Wait for it: the early church and Us

We live the Christian life between two moments: the coming of the Messiah Jesus back then, when the reign of God was “at hand”; and the coming of the Messiah Jesus again, when the reign of God will come in its fullness. We’re perpetually “in-between,” waiting for something that has not yet happened. And how are we supposed to live, while we wait? 

In the days of #coronatide, we have learned something about how hard it is to wait, and how exhausting it is to be passive, as we are helpless to change our own circumstances. We’ll look back to the early church, to see what stories they told about being the “waiting people of God.”

“In spite of persecution, you received the word with joy.” 1 Thessalonians is the earliest Christian writing, predating the gospels and all the other epistles of the New Testament. Paul here narrates the little church’s story back to the church, giving thanks for how the gospel took root among them, and recalling how they settled in to wait. They waited as we do: for the culmination of all the gospel’s promises. While they waited, they were persecuted. We’ll talk about the nature of their persecution and ours, and why we keep waiting after all this time.

Like siblings, like a wetnurse/mother, like a father, like orphans. Paul packs this chapter with familial metaphors to describe the closeness and affection he feels for the church, and they for each other. He emphasizes the necessity of holding each other close while we wait for God to act on our behalf. But he also acknowledges the pain of separation, attributing it to “Satan” because it is a powerful adversary to the faith, hope, and love of chapter 1.

“For this is the will of God, your sanctification.” The Thessalonians’ cultural context included expressions of sexuality that were exploitative and used in the politics of domination. Bringing one’s body and all its uses into alignment with God’s dream for the world is a strong and subversive statement against social hierarchy and a culture of abuse.

“So that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.” While we wait, people die. Paul’s own mythology of angels and trumpets in the clouds is not exactly resonant to our ears, but the hope of “being with the Lord forever” is still how we “encourage one another.” We say, “Death does not get the last word – as it did not with Jesus, so it will not with us” (v. 14, paraphrased).

“Children of light, children of the day.” In vv. 1-11, Paul describes our waiting as an active readiness – staying woke, keeping awareness that all is not well until we are at home in God’s heart. What does the uniform of faith, hope, and love (v. 8) prepare us for while we wait? And the closing instructions in vv. 12-28 – it’s a laundry list of virtues for life in community and life with God.

Ten bridesmaids. The Christian liturgical year closes out with three parables from Matthew 25. The one about the bridesmaids seems to indicate Jesus’s awareness that what we’re waiting for may take a long time, longer than we want, longer than we’re ready for. What are we likely to run out of, if we haven’t filled our tanks? (And is it really his advice that those with plenty should not share with those in need? Can we push back on that? But he’s right in guessing that it’s our impulse to hoard, and to take some pleasure in other people’s “foolish” unpreparedness.)

Buried talents. Using a capitalist analogy, Jesus seems to advocate for risk-taking in the life of his disciples. We don’t wait for God to act by hunkering down, passive and careful, hands closed tightly around what we’ve got. Rather, we release and relinquish, finding courage in our understanding of who God is – not the “harsh man” of v. 24, making us too afraid to act. What is it about God’s nature that empowers us to take risks for God’s sake?

Sheep and goats, “You did it unto me.” The “Son of Humanity” so identifies with the small, oppressed, marginalized people of the world that our lives can be assessed by how we have aligned ourselves with respect to them. Think of the gladiator games, where the emperor gave a thumbs up or thumbs down for the life of the competitors. Here, the emperor is replaced by “the least of these my brethren,” collectively informing Jesus the King as to the worthiness of each ovine in the judgment queue. A note: this is a parable, making extensive use of metaphor. It’s not a literal description of a “judgment day,” but it’s an imaginative exercise about an imagined future meant to provoke real action, here and now.