A Word for the Strong--July 16, 2020

A Word for the Strong--July 16, 2020

"We who are strong ought to put up with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Each of us must please our neighbor for the good purpose of building up the neighbor. For Christ did not please himself; but, as it is written, 'The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me'." [Romans 15:1-3]

These words are like a time bomb... with two charges set.  And it turns out that the apostle Paul is really something of a clever explosives expert.  Here's how his rhetorical improvised explosive device works.

First off, he reels us in by appealing to our egos (the clever fella). That opening phrase is simply irresistible: "We who are strong."  You know the moment you hear those words that you want to be counted as "strong," right?  You want to do or be whatever it takes to be numbered among "the strong."  And Paul leads with that, with a gracious and open invitation--"We, who are strong..." as if to say, "And you, dear reader, surely you are strong ones, too... aren't you?"  

And of course, we want to be.  So--boom!--the apostle has barely gotten a few words out and he's already caught us off guard.  We want to do whatever he says would make us "strong," and now we're just ready to hear what that is.  He's gotten us to bite, and now he's going to reel us in.   So what do we need to do to be strong like Paul?  Are we supposed to boss other people around?  Coerce others with lesser strength to do what we want?  Defiantly shout, "I'm going to do whatever I want, and you can't stop me?"  Threaten the people who stand in our way?

No.  None of those things.  Paul says that if we really are strong (and, come on, we all want to see ourselves that way), we'll bear with others who aren't.  And not only that (tick tick tick)... we will use our strength (tick tick tick)... to defer to the needs and good will of our neighbor.  In other words, the way to show "my strength" is precisely NOT to use it for my own sake in ways that show off, but to use it to bear the load for my neighbor, to deal with difficulties for my neighbor, and even to do what is pleasing and good for my neighbor for their welfare and well-being, rather than for my own.

BOOM.

There's the whole shootin' match.  There's the second charge on Paul's rhetorical time-bomb.  And in the explosion, everything gets turned upside down.  The purpose of strength is serving. The measure of your greatness is in how you help someone else who is struggling.  The thing to do with your willpower is to bend it to work for the good of someone else who is NOT you.  And the reason for all of this upside-down, inside-out thinking is--<gasp!> Christ himself.

Jesus, in whom the very fullness of God's infinite power, strength, glory, and greatness are embodied, used his strength for others, even to the point of using it all up and surrendering his life in utter weakness... yes, even to the point where the bullies in the room, the Romans, were sure that they were the truly strong ones, because they were the ones holding the hammer and Jesus was the one taking the nails.

And that, in a nutshell, is the whole scandal of Christianity: we are called to an upside-down kind of strength, the kind that bears suffering and bears hardship and bears mocking, and does it without needing to prove itself to others that it is tough.  In other words, genuine Christ-like strength doesn't need to get in the last word, doesn't need to look like it won the fight, and doesn't need to puff out its chest to project the illusion of dominance. Christ-like strength doesn't need to say nonsense like, "Nobody is tougher than me..." or "Nobody has done the great things that I've done," because real strength is too busy giving itself away to build up the neighbor to waste a breath on getting other people to notice. Real strength doesn't care what it "looks" like, and real strength doesn't spend its energy on maintaining its image.  Instead, the followers of Jesus who want to be genuinely strong will be willing NOT to get their way, NOT to get the perks, and NOT to be applauded for that very same strength.  

To the watching world, that sounds completely bonkers.  But we learned it first from Jesus, and then from teachers like Paul who dared us to imagine daily ways to keep channeling our strength for the well-being of others.  And the real genius of this way of thinking and acting is that since we all want to be counted among "we who are strong," then we will ALL commit ourselves to using our strength for each other.  Nobody gets left out.  Nobody is out on their own having to fend for themselves.  Nobody gets depleted to empty, because as I am pouring out my strength for you, you are going to be doing the same for me in turn.  And as I am striving to look out for your safety, well-being, and best interests, you'll be doing the same for me as well.

I'm sure the ancient Roman Empire was left scratching their heads when they saw a community of early Christians living like this.  They didn't know what to make of it, because the Empire saw things in a completely different light: for Rome, the "strong" ones used their might to get their way, leveraged their power for their own benefit, and bragged about it everywhere they went with stone monuments, arches of triumph, and crosses along the roadside.  The followers of Jesus, however, were an alternative kind of community that flew in the face of Rome's arrogant bluster.  The followers of Jesus from the beginning were committed to using their strength to build up others--and the watching world took note, and came to join them in droves.

Sometimes I wonder if the reason so many lament about churches stagnating is that all they've ever seen in churches are just sad attempts to play Rome's game by Rome's rules, rather than communities of people who use their strength for the sake of others.  If we actually dared to do that... and if we actually stopped beating our chests over our own interests... maybe the world would want to hear more about the Jesus we keep talking about, instead of assuming he's just another carbon copy of Caesar.

Today, dear ones--strong ones--let's allow Paul's rhetorical time bomb to go off in our hearts and minds and to shake up our old thinking so that we can serve and love the way Jesus did... the way Jesus still does.

Lord Jesus, draw from us our strength so that we can use it for the sake of others... just as you did for us.