this world as people and our mission as the church. Here’s that verse again: “Although you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy.”
Sometimes Banu will ask me to perform a certain task, such as emptying the dishwasher or carrying a box upstairs or out to the car (a box, by the way, that I suspect must be filled with lead bricks!). Anyway, after making her request, she occasionally adds: “and I will love you forever!” Maybe I’m just confused, but it seems to me that repeating that pledge only means that the prior statements weren’t really true! Am I wrong? In any event, friends, this is not an example of “loving without seeing.”
Peter’s audience is going through trials. That certainly includes persecution by imperial officials. Near the end of the letter, he even refers to Rome as “Babylon” (5:13). But their “various trials” aren’t limited to political problems. They experience the problems that people everywhere do. They experience the problems that we do.
They face the uncertainty that we at Westminster undergo. They face the questions of acceptability—the questions of ability—that we do. Peter reminds them that their love of the Lord, whom they have not seen, is the source of their joy and faith and strength. Peter…and I…remind us of that.
As I suggested earlier, most, if not all of us, have stories of being “in a far country.” Things have happened to us. We may never want to go back to that place. Some of us may be in a far country right now. I hope I can give us permission to tell our own stories. That is the way of healing.
If we can’t trust each other…if we can’t love without seeing the results…then healing will elude us. Our passage ends on this note, with Peter saying, “you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls” (v. 9). That speaks of community. That speaks of the only way we at Westminster can go through our trials with a faith more precious than gold.