A reflection on 1 John 1:1-2:2.
“Forget the church, follow Jesus,” was the cover story in the April 8 edition of Newsweek magazine. In the article, Andrew Sullivan argues that the church has been corrupted by politics and misguided theology and that, in order to get away from all of that messiness, Christians should simply follow Jesus. He thinks that Thomas Jefferson had it right when he cut out the miracle stories and kept the teachings of Jesus. Sullivan writes, “[Jefferson] believed that stripped of the doctrines of the Incarnation, Resurrection, and the various miracles, the message of Jesus was the deepest miracle.”
That’s all well and good, except for that fact that I’m not quite ready to shun the wonder of last weekend. I’m not quite ready to shed the astonishment that hits every Easter when the proclamation is made “Alleluia! Christ is risen!” It is amazing, isn’t it? Sure, it’s puzzling and defies human reason. And it is the cornerstone of our faith. That promise--that Christ has conquered death--is what has carried me through grief at the loss of friends and family. That proclamation that we make every Easter, and, really, every Sunday, that Christ has conquered death, and in doing so promises us new life, too, carries us in the dark moments of life. It gives us life. It is the foundation of our faith.
But how does that carry out in every day life? What does it mean for us as Easter people to believe in the promise that Christ is victorious and promises us new life for today, not just in the life eternal? This by no means is a new question. It’s the question pondered by the writer (or writers?) of 1 John. Though it’s called a letter, 1 John is really more like an essay intended for a whole community to hear. That community, not unlike us, was trying to figure out what it meant to live in this time after Christ had come. What did it mean to live together? What did it mean to live in the mean time? What did it mean to live in the hope that Christ’s promise was true, for today and tomorrow and for life eternal? What did it mean to live in a world that still kept turning, that wasn’t perfect, that was still captive to sin? What did it mean to live?
One could attempt to live as spiritual a life as possible. One could hunker down and live in a little spiritual hole and try to forget that other people--and thus the stuff that came along with other people--existed. But that’s not God’s intent for us, is it? God created us to live together. God gave us the gift of one another. And most days, that’s a beautiful gift, isn’t it?
So what does that mean? It means that life together is messy. It means that because we’re human, we will sin. And if we say we don’t sin, we deceive ourselves (if those lines in 1 John sound familiar it’s because we often recite them in our confession of sin). Turning in on ourselves and away from God will always be a part of our human tendency because we’re not God. But, because God is God, God will forgive our sins and cleanse us from unrighteousness. God will keep on making us new--God will keep giving us new life--in this life. Because that’s what God does.
And knowing that, John says, we can walk in the light of Christ. And walking in the light of Christ means walking with one another. You know, other people. Jesus came as a human being--one who lived and breathed and ate and drank and died. And because of that, we are most likely to see God at work in other people. We also believe that Christ rose from the dead. And because of that we are most likely to see new life in the people who surround us. And, no, we’re by no means a perfect example of Christ-likeness in the world. We forget that he said to love one another and we ignore his command to love our enemies and we don’t want to remember that thing about leaving everything behind. And even so, we’re Christ’s body in the world. A broken, scarred, beautiful body called to live, love, and serve in this world.
Sullivan says that we should forget the church in order to best follow Jesus. But here’s the thing, even in all of our brokenness, the church--the gathered body of Christ in the world--is the best way for us to see Christ. I get skeptical any time someone says we should throw it all out because I trust that, buried under all of our brokenness, there is a whole lot of beauty. The church is no where near perfect. Because the church is made up of people, we will mess up. We’ll forget to welcome the stranger and we’ll make mistakes and we won’t always be the perfect example, but we’re all we’ve got. And, sometimes, we will remember that we are the body of Christ in the world--and we will do our best to manifest that. We’ll welcome the stranger and feed the hungry and cloth the naked and visit the imprisoned and the sick. And we’ll proclaim the promise that Christ lives and because Christ lives so do we. And we’ll eat some bread and drink from the cup and realize that, in doing so, we are empowered to be the body of Christ alive and at work in the world. And we’ll remember that that promise isn’t just for us who gather, but for the whole wide world. Because Jesus came not just for those of us who call ourselves Christians, or those of us who find ourselves sitting in church pews on Christmas and Easter and on Sundays in between, but for the world. The whole wide world. Which means everybody in it. Even the people we don’t know or don’t like very much. Jesus came for us all.
At our best, that’s the message the church has to give the world. But, because we’re a human institution, we bear scars of hatred and misunderstanding. We bear the scars of sin. If say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us, writes John. So we confess our sin and turn back to Christ. Again and again and again.
We’re all we’ve got. We will sin. We will fall short. And, so, we will turn back to God and ask for forgiveness. We will trust in the promise that God is faithful and just and will forgive our sins. We will trust in the promise that new life is for today and for life eternal. We will do our best to remember that this life is precious, and that the lives of our brothers and sisters on this earth are precious too. We will look to the light, and in doing so, see that it is in fellowship with God and with one another that we see the beautiful manifestation of the body of Christ. Alive and at work in the world.
Look in the mirror. That reflection is surely one beautiful reflection of the image of God. But then look all around you. Not just at your friends and family, but at all of the people who surround you. All of those people, the ones we see and the ones we don’t, all together, we make up the most beautiful image of the body of Christ. We need each other. In all of our messiness, we are the beautiful body of Christ. Crazy, isn’t it? And life-giving. And amazing. Bearing scars, even while we bear the good news that Christ is risen. Alleluia.
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