Temptations in the arena of worldly striving and carnal ambition do not cease simply because you have “left the world,” and have joined the perfect church, or attached yourself to some edgy inner city monastery, or have become a hermit in a hut. You might go clean outside the city, like St. Simeon Stylites, and sit on top of a pole for a decade or two. Have you escaped the lure of the world? Not if your pole is the tallest one out there.
In the meantime, some poor nameless Christian courtier back in a Constantinian marbled court decided to give way to some ambitious political climber, and he did it because of how Jesus said we are supposed to live. The final day will reveal that graceful deference, but until then, he shall remain nameless.
God’s ways are not ours, and they are not sectarian. They do not divide along our factional, party lines.
Some kids growing up in a neo-Amish home can be filled with envious and sidelong glances all day long, because the older brother’s beard is coming in sooner and is way scragglier, and the oldest sister’s hair is longer and is wrapped up in a much tighter bun. The spirit in us veers towards envy, no matter where we are, and no matter what external bauble we are striving for. My Bible is more underlined than yours; my congregation calls me brother better than yours calls you the reverend; my lengthy syngogue prayers took best in show for three years running.
Meantime, some kids in the back seat of a 2010 Sierra, on the way back from the mall, get into a squabble about the toys in the shopping bag that is set between them. The toys are all made out of plastic, and they were purchased at WalMart. Their mother, who is driving, gently admonishes them for their grasping and quarreling, which is not what Jesus wants, and concludes with a gentle question, “Now, what do we say?” She hears two quiet sorries, and smiles to herself. The Holy Spirit is at work in the back seat of a new SUV. Of all places.
God’s ways are not ours, and they are not sectarian. They do not divide along our fault lines.
Now some might say that I may say this, but my examples are all along my fault lines. Not really. Forget the neo-Amish — I have met an Amish gentleman who clearly loved the Lord, and whose children had the right kind of bright in their eyes, and I have met some among the Reformed who had the wrong kind of glare in theirs.
The calculus that the Lord uses is not necessarily ours. The Bible says that what is esteemed among men is an abomination in the sight of God (Luke 16:15), and for some reason we we want to take this as a reference to what is esteemed among other men. What we esteem here in our group is just like they do in Heaven.
Because we want to referee the game, we also want to assign the colors of the uniform, and we want to be able to say who is on the floor, who on the bench, and who on the other team. God won’t let us do that.
Now, it is appropriate to have theological arguments about the biblical propriety of a Constantinian settlement for our civil order. Is this biblical? Did the prophets foretell it? Does discipling the nations entail this? Sure. Great. Let’s have a Bible study. But one argument that should be out of court from the get go is the argument that men are sinners and they will strive for preeminence if we go that way. The argument is out of court because men are sinners and they will strive for preeminence if we don’t go that way. You can’t argue against cooking a veggie omelet because that would involve using eggs, and go on to urge us to cook a ham and cheese omelet.
Daniel was humble in Babylon and John the Baptist was humble in the wilderness. Some put armies to flight in faith, and some were sawn in two, also in faith. The same kind of faith can accomplish very different results. Some, like Demas, loved the world and deserted the apostle. Some, like Diotrophes, rejected the apostles and rose to a preeminent position in the Church. What is that to you? the Lord might say. You follow me.