Exploration & Contemplation

I heard of a man who went to a psychologist and said, “Yes, I’m depressed, but I don’t see that as a problem.” Climate change, politics, social media, murder, suicide, disease, child abuse. Depression was a normal response to the state of the world, he said. Other people feel okay because they somehow ignore the evils of the world, he believed.

The book Positive Illusions says he might be right. “Normal human thought and perception is marked not by accuracy but by positive self-enhancing illusions about the self, the world, and the future…The mildly depressed appear to have more accurate views of themselves, the world, and the future than normal people.” Some of the “positive illusions” people live with include the idea that they are above average, naturally lucky, and all their plans will succeed. They gamble. They launch things without thinking them through. They are unrealistically optimistic. I am not a fan of living an illusion. Is there not another way to be happy? Do we have to choose between illusion and depression?

The shepherds show us how. You know, the shepherds who heard the angel’s announcement, “I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people.” These shepherds were low-status laborers working the night shift. Their land was occupied and controlled by a foreign power, the Roman empire. Their local Jewish king, Herod, was a tyrant. (He killed one wife and two sons). What did these shepherds have to be happy about?

The angel explained the content of the good news: “Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11). The Savior-Messiah-Lord was born. Here. Now. To you. What did that mean to these shepherds? Ezekiel prophesied against the shepherds of Israel. They drank the milk, clothed themselves with the wool, and ate the fattest lambs. But they did not heal the sick, treat the injured, or seek the lost. The shepherds of Israel were the leaders – the princes and priests. They were like Herod, exploiting the poor and powerless for their own gain. Therefore God said, “I myself will search for my sheep and look after them…I will shepherd the flock with justice.” But just after this God says, “I will place over them one shepherd, my servant David.” (Read Ezekiel 34 for all of this). Would the coming Messiah be God or human?

When the shepherds heard the angel’s announcement, they realized the shepherd-king they were waiting for had been born. The king of mercy and justice had come. Good news of great joy for the poor and powerless! This great joy was not a happiness based on illusions, but true Christian joy based on realities outside oneself.

The birth of the king was not good news for Herod. Matthew tells us that he sent to murder all the baby boys in Bethlehem in an attempt to eliminate this threat to the throne. Mary said in her famous praise, “He has brought down rulers from their thrones, but lifted up the humble.” That is not good news of great joy for the powerful.

Those with religious power were not particularly happy about the Messiah. Where Herod tried and failed to kill him, they succeeded. Again quoting Mary, “His mercy extends to those who fear him.” Mercy is not a popular attitude for those who are convinced of their own righteousness. This was one reason many of the religious leaders opposed Jesus.

What about those with financial power? Here it was mixed. One man who was invited to give to the poor and follow Jesus went away sad because he was rich. Didn’t rich people follow Jesus? Yes, many were transformed by him. Matthew left his lucrative tax collecting business to follow Jesus. Wealthy women traveled with Jesus and supported his ministry. But in general the rich would be okay with a king as long as he left their business practices and bank accounts alone. Mary touched on this as well,  “He has filled the hungry, but has sent the rich away empty” (Luke 1:46-55).

Who is left to celebrate this good news of great joy? The shepherds. A young unmarried woman. An old man named Simeon. An old widow named Anna. The sick. The demon-possessed. The dying. The hungry. Those who hungered and thirsted for the kingdom of God. The poor, the powerless, the humble. The sinful. Millions around the globe.

Do you shout for joy when Messi scores a goal? When a war is won do you celebrate? When a new boss announces he is going to clean things up, are you glad. It depends which side you are on. Jesus the shepherd-king, the Savior-Messiah-Lord is for mercy, justice, generosity. He is for the kingdom of God. If this is what you care about, then you have great joy without living in illusions, without ignoring suffering. In fact, there is a connection between suffering and joy.

To enjoy the joy of the birth of the king, we must care about the kingdom, which means we must also care about the poor and powerless. We must also recognize that we ourselves are poor and powerless. In Revelation, Jesus spoke to the church in Laodicea: “You say, ‘I am rich. I have everything I want. I don’t need a thing!’ And you don’t realize that you are wretched and miserable and poor and blind and naked. So I advise you to buy gold from me—gold that has been purified by fire. Then you will be rich” (Revelation 3:17-18). Beneath the outer wealth and health was a wretched misery. If they recognized their spiritual poverty they could come to Jesus and receive true riches.

David the original shepherd-king often referred to himself as “poor and needy.” How could a wealthy and powerful king be poor and powerless? He knew how he stood before the God who gave it all to him. When we know our poverty, then the birth of the Savior is good news of great joy.

There is a deep pattern I have noticed in the Bible and in experience – a connection between suffering and glory, sorrow and joy, death and resurrection. God holds the power of life and death. But it is death first, and then life, not the other way around. Psalm 104:29-30 says about the animals of the earth, “When you take away their breath, they die and return to the dust. When you send your Spirit, they are created.” And God says in Deuteronomy 32:39, “I put to death and I bring to life, I have wounded and I will heal.”

As death leads to resurrection, so sorrow leads to joy. “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning” (Psalm 30:5). When an injury is finally healed, we appreciate our health greater than before. So does sadness heighten the joy that follows. But the connection between suffering and joy goes even deeper.

The Apostle Paul wrote in Romans 5:3-4, “We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance;  perseverance, character; and character, hope.” There is a present joy in sufferings, which is connected to the eternal future joy that is ours in Christ. Joy in the midst of suffering is like receiving a package from a foreign land, a land that will eventually be your home. Or joy is like an aqueduct that delivers the water of life from a far-off location. Joy is your eternal inheritance. Suffering increases your capacity for joy.

The birth of Christ the king is therefore good news with the capacity to bring joy without ignoring the suffering of the world.

It’s an attractive idea, that we can live with joy even in suffering, but is it real? Most people who read this will know that our son Peter died of cancer in 2017. He would be 18 years old today. His death was more devastating than I can describe. And yet, I can say that there was always a trickle of joy from the future glory that Peter now enjoys, and that eventually I will too.

Sunday’s sermon was easy. I had help from four experts (surgeon, software developer, baker, and chemist) who shared about what in their field fills them with a sense of wonder. Why wonder? Because before, at, and after the birth of Jesus the Gospel of Luke reports that people were amazed, they marveled. Mary was troubled, she wondered, she treasured things up and pondered them in her heart. A sense of wonder pervades the birth of Jesus, so we celebrate Christmas with a sense of wonder.

We started with a broad sense of wonder at the world God has made. The maxillofacial surgeon shared how she is able to take a piece of a person’s thigh and create a new tongue out of it, or craft a new jawbone from a piece of lower leg bone. After connecting some blood vessels under the microscope, a cancer patient has an imperfect, but working mouth. I think everyone would agree this is incredible, though perhaps also kind of revolting.

Our software developer sent me a list of 6 points and 19 subpoints of things in the world of IT that fascinate him. He condensed that down to two things when he shared with the church: the programming language that humans understand exists in binary units (bits) on the computer. Everything that a computer can do goes back to ones and zeroes. And artificial intelligence, which everyone is talking about now. He is especially amazed how much a computer can learn if fed a lot of data.

The baker said that he had lost his sense of wonder about baking, but when one of his sons asked if he could bake cornbread here like they used to have in the US, he was thrown right back into this thing he loves. He started comparing the grit of European vs American cornmeal and hunting for ingredients.

One of several chemists in the church said that they see the world as if it is a box of Legos. The blocks are all the same, but the number of things you can make with them is infinite. Diamond rings, the air we breathe, the gas formed in a supernova, the leaves on a tree, the oil we use to make our fries – all are basically the same thing, carbon. Without the insulating quality of carbon dioxide, a molecule with a single carbon atom, the earth would be -20 degrees Celsius. Two carbon atoms can make alcohol. Three (plus some hydrogen) makes propane. Five for wood. Six for glucose. Lots of glucose makes starch, which is what our baker uses for a loaf of bread. Eighteen carbos atoms make up animal fat, like butter. I may be weird, but I often think about the atoms and molecules that make up all matter.

Instead of taking it for granted, I am filled with a sense of wonder at what exists. What is an atom even? School should never be boring. There is wonder everywhere.

One effect of wonder is to make us feel small. When I asked my backpacking buddy why he loves the mountains so much, he said, “I like to feel small.” The other side of us being small is God being big. Mary the mother of Jesus said, “My soul magnifies the Lord.” She made God big. Why? Because “he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant.” The big God remembered little Mary. This is, in fact, a good feeling. We recognize that we are very small, that our lives are short, but that God is very large, and never-ending.

I mentioned the spectrum of reactions to the birth of Jesus, all of them containing a sense of wonder and amazement. Why? What was God doing?

Obviously something spiritual was happening. Angels delivered messages, the Spirit came upon people. But also something physical was happening. A woman was having a baby. The creator became a carbon-based life form like the rest of us. The Gospel of John sums this up by saying, “The Word became flesh.” Likewise, something eternal was at work, but also something historical. Luke tells us that all this took place when Herod was king of Judea. Further, the highest one was becoming low. Philippians 2 says that Jesus, though he was equal with God, emptied himself, humbled himself, became human, became a slave, and died on a cross.

This is Christmas. The spiritual enters the physical, the eternal enters time, the highest becomes the lowest. An analogy is to think about the writer and director of a movie who also takes a role within the film. They do not cease to exist outside the film, but they do also exist within the film.

And why did God choose to enter the world he created? Mary says that God was simply keeping his promises. “He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful to Abraham and his descendants forever, just as he promised our ancestors” (Luke 1:54-55). Paul, in his letter to the Colossians, says, “God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.” (Colossians 1:19-20).

I asked my church to do something this season that would awaken their sense of wonder at the world. Go for a walk. Go to a museum. Read a good book. Watch an interesting movie. Or just sit and think.

Of course the core thing to think about is the birth of Jesus. But thinking about the world and thinking about Jesus go together. According to Colossians, “In him all things were created,” and “In Christ are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Colossians 1:16, 2:3). So scientists, historians, all who study the world should have a sense of wonder not only at what exists, but at the one through whom it exists – Christ, who became human. In the words of Psalm 111:2, “Great are the works of the LORD; they are pondered by all who delight in them.” The Lord’s great works are clear in the world and in the incarnation.

Last summer we met a couple that fell in love with their first foster child over 20 years ago. After four years, they were told that he was going back to his biological parents. Their hearts were so broken they said, “Never again. We can never do this again.” Real love always includes the possibility of heartbreak. C.S. Lewis wrote that the only alternative to the possibility of heartbreak is to make your heart unbreakable. “Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket – safe, dark, motionless, airless – it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable” (The Four Loves).

Grief is the cost of love when the relationship comes to an end. There is also a cost while the relationship is alive. Real love is always inconvenient, uncomfortable, and costly. Those foster parents, thankfully, did decide they could do it again a few years later. They had at least five foster children running around their house and yard. You can be sure that their decision to love children in need was inconvenient to their own agenda. Free time? Travel? Watching TV? Going out with friends? Forget it.

Wait, isn’t love about warm feelings between friends, or falling in love with your soulmate? Those are powerful things, but they are not real love. People often enter a marriage with public vows of faithfulness to death, but what they really meant was “I’ll stay as long as it’s convenient, comfortable, and doesn’t cost me too much.” People often think of love as the thing that will fulfill them. When the feelings aren’t there, they walk out. Romance and then bitter break-ups. That is not real love. What is real love?

1 John defines love for us: “We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us” (1 John 3:16). We all recognize and respect the heroic sacrifices that people make, like a soldier dying for a soldier, or a husband for a wife. But the sacrifice that Jesus makes is not an equal for an equal. This is a king dying for a peasant. The difference is greater, actually. This is God dying for humans. And not for good humans. “God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us” (Romans 5:8). John says that since Jesus has shown us what true love is, “we also ought to give up our lives for our brothers and sisters” (1 John 3:16). Real love is giving up your life for others. Therefore real love is by definition uncomfortable, inconvenient, and costly. Real love is not about what fulfills me. But in the end, it is the most truly fulfilling thing in the world. In fact it is the only truly fulfilling thing in the world.

In 2018 French police officer Arnaud Beltrame offered to take the place of a hostage held by a terrorist in a grocery store. When Beltrame was killed, everyone recognized his heroism. His superiors said he went “beyond duty,” but he did not go beyond the love of his true superior. Beltrame was a Christian.

Another famous example of a person who made the ultimate sacrifice of love is the Belgian priest Father Damien. I first learned of him as Damien the Leper, a name he earned by volunteering to serve those who lived at the leper colony on the Hawaiian island of Molekai. He knew when he moved there that he would contract the disease himself. He was willing to pay the price of love.

John says we should give our lives for one another, and there are people who literally do this. But the example John gives involves nothing more than getting out your wallet. “If someone has enough money to live well and sees a brother or sister in need but shows no compassion—how can God’s love be in that person?” (1 John 3:17). Love is shown across the spectrum – from giving a few dollars to giving your life. Either way, it’s always inconvenient, uncomfortable, and costly. Love can cost you $100, a sleepless night, years of worry, or love can cost you your life.

If that’s what love is, why do it? Why not just choose comfort and convenience? Secular people sometimes say it just creates a better life overall. That is true, but selfish people are not motivated to change their attitude by considering what will be better for other people. A better reason for practicing real love is recognizing that this kind of love is in God’s character. “God is love,” 1 John tells us. When we love, we are imitating God. And becoming like Christ, the Son of God, is our destiny. John just said that we are children of God now, but in the future “what we will be has not yet been made known.” He continues, “But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.” This confidence about our future destiny motivates change and growth in us in the present: “All who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure.” (1 John 3:2-3). The earlier quote from C.S. Lewis goes on to say that the only alternative to love and its consequences is damnation – it is to become cold, hard, angry, alone. We are on our way to Christ-likeness or the opposite.

The selfish person treats others as valuable for their own personal fulfillment. But in doing so they miss the true fulfillment, the fulfillment of giving oneself for others in love. Who was more fulfilled, Arnaud Beltrame or the terrorist? Cain the murderer or Abel the man who was truly good? When we give up our lives for others in love, we can and should expect a reward. Jesus said, “Everyone who has left houses or brothers or sisters or father or mother or wife or children or fields for my sake will receive a hundred times as much and will inherit eternal life” (Matthew 19:29). The book of Hebrews says that Jesus did not enjoy his suffering in itself, but endured it for the sake of what came after. “For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God” (Hebrews 12:2). So we should love because it is in God’s character, it is our destiny, and there will be a reward (the true reward is heaven, which is a world of love, with Christ at the center).

Another question: why is it so hard to love? If self-giving love is in the nature of God, if it is the ultimate destiny for those who follow Christ, then why do we fail so bad? Loving another person as one’s self is difficult even in marriage, where the fire of romance burns. My wife Rebecca and I dated and broke up twice before we finally got married. We figured we had worked out most of the difficult issues with the break-ups. This was mostly true. But even though we were deeply in love, we discovered that loving one another required effort. One of the first things that revealed our differences was our first grocery shopping trip. I wanted the cheap $1 loaf of bread. Rebecca insisted that the $3 loaf was way better. Spending that much on a loaf of bread made me feel like I was I was dying. Getting the cheap, squishy bread made her feel like she was dying. When we got to the salsa, she wanted the $1 jar and I wanted the $3 container of fresh, refrigerated salsa. Again, we both felt like we were dying. In a way, we were. The center of our lives was no longer ourselves. To make the marriage the center meant that a part of each one of us had to die. Our preferences regarding food, money, time, communication, vacation, sex – all can become sources of conflict requiring giving up ourselves for the sake of the other. Having children requires self-death even more, as young children force us to re-center our lives once again. Since we are generally self-centered, becoming self-giving is like dying.

Our selfishness makes love difficult. It may sound a little surprising, but the selflessness of others can also make love difficult. Drew Dyck shares about his older brother Dan in the book Your Future Self Will Thank You. Drew was often annoyed at his brother Dan, he writes, because Dan was perfect. He prayed every night. He memorized passages of Scripture. At the age of eight, Dan decided to eat no sugar. He didn’t eat a dessert for five years. As teenagers Drew worked a job and spent all his money. Dan worked a job and saved all his. Drew once became so annoyed with Dan’s perfection that he twisted his hand into a claw and scratched four bright lines across his brother’s chest. Surely the perfect brother would snap now. Instead, Dan closed his eyes tight, drew in a sharp breath, and said, “I forgive you.”

I mention this story because just before the example of Jesus’ love, John presents Cain as the example of hate. Why did Cain hate and murder? “Because Cain had been doing what was evil, and his brother had been doing what was righteous” (1 John 3:12). Don’t we feel this too? When someone is truly good and pure, we can hate them because they make our failures so clear and inexcusable. What if Abel saw the knife in Cain’s hand? My guess is that he probably would have willingly given his life for his brother. That is what Jesus did.

Real love is giving up our lives for others, starting small but including paying the ultimate cost. We should love because it is our ultimate destiny to be like Christ, who is the model of love. It is difficult to love because we are naturally selfish. But we can grow in love. How?

First, we can know and experience God’s love for us. He gave his life for us. I was the hostage. He is the one who volunteered to take my place. I was the one who hated. He is the one who loved. I am the one who attacked. He is the one who was killed. Because he was good and I was evil. The Bible typically gives us both overwhelming challenge and overwhelming encouragement. The call to give up our lives is a challenge. The knowledge that Jesus gave up his life out of love for us is encouragement.

Next time we feel like loving someone is inconvenient or uncomfortable, we can ask, “Am I bleeding on a cross? Am I hanging naked while people insult me? Am I carrying the weight of the world’s sins in my soul?” Knowing his love corrects our sense of entitlement. We do not deserve a happy, comfortable, convenient life. In giving up our lives for others we are not fulfilling a rule or earning God’s favor. We are imitating our Lord, who loved us so greatly.

A second way of growing in love for others is by practicing love for others. John writes, “Dear children, let’s not merely say that we love each other; let us show the truth by our actions” (1 John 3:18). Love is not words. Love is not feelings. Love is actions. Love is therefore something we can do even when we don’t feel it. A woman once told me that she no longer loved her husband. I counseled her to forgive, to communicate, to show thoughtfulness. “Are you saying I should pretend?” she asked. I was saying that she should act in love despite what she felt. After all, she had promised to love him when they got married. Now was the time to live that out. Acting in love often brings the feelings that are missing anyways.

We ought to give up our lives for one another. Not many of us will be called to literally die for another. All of us are called to love in smaller inconvenient, uncomfortable, costly ways. “If someone has enough money to live well and sees a brother or sister in need but shows no compassion—how can God’s love be in that person?” (1 John 3:17). Open your heart and give compassion. Open your wallet and give money. Open your cupboard and give food. Open your closet and give clothes. Open your agenda and give time.

“We know what real love is because Jesus gave up his life for us.”

Why am I writing now, after a two year break? Three reasons. One is that I stopped writing about the time I lost my facebook account. (I was hacked, they changed my age, I was kicked off.) I think that most people who read my posts found them through facebook, so I felt less drive to write for a much smaller audience. I finally got back on facebook a couple months ago. I didn’t really miss fb itself, but I did miss the connections it gave me with a lot of people I couldn’t stay in touch with in other ways. Second is that several people told me that Sunday’s sermon was helpful to them. So I thought I would create a written version in case it could be helpful for others (You can also find the video online with a little hunting). And third, I have been working for a long time on a book about our experience with Peter. I finally have drafts for each of the chapters I intended to write. There is still a lot of work, but I thought it was important to start writing and publishing at least on the blog for now.

I have never studied for sermons the way I have had to study for my sermons on Revelation the past few months. The author John was obviously a master of the Hebrew Bible. He packed his communication to the church with hundreds of references to the Old Testament. Then there is the whirlwind of images: scrolls, seals, trumpets, horns, eyes, dragon, beast, woman, and on and on. And numbers: seven, twelve, 12,000, 144,000.

One particular number has attracted a lot of attention. Near the very end of the cycle of visions, in chapter 20, the number 1000 appears. The dragon/that ancient serpent/the devil/Satan (it really uses all these names) is bound and locked in the Abyss for 1000 years. During that time “the souls of those who had been beheaded because of their testimony about Jesus…came to life and reigned with Christ a thousand years.” I am preaching through Revelation, but skipping some sections so we can end the book by the end of the year. I told my church I would write about the 1000 years instead of preaching on it.

After this thousand year reign, Satan is released from prison for a short time. What does he do then? What the devil always does, he deceives people and opposes God. He gathers an army as numerous as the sand on the seashore and marches on the camp of God’s people. But, as in every picture of the last battle, there is no battle. Fire falls from heaven and the devil is thrown into the lake of fire.

A question every reader asks: when does this 1000 year reign take place?

• Does it begin when Christ returns? That position is called “pre-millennial” because Christ returns before the 1000 years.
• Does it begin after Christ returns? That position is called “post-millennial” because Christ returns after.

A question some people ask after studying these positions: does it really matter? Well, the position people take on the millennium tends to go along with their view of the world.Post-millennialists tend to believe in Progress. The world will get better and better until the kingdom of God is established on earth. Then, finally, after 1000 glorious years, Christ will return.

Pre-millennialists tend to be more pessimistic. They see the world getting worse. Things will only turn around when Christ returns to set up his millennial kingdom.

Post-millennialists tend to be more activist, working to reform society. They were working towards the kingdom, after all. Pre-millennialists focus more on evangelism and teaching. The world can only be saved by Christ, not us. There aren’t many post-millennialists left; optimistic faith in progress was squeezed out by some world wars and other horrors. Some secular people still seem to have this optimistic faith in Progress, but not many go with the Christian version anymore.

Are you wondering if these are the only two options? Do you wonder if the 1000 years refers to an exact time period? Welcome to the third position, “a-millennialism.” Amillennialists don’t think there is a literal 1000-year time period in which the dragon gnaws his chains in prison while the beheaded saints reign with Christ. This requires a less literal, more symbolic of the passage. This makes sense, as so much of the book is obviously communicated through signs, symbols, and images.

I have come to appreciate the use of signs and symbols in Revelation. Communicating in plain speech has its benefits. Communicating in is signs and symbols, I am finding, gives people an easy way to refer to great realities. After studying the prostitute riding on the beast, a woman from Venezuela said, “That’s exactly what happened in Venezuela. Everyone slept with the prostitute. Everyone wanted a piece of that cake.” My son learned there are 200 million surveillance cameras in China and a system of “social credit.” “It’s terrible,” he said. “That is the beast,” we all agreed.

The author John uses numbers in symbolic ways too. The lamb that was slain has seven eyes and seven horns. John explains that the eyes represent the Spirit. But why seven? Because seven signified fullness, completeness, or perfection. John says the time of trouble of God’s people will last 1260 days, 42 months, or three and a half years. These are all the same, and are based on the prophet Daniel’s reference to “time, times, and half a time.” Three and a half, you might notice, is half of seven.

So what about 1000 years? If it’s not an exact time period, what does it mean? A good, long time. Does Christ return before or after that 1000 years? Amillennialists say neither. They (or should I say we, because I consider myself an amillennialist) interpret this difficult passage differently. The reign of Christ and the saints who have died began at Christ’s resurrection. That means Satan is currently bound, though not kept from influencing the world completely. This view requires seeing the book of Revelation not as one chronological sequence, but as a progressive spiral. The book takes us up to the very end several times, then loops back to cover the same ground from a different angle. Each progression takes the spiral a little further, giving us greater glimpses of the new creation each time. The heavenly reign of Christ and the saints has now lasted more than 1000 years, which is no problem, as we believe it represents an indefinite period of time.

What are the benefits of this interpretation? It fits well with the rest of the Bible, it gives confidence about those who have died, and it gives confidence to those of us who are still alive in this suffering world. Those who have died in Christ are currently with Christ and therefore reigning with Christ. They are alive. This is what I believe about my son Peter, my Aunt Margie, and dear sister Greetje from our church in Antwerp. They take part in the “first resurrection.” But these saints are still waiting, because God’s plan for the earth is not yet finished. They have died and gone to heaven, but heaven is not their final home. When Christ returns, there will be a resurrection, judgment, and a new heaven and a new earth. Rather than everyone going to heaven, heaven will come to earth and the two will be united. There will be no more separation between heaven and earth, but the dwelling of God will finally, once and for all, be with his people. This is what we see in Revelation 21. Rather than expecting a 1000-year period in the future, and then the end, since we are in the 1000 years now, Christ could bring the new creation at any moment.

There are difficulties with this interpretation, just as there are difficulties with the others. I am willing to die for Christ, but I am not willing to die for the amillennial point of view. It doesn’t matter how much I study, I will never have a perfect understanding of John’s complex layering of references and symbols. What God showed him was, it seems, too wonderful to put into words. And perhaps beyond our imagination or understanding.

In any case, we can conclude with the longing of the book of Revelation: “Come, Lord Jesus!”

Americans are passionate, especially about politics, especially right now. It’s in our gloating or combative social media posts, it’s in left-wing late night talk shows, it’s in right-wing talk radio, it’s in supposedly centrist news outlets, it’s on the streets in protests against racism, it’s at rallies, it’s in a mob storming the capitol building. There is passion everywhere. Some people are saying, “Can’t we all just calm down?” I am not one of them. I think we need more passion. Let me explain.

One thing that comes through clearly from the few short letters the Apostle Paul left behind is that he was a man of passion. “Zeal” is the word that he uses. He reminded the Galatians about his “previous way of life in Judaism, how intensely I persecuted the church of God and tried to destroy it. I was…extremely zealous for the traditions of my fathers” (Galatians 1:13-14). Likewise to the Philippians he wrote, “As for zeal, persecuting the church” (Philippians 3:6). Before he recognized Jesus as the Jewish Messiah, his passion was expressed in persecution.

Then, while on the way to lock up more Christians, Paul met Christ on the road Damascus. Was his zeal diminished? Was his white-hot passion replaced by a cooler attitude? Not at all. He immediately began preaching Christ, the very one he had been persecuting. And he preached with tireless energy. Prison, beatings, stoning, and violent mobs couldn’t cool his zeal. His previous passion was not wrong, it was misplaced. It had the wrong object and took the wrong form. Writing later about his fellow Jews, Paul says, “I can testify about them that they are zealous for God, but their zeal is not based on knowledge” (Romans 10:2). Paul could have been describing himself; he was zealous for the wrong thing. A couple chapters later, Paul encourages zeal, “Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord” (Romans 12:11). What does zeal, fervor, and passion for the Lord Jesus look like? Do you see it in a destructive mob? Do you see it in angry accusations? Does it inspire insurrection? It is worth reading the passage in which the encouragement to keep up our zeal and fervor is found, Romans 12:9-19:

Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. 10 Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves. 11 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. 12 Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. 13 Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.14 Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. 15 Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. 16 Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.17 Do not repay anyone evil for evil. Be careful to do what is right in the eyes of everyone. 18 If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.

Humility, patience, prayer, peacefulness, willingness to suffer, and above all, love. This is what zealous passion for Christ looks like!

When Jesus was arrested, he said “Am I leading a rebellion, that you have come out with swords and clubs to capture me?” (Matthew 26:55). Jesus did not come to inflict violence, he came to suffer violence. When we talk about Christ’s suffering and death, we sometimes use the Latin word for suffering, passion. Christ’s passion is his suffering. We have taken the word into English with two meanings, suffering and zeal. The passion of Jesus is seen in sacrifice. Driven by love, he died for the sins of the world.

Our passion as Christians has been misplaced. Our passion can lead us to further division, anger, and accusations. Or our passion can sink into cynicism or apathy. Or our misplaced passion can be refocused on the only worthy object, Christ himself. Passion for Christ means we will live out the humility, patience, and love commanded in Romans 12. Or in other words, passion for Christ looks like Christ.

I have Republican friends who are now distancing themselves from the storming of the capitol, saying that small group of rioters does not represent the 75 million others who voted for him. That is a fair point. They don’t want Trump supporters or the Republican party to be tainted by people like the shirtless guy in buffalo horns and face paint, who looked like he belonged at a football game, not an insurrection.

I see a number of American Christians who also feel the need to distance themselves from the riot. Because many in the mob used the name of Jesus. They prayed. They carried crosses. They carried banners with the names of Jesus and Trump. The prominent conservative Southern Baptist Al Mohler is quoted in an article in the Atlantic, saying he is “tremendously embarrassed” by Trump’s behavior. Christians don’t want that mob to represent Christianity.

How does it all look from the outside? In a word: crazy. I saw one comment online that the mob at the Capitol looked like a group of people LARPing or cosplaying, not rising up in rebellion. This would be amusing if it were not for the fact that five people died. And for the fact that the crowd chanted “Hang Mike Pence.” And for the fact that, whether or not he wanted them to storm the building, the president told his supporters to march on the Capitol. Now we hear reports that the FBI is preparing for armed protests at all 50 state capitols. The world is wondering what is going on in America’s post-election period.

I shared some thoughts from a Dutch friend a couple days ago. He reflects the feelings of many here. He grew up looking to America as Europe’s best friend, like a big brother worthy of admiration. “Going to the US meant you made it,” he shared. He remembers a grown man showing off a treasured dollar bill after a trip to the US. People and nations aspired to be like America, to have a free democracy like America. But now, he says, “There is a big group in that country that apparently doesn’t trust democracy anymore unless their own candidate wins.”

I know it looks and feels different from within. I have heard from people about the reasons they supported Trump and continue to support him. They don’t like the Democratic party’s support of abortion. They don’t trust the left, who they see as destructive to basic freedoms. They don’t trust the media, which reports things with a bias. Many people fear that the future of America hangs in the balance and it’s time to act. Some feel that they have been ignored by the professional politicians.

That fear and the zeal for Trump is extremely difficult for people on the outside to understand. And as my friend said, it is really difficult for European Christians to understand the zealous support of many American Christians for Trump. The church I serve has people from around the world. Like my friend, many admire the US and have a desire to travel or live there. I don’t speak to them all about US politics, but I’m pretty sure they don’t understand either. People often ask for prayer for the political situation in their home countries; now some of them are bringing up the US.

Secular people in the US and in Europe may point to this as confirmation of their position – what the world needs is less faith, less religion, less God. I would say that precisely what the world needs is more worship, on the model of the prophet Isaiah. The fact that a group of people attaches the name of God to some foolish action does not speak for all Christianity. In fact, one of the ten commandments is against using God’s name in vain. The prophets expanded that command and applied it specifically to God’s people.

For example, God spoke through the prophet Isaiah, “Your New Moon feasts and your appointed festivals I hate with all my being…When you spread out your hands in prayer, I hide my eyes from you…Your hands are full of blood!” (Isaiah 1:14-15). The use of God’s name does not vindicate those who use it or their cause. In fact, the use of God’s name in prayer and worship is worthless if one’s life is not brought into God’s will, which Isaiah defined in detail.

Isaiah wrote, “Take your evil deeds out of my sight; stop doing wrong. Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow” (Isaiah 1:16-17). Isaiah spoke against idolatry, greed, pride, violence, oppression, overuse of alcohol, obsession with fashion, victimization of the powerless, and more. He doesn’t mention abortion, but his obvious concern for the vulnerable leads me to think he would oppose it. So how would Isaiah vote? To what extent can his vision of God’s will come about through politics? The political influence of Christians in Europe is tiny; can Christians here still be the salt of the earth and the light of the world?

Where did all of Isaiah’s ideas about idolatry, justice and everything else come from? His encounter with God in worship. When he recounts his vision of God in chapter six, he says he thought he would die. God’s holy presence is high voltage; a mere human like Isaiah can’t handle it. By God’s mercy he was made clean, and was sent with a message that still applies, especially to people who would use God’s name. And for secular people who long for a just world, this is where it comes from.

On top of the tumultuous Trump presidency, on top of the pandemic, protests raged across the United States through the summer of 2020. COVID was keeping its finger on the pause button of economic and social life, but protests and demonstrations exploded, as if the energy suppressed by the pandemic demanded to be released some other way. To my surprise, I felt homesick.

Like the rest of the world, I was sickened by the video of George Floyd’s death. I did a little research and found some guys connected to a church and inner-city ministry I know of saying that Floyd had been involved and supportive of outreach efforts before he had moved to Minneapolis. He mentored younger men. In Minneapolis, he allegedly used a counterfeit $20 bill at a store and drugs were found in his system. I grieved for him, thinking of all the others I knew who were like him – believing in God, wanting to do good, but so easily sucked back into destructive patterns. My pastor’s heart was hurting. Maybe I felt a little homesick for the people I knew in central California. (Man, I have some stories).

I was also a little homesick because the initial response seemed to me one of the typically positive features of America – the attitude of “let’s make a difference. Let’s make a better world together.” Something like the attitude after 9/11, though as I mentioned a couple days ago, I wasn’t present for that either. I was homesick, but most Americans simply felt sick – another black man was killed by the police. And some protests quickly spilled into destruction, looting, and a weird “autonomous zone” in my home city of Seattle.

While thousands of protestors marched through America’s cities, others denied that racism is a problem. The existence of racist attitudes seems obvious. Everyone knows people who disparage other races and nationalities. But is there systemic racism? Many people, including many Christians, dismiss this idea. I found the thoughts of lawyer, veteran, and Christian conservative David French helpful on this subject. See https://frenchpress.thedispatch.com/…/american-racism… and https://frenchpress.thedispatch.com/…/on-the-use-and…. The US was founded with racist slavery in its DNA. I think it’s obviously not gone yet.

What perspective has living in Europe given me? Besides the feeling of homesickness, I have observed and experienced a different way of life. America is more entrepreneurial, more mobile, more ambitious. Belgium is more stable, rooted, with less desire to go big (as long as they get their vacations). There’s not point in asking which is better. They are different. Racist attitudes exist in Belgium as well. One (white) man tells how a member of his sports club announced to the group that “Blacks are monkeys.” When my friend protested, the man said, “Come on, just look at Lukaku. He’s an ape.” My friend was so disgusted he left the group for good. I have heard a number of Africans complain about unfair and unequal treatment at work. “Please don’t send us any Africans,” a group asked their boss. Then they looked at their African colleague and said, “Well you’re okay.” As a Christian, racism is a clear evil. Every human being is a human being, made in the image of God. Unfortunately, racism is real. But none of the black people I know in Belgium have ever expressed any fear of the police. (By the way, I assume that the vast majority of police in the US attempt to do their difficult job fairly, and I appreciate them for it).

I only know a couple black Americans who live here. One decided to move back to Europe after being so consistently pulled over by the police in the US. A black man driving an expensive car just looked too suspicious, he says. He doesn’t feel singled out by police here. The other man told me he feels safe jogging the streets of Antwerp at night, something he wouldn’t try in most American cities, at least not now.

Policing here feels different, less tense, less confrontational. Of course there are crimes, but far fewer murders and far, far fewer guns. In Belgium there are 17.2 firearms per 100 people. In the US, there are 120.5. It may be that people fear the police less because the police have less to fear. People carrying weapons is just so much rarer. Like I said yesterday, Americans like our freedom, which includes the right to bear arms. One European commenter on my post yesterday expressed how unfathomable this is to her. The idea of giving up guns is unthinkable to many Americans. It’s part of our way of life.

During the protests, people sometimes asked about violence in America. When I share about all the drugs, crime, and gangs that I encountered so frequently in California, some have responded, “So the movies are true?” I’ve never seen Boyz n the Hood, but yeah, you can find a lot of violence. It’s not Hollywood, though. People would come to me after the violence, when they were filled with grief, anger, or guilt. America is also a beautiful place, filled with helpful store clerks, smart doctors, genius entrepreneurs, and friendly neighbors. It’s all true, the violence and the peace, the hate and the love.

How can it be that America, the land of opportunity, the leader of the free world, the liberator of Europe from Nazi power, the place of the American dream – can be so full of racism, crime, inequality, addiction, and violence? Is it the decisions of individuals or is there something in the system? Is there a way to make it better? Is it just an inevitable part of any large nation?

I don’t have any policy solutions to America’s deep problems, just as I don’t offer any solution to its current political divide. I will say this, my churches in California were very small, but very diverse, and full of love. I can’t change the whole society, but I can love the people around me while we seek the kingdom of God together.

I called a friend the other day, a pastor in California. He told me, “The church has been on Zoom since March 15. We took the view that the virus is real and we should take precautions.” He described churches that took a different view: that churches should remain open for in-person services, that masking is optional (and frowned-upon), and social distancing is really unnecessary.

The striking thing is that each church and each individual had to choose a side. That has not been the case here in Belgium. The pandemic has revealed realities that already existed; one of those realities in America is division. The decisions one takes regarding mask-wearing and distancing is inseparably tied to a bundle of science, religion, and politics. Somehow, they all are seen to go together. Unlike in Europe where there are multiple political parties, in the US there are only two possibilities, and everything is reduced and funneled into these two channels. For a country that emphasizes freedom so much, where is the independence of thinking? As I hinted yesterday, my moral and political views don’t align very nicely with either of the two parties. But apart from a couple tiny parties, those are all we’ve got.

So division is one thing I notice in the light of the pandemic. The next is compliance.

The most obvious difference here is that the vast majority of people here simply do what the government says. So as a church we were online only during the first lockdown, then things opened up in stages (limited numbers, masks, and at first no singing). Now during the second lockdown we are back to livestream only. Most people complain about the rules, but most people follow them.

I called the Covid regulation hotline once to ask whether we could take a day trip somewhere in our own car. “Let me check,” the young man said. If the people working the hotline don’t know the answer, then the regulations are too complicated. We did not take the trip. A current rule is that each household is allowed a single visitor. This created the strange case where a single person could visit a large family, but that family could not visit the single person.

Whether or not the rules are sensible or science-based, most Belgians are inclined to follow the rules. We know an older woman who lives alone. She was planning to host her son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren for Christmas. This was allowed, as people who live alone were permitted two visitors during the holidays. But then at the last minute it was announced that children were included in the number. The son called and said, “Sorry mom, we can’t come. It’s against the rules.” But she could still go to them. Not everyone has been such a stickler for the rules, but my guess is that far more Belgians than Americans have followed the rules. There is a different mentality at work.

For example, a Belgian and one of the few Americans in our church were the first to join an online meeting some months ago. As we waited for others to join, I mentioned that I noticed that Belgians tend to follow the pandemic rules carefully. The Belgian nodded, “Of course!” The American, who is married to a Belgian said, “I think Belgians almost follow the rules too much. They don’t ask questions.” I said, “Spoken like a true American.” We are taught to question authority. Belgians may not be taught to respect authority, but they are taught to accept authority. Not that this is explicitly taught in school or anything, but it is implicit in the structure and expectations of the education system and society as a whole. Likewise in America, we breathe in certain ideas about freedom without even realizing it.

The church here is made up of many nationalities. This is very exciting and very challenging. But from what I have heard from pastors in the US, dealing with 40 nationalities is not as difficult as dealing with just one deeply divided nationality. I have come to recognize that people from different nations tend to take different views on how we should respond to the pandemic, just as they tend to take different views on other issues. The Dutch are laid-back about it. This shows up in the government’s response, as they reluctantly introduced an “intelligent lockdown.” According to the prime minister, they are a “grown-up country.” Apparently grown-up intelligence isn’t enough to stop the spread of the virus; the government implemented a stricter lockdown when infections raged. Compared to Italy and France, where many children didn’t leave their apartments for over 60 days in the spring, the Belgian approach has seemed moderate. Since our church has small groups from many countries, no one viewpoint can dominate. It seems appropriate to honor the perspective of the society we live in, so we lean towards the Belgian viewpoint.

Overall, I have been glad to live in Belgium during the pandemic. Most impressive is that Belgium handled it without a national government in place. The country went something like 600 days without a government. The political parties that won seats in the last election couldn’t agree on enough points to form a coalition government. A larger number of parties sometimes means less gets done. Some people feel that this is actually an advantage. I make no judgment whether it is better than the American two-party system. I’m just observing the differences.

I mentioned the different responses coming from the Netherlands, Belgium, Italy, and France. The UK, Sweden, Germany, and the rest of the European countries have also responded differently. There is a diagram that jokingly shows how different countries solve problems. (You might have to look up some flags to decipher it. To understand the joke about Belgium, you need to know the Belgian flag is black-yellow-red). I showed this to an older Belgian couple. They love their country in their modest way, as most Belgians do. They laughed, recognizing that there is some truth to the stereotypes here.

If all the European countries were trying to come up with a unified response to the pandemic, it would be exactly like the situation in America; in other words, utter chaos. In the US, each state, county, and city has implemented its own rules, like the nations of Europe have done. The diagram of problem-solving shows the EU’s approach on the bottom: reams of paperwork. I guess what I’m saying is that more diversity of opinion can actually mean there is less division. The European countries aren’t even trying to come up with a unified approach. But as the US is a single country, some sort of unified approach seems necessary. So I’m not prescribing a solution, simply pointing out what I see.

Another thing I see is what appears to me an absolute disaster: education. Five-year-olds are attempting online education from home. Or they are in homeschooling “pods” (if their families can afford it). Or they are in school a couple days a week. One friend says some of her high school students have not done a single assignment since the pandemic began. Meanwhile, in Belgium, schools are open and it doesn’t seem to be contributing much to the infection rate.

The Covid mortality rate in Belgium has been high. Check out worldometers if you want to compare. The government here insists the numbers are high only because of more accurate reporting. Instead of counting only verified Covid deaths, they include suspected cases as well. This may be true, as I have watched the deaths per million in other countries gradually rise towards Belgium’s rate over the months. Despite the fairly high rate of infection and mortality here, there hasn’t been much of a sense of alarm. And certainly not the kind of division that I see in the United States.

I have heard of large groups leaving American churches in protest over the issue of mask-wearing. I don’t offer any solution to the political divisions in the US. I do have something to say about division in churches. As Americans, we love freedom. I do too. Christians have very clear guidance, however, on how to use our freedom. Instead of insisting on our rights, we freely choose to give up our rights out of love for others. The Apostle Paul explained, “Though I am free and belong to no one, I have made myself a slave to everyone” (1 Corinthians 9:19). And again, “No one should seek their own good, but the good of others” (1 Corinthians 10:24).

The only way freedom works is when it is freely used in love for others.