Whom do you trust?

Lord, help me always to tell it like it is.

We witness to the Lord Jesus Christ wherever we are, as second nature, without thinking about doing it, without personal intention or expectation, only the unspoken prayer, “Give the increase.”

A co-worker calls to me from over the cubicle wall. “You gotta see this!” I get up immediately, drawn by the hint of incredulity in the speaker’s voice. I round the corner and sit in an empty chair near the PC screen, as my friend reads aloud to me what he’s found on the internet, “Man is willing to pay $50,000 to Jews willing to relocate to Dothan, Alabama!” and then, “Hey man, this is for you!”

Even though he knows I’m a Christian, there’s just something about the label “Orthodox” that makes this friend, and many other people I’ve known over the years, think that I’m some kind of Jew. It doesn’t help that I’m bearded. A short conversation sprang up between us on the subject of the news story that concatenated a whole string of facts and ideas. Jews leaving small town America for the big cities, then, the depopulation of Polish Jewry, leaving hundreds of abandoned synagogues and cemetaries all over Poland, then the instant celebrity of any Polish Jewish boy who actually wants to be bar mitzvah’d. Then, as invariably happens, food comes up. “Yeah, aren’t rubens tasty with kosher corn beef and swiss cheese? Uh, wait a minute, even though the ingredients are kosher, that combination isn’t. Why?”

Then the conversation moves along as to how the rabbis added layers of “kosher” laws to the original single injunction “You must not boil a kid in its mother’s milk,” and how ridiculous this is, in view of what Abraham and Sarah offered to God the Holy Triad at their campsite at Mamre. Maybe God didn’t like the taste of meat and dairy at the same dinner (which is what He was served up), and so the next chance He got, He laid down the law about the “mother’s milk and kid’s meat don’t mix” thing.
Then the talk moved on to what happened to the two angels that visited Lot in Sodom, and then what happened to the city, and how Lot escaped with his two daughters, his wife having looked back and been morphed into a salt pillar. And then how what happened next gave rise to the Orthodox saying, “Do not defile yourself in the wilderness, where in the city you were pure.”

I can’t remember the rest of the conversation, but I have to remark on the faithfulness of God, who does not let His Word go forth and return to Him void. Whether my friend identifies himself as a Christian or not, he could find meaning in, and welcomed the exchange of ideas and stories recounted on a colloquial level, in fact he initiated it. This is how we witness. We just remain willing to defenselessly and joyfully deliver the Message that He wants to send. He appoints the rendezvous, and it’s always, as Sergei Fudel calls it, “a miracle of unexpected joy” (Light in the Darkness).

Did I bring Christ into the conversation? Did I announce the “four spiritual laws?” Did I ask my friend if he is saved? No, not this time, because that’s not what happened. But I am ready to, whenever the Lord ordains it. “Not my will, Lord, but Thine!”
Another co-worker showed up with a question, and as I was actually on my way out the door when this conversation occurred, I just let it go with a “Good night, guys, have a good evening! See you tomorrow!”

On the drive home, I got to thinking. All these folks I work with are very nice people, and at least a couple of them have told me they were or are Christians, and in the past (I’ve known them several years) we’ve sometimes shared a little about our Christian lives, or at least our upbringing. I know what some of them reject. In fact, no one in my office “goes to church” except me. Yet, they’re all nice people. This is the product of religious Christianity. When C. S. Lewis said that Christ came not to make nice people but new men (Mere Christianity), he was writing about this very thing.
So, as I was driving home, I was turning over in my mind, what is the source of my belief, what does my life in Christ grow out of (for this is the only thing Christian life can really mean)?

I thought back to one of my favorite concepts, that though we have five sense organs to give us knowledge of the natural world, we have one sense organ to give us knowledge of God (I should say spiritual world, but that would not be enough). That sense organ is the brain, in which resides the mind. The mind is the eye with which we can see God—everything else we use it for are like “extras” thrown in by the Maker. The problem is that most people use the mind for very opposite purposes, either because they don’t know any better, or because they do, and they don’t want to see God (Romans 1:20-21). When people have asked me why I believe in God, I sometimes say, “Honestly, it’s not really belief per se. I just know He’s there. In fact, He’s here with us right now in this very room, as we’re talking. It’s like I can see Him, not with my eyes, of course, but with my mind. I guess you could say, with the eye of faith.”

Then as I drove along, I started wondering how people must see me, and others whom they know are followers of Jesus, or at least call “religious” folks. They sometimes know that we pray, or say prayers, or talk to God, or whatever. But they, even when they claim “to believe in a God,” simply don’t pray. They don’t really think that there’s Anyone there listening. I can see their point. On the purely natural level, there’s no evidence of anyone or anything that “hears” all our thoughts and words, and “sees” all our actions.

So where do we, where did I, get that notion in the first place?
I can see how people can accept the concept that there is a God, but not know anything about Him, because there’s nowhere to find “more information” except—in the Bible! And that Book has had the most wild history of promotion and defamation of any book known to man, not to mention a whole slough of writers intent on making us believe that though it’s God’s Word, it’s not perfect (implication, not reliable), and that it must be studied in the context of its time and place.

Back to the notion that Someone is there that knows everything about us, hears all we say and think, sees all we do. For me, that has come primarily from the book of Psalms, which is rich with detail on the nature of God, Who He is, what He loves, what He hates, what He does and can do (there’s nothing He can’t do, but there are things He won’t do). I’m sure there are many places in the Bible where God’s nature is revealed simply enough for anyone to understand, but for me the Psalms are that place.
Now this is where “faith” actually does kick in, even for me. It is by faith that I accept and believe that what the Bible says about God is true in the first place.

Yes, faith—this is the stumblingblock for those who may claim to “believe in a God,” but cannot bring themselves any closer, let alone confess Him before men. They may justify their disinterest by their agnosticism, and their agnosticism by their biblical illiteracy, and their illiteracy by the corruption of the institutions representing Christianity. But without taking the personal initiative to seek the Lord where and when He can be found (Isaiah 55:6), that is, in the Word of God, they cannot hope to be justified or become children of the Promise, putting false hope in the “goodness” they attribute to the “God” in whose existence they say they believe, but of whom they have no objective knowledge.

So then, though the mind can “see” God, only faith can tell us of His attributes, and “can guarantee the blessings that we hope for, or prove the existence of realities that at present remain unseen” (Hebrews 11:1). And that faith cannot be arrived at by any amount of human thinking or speculation. That was the heresy of the false gnosis of ancient times. Instead, we have been given (as the Jews say) “the precious Implement by which the world was created,” that is, the Word of God. We have been given it (again, as the Jews say) “not to be made into a spade to dig with,” in other words, not something to serve us, to bolster our opinions and thoughts. Instead, we have been given the precious Implement “through Whom all things were made” (Symbol of Nicæa), and Who alone can remake us, as the Psalms declare.
What is faith then?

Of course, in an everyday sense, it really comes down to trust. Without realising it, everyone lives their life day by day based on trust that “things are as they think they are.” This is like not being afraid to enter the highway and jump into a lane of fast-moving cars, because you trust that the fear of instant chaos, damage or death will keep everyone on the road in their lane. This is like not being afraid to fly to Japan on a jet airliner because you trust what the scientists have discovered about the laws of physics, you trust the pilots to know how to fly the plane, and you trust the entire apparatus of the airport maintenance system to make sure there’s fuel in the plane and so on.

In various other areas of life, we have come to trust, or have faith in the reliability of various human institutions, and so we are able to live our earthly lives and function in relative peace and stability. We know we can trust scientists, as long as they stay scientific. We know we can trust doctors and other professionals, as long as they stay true to their various disciplines. Why then this lack of trust, this absolute disdain of theologians and clergy, and of “organized religion”? Sorry to say, a large proportion of these people have not stayed true to their discipline, wandering where they don’t belong, or bending the Bible to fit their agendas. However, there’s nothing more I need say about it here.
What I want to say is one more thing. Just as we trust a scientist when he stays scientific, we should trust a theologian when he stays theological. What is the discipline of the scientist? To study the natural world, do experiments, get results and publish them, so others can duplicate them. What is the discipline of the theologian? To study the Bible, do experiments (follow Jesus), get results (the life of salvation) and publish them (make disciples of all nations). If a theologian can’t be found where you live, find them among the Church fathers, or become one yourself.

True science requires honesty, study and hard work, but it’s worth it. True theology, the same.

The true scientist trusts the natural world to be true, takes it at face value, tests it, confirms its truth, and himself can be trusted. The true theologian trusts the Bible to be true, takes it at face value, tests it, confirms its truth, and himself can be trusted.

Whom do you trust?

The Disappearance of Holy Orthodoxy

“Father Paul Florensky used to say in the [nineteen] twenties that he admitted the possibility that a local, national church would cease to exist. The promise to remain invincible to the gates of hell was given to the Ecumenical Church, not to the church of a given country. Similar thoughts were expressed by Bishop Theophan the Recluse. In the 1870’s, at a time of seeming prosperity for the Russian Church, he wrote ‘The younger generation is kept within the limits by memories of their childhood, of their parents’ traditions. But what will happen to their children? What will keep them in bounds? I believe that within a generation or two our Orthodox faith will disappear’ (Letters concerning Christian life, 1886, pp. 70-71).”

—Sergei Fudel, Light in the Darkness, pp. 14-15
italics in the text added

Except for the first graphic of the current issue Dynamis cover, all the others come from Dynamis issued during the ministry of Fr. James Retelas. They were not included to illustrate the topic, but rather to provide a visual contrast with what is today being promoted as Orthodox Christianity in one Portland community.
Click the images to ZOOM.

This morning I was having breakfast, and I noticed a copy of Dynamis lying on a chair in the corner of the room. That’s the newsletter of my parish church, now the Cathedral of Holy Trinity. The full-color masthead is eye-catching. I designed it in the days when Fr. James Retelas and I revived the publication perhaps fourteen years ago, and renamed it. We had been talking about a new image and focus for The Voice of Holy Trinity, and then I woke up in the middle of the night with the verse ringing in my ears, “…since the kingdom of God is not just words, it is power,” and the Greek word δυναμις (dýnamis = power) immediately came to mind. I recounted this to Fr. James, and he thought that would give a good focus and establish a sound theme for our newsletter. Then, for many years, I was the general editor and often main writer. I used to put scripture verses at the top of every page, trying to relate them to whatever news or articles were below.
Back to my subject, I saw the Dynamis lying on a chair, and so I picked it up and started reading it instead of the book I had brought to the table. The front page article, as always, was a missive from the current pastor. This time entitled “Gather My People to My Home.” Apparently the theme of this year’s clergy-laity congress, the pastor broke it down into three points (as he seems to do with everything) so we could understand it better. How to gather God's people home? Easy! (1) Come to services ourselves. (2) Create a friendly environment when you get here, so any strangers walking in will feel welcome. (3) Actively invite friends and neighbors to come (or come back) to church. “When you say to someone ‘we miss having you around,’ and do so with sincerity and sensitivity, this can be a profound expression of love.” This is our pastor’s advice, and as always, he signs himself, “With Deep Love in the Lord,” at the end of every message.
The Dynamis (the September issue, out well before the beginning of the month!) was very well organized and full of colorful photos this time, because August had been a very busy month. So much had happened, so much to look forward to, as Fr. Paul had ended his message, praying “may God truly ‘bless the crown of the year of God’s goodness,’ granting us all every spiritual and material blessing.” As I perused the many pages of the issue, I felt like I was looking at a family album or corporation yearbook. Nothing but happy faces, activity after activity. This is what newsletters are for, I guess.
Finally, towards the end, pictures gave way to more serious stuff, articles about the Greek cultural museum that has found a home in the space that Fr. James had called “the Upper Room,” announcements about a Greek film evening, Rebetiko festival, and workshops on Greek textiles. (Too bad I had to sell my collection of ancient Greek coins a few years back to supply missing income during a family emergency—I could have donated them to the museum!) The museum page also tucked in the announcements that aroused me to write what I am about to express. Two things, first the schedule for Saturday “Vespers Education Lecture Series,” and second, “Run For the Congo Women.”
For the non-Orthodox reader, the Orthodox “Sunday” begins at sundown on Saturday with a service called “Great Vespers.” This service lasts a minimum of an hour and can stretch to 90 minutes or more in some churches and seasons. The idea is, to worship together on the Lord’s day three times, evening prayer, morning prayer (orthros = dawn), and then the divine liturgy (main service culminating with Communion). What to do between the evening and morning services? What else? Go home, have a light supper, pray some more (apodeipnon = after dinner prayers), study your bibles together, sleep, and then get ready in the morning for more worship.
Why do I entitle this article, “The Disappearance of Holy Orthodoxy” and preface it with a quote from a modern church father? Well, look at the Saturday evening schedule that I read in Dýnamis…

September 6 — In place of Vespers, we will celebrate the “Akathist in Praise of God’s Creation,” [followed by a lecture] Topic: “The Wonder of Creation”
September 13 — Creation as Sacrament: Finding God in All Things
September 20 — Preserving God’s Creation: Our Human Responsibility
September 27 — Orthodoxy and the Environmental Movement

This is more of what the current pastor is pursuing since “taking over” our community about two years ago. Coming fully equipped with a pacifist, environmental, vegetarian, secular humanist, politically left agenda, fully intentioned to raise our community’s consciousness to a new level, using his specific talents for oratory, the Greek language, and dramatic choreography to gather support from those Orthodox whose “religion” is the performance of ceremonies and the throwing of gala social events, our “pastor” and his helpers are transforming what once was a spiritually focused and free, alive Christian community, into a mechanistic, controlled, modern corporation of working bodies, slaves in fact, not of God, but of the world system and its representatives. A world system that likes to “galvanize” people into action, enrolling them in meaningful and compassionate activities like the one that follows, the second thing that stirred me to write this article.
“Run For the Congo Women” brought to my attention something I had never heard about, that there is a civil war or something going on in what used to be called the French Congo. Apparently about four million people have died and women are abused and killed in large numbers. If this is true, it makes me wonder where the UN is in all this, the EU, or even the US? “Compassionate” people should get their governments to intervene. Instead, we have “Portland’s own local hero, Lisa Shannon” organizing an event on September 14th called “The Portland Run for the Congo Women.” The church’s own Philoptochos is inviting women from our church to run/walk in this event, and is even asking men “to help financially with a small donation.” (Items in quotation marks are exactly reprinted from Dýnamis.) I suppose this is a way to show solidarity with suffering humans whom we will never personally see or get to know, and to feel good about ourselves being compassionate and sympathetic.

What I have just described is where the Portland Holy Trinity community is headed. It truly amazes me how the good work of many generations of priests and pious laypeople can be undone or “transformed” in so short a time and by so few people. Part of this is the reticence on the part of Orthodox Christians to stand up for their faith when it is being challenged, especially by clergy. The result is that the Church can be derailed in a local area from its primary purpose and harnessed to the futile efforts of the world under its blind guides. The human damage can still be enormous, hundreds and even thousands of lives thrown away right here where you and I live, as souls are lost, not just bodies in faraway countries, yet even they are included in the ones that Christ came to save, He who taught us,

All authority in heaven and earth has been given to Me. Go, therefore, make disciples of all the nations; baptize them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teach them to observe all the commands I gave you. And know that I am with you always; yes, to the end of time.

Matthew 28:18-20

A sense of Welcome

“Anyone who welcomes you welcomes Me…”

Anyone who is part of a family or other closely related group knows this situation. You come home, or you wake up in the morning, or you walk into a room where the others are. It can be husband or wife, it can be children, it can be mother or father, brother or sister that are already there, and suddenly, there you are too. You expect to be greeted with a smile, with words of greeting, comforting words.

In Japan, we say when entering the house after being out, “Tadaima!” And if anyone at all is home, we hear the response, “Okaeri nasai!” and then see the smile of welcome following on the words. This is what we expect in our hearts, because God made us that way, to expect love, to expect welcome. He made us that way because He it is who is waiting for us to return to Him, so that He can drop everything and run to embrace us, to make us feel welcome, to love us face to face.

To continue, you expect to be greeted with a smile, with a welcoming word or gesture. Instead, you hear words of unwelcome, you hear words of criticism or judgment, you may not hear a greeting at all, and the face that you see is not what you expected. As in a dream, you pursue someone whom you know, and when you catch up to them, they turn around, and they are a stranger, and you back away, confused. Only this is happening now, in the “real” world. You are awake. The words you hear cut into your heart, the face you see flashes unwelcome eyes. You know you are not wanted, and there is nothing you can do about that.

It is not with the one who comes, but with the one who receives, that the power of welcome lies. This is one of the most painful of experiences.

Jesus has much to say about this situation in the gospels.

“Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. For I have come to turn a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law—your enemies will be the members of your own household. Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves a son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take up their cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever finds their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life for my sake will find it. Anyone who welcomes you welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me. Whoever welcomes someone known to be a prophet will receive a prophet's reward, and whoever welcomes someone known to be righteous will receive a righteous person's reward. And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is known to be my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly be rewarded.” (Matthew 10:34-42)

Everyone, without qualification, that comes to us deserves our welcome, and if we follow Jesus, and if we do what we see Him doing, we will welcome them. If this is true of any human creature, how much more is it true for members of our own household, for our own family members, for those who “have a right” to hope for a welcome from us. Yet often this is not what we give, or what we receive. Still, we need that sense of welcome more than anything else, even more than food, more than life itself.

Following Jesus separates us from people. A brother and more-than-friend of mine asked me yesterday, “I’ve heard people say that to follow Jesus is a very lonely road. Is this true?” Those of us sharing a meal together tried to answer, as best we could. Yes, to follow Jesus is in a sense a lonely road, because you find that you are no longer welcome to many people, to your neighbors, to your erstwhile friends, and even to your own family members. Jesus Himself tells us this. Yet there, at that table, was the proof of the love of Christ, the incarnate gospel, that although we might be outcasts from the world, maybe unwelcome by those to whom we should be welcome, at that table, where He was present with us, we were more than welcome, to Him and to one another.

So there is a sweetness to the bitter edge of martyrdom. With Jesus, who draws us together around Himself like a belt, we are welcome, and of that welcome we can be the ambassadors, passing on to those around us the good news that God has reconciled all of us to Himself through the sacrifice of His Only-Begotten Son. We can offer to others the welcome that has been denied us. We can do this because we are now really free to choose.

And so we choose to follow Jesus.

“… and anyone who welcomes Me welcomes the One who sent Me.”

Orthodox evangelism

There seems to be no standard method of evangelism in the Orthodox Church, especially now in these modern times. Unfortunately, Orthodoxy in America is very lazy, waiting for converts to come to the church on their own. Some of the clergy that I know seem to be strangely proud of this fact, as if a fisherman should be proud that fish somehow find their way into his net without the net being cast. This is not an apostolic attitude.

Until recently most converts came through marriage to an Orthodox man or woman, as in the film My Big Fat Greek Wedding. This film was embarassingly accurate in many details, uncovering some of the less laudable realities of Greek Orthodoxy in America.

The last twenty years or so has seen Orthodoxy capitalizing on the frustrations of Roman Catholics (against contemporary worship) and Protestants (against modern worship and deconstruction of scriptural faith). In Northern Ireland, Orthodoxy capitalizes on the frustrations of both groups with the endless cycle of animosity between them. Protestant clergy often visit the Antiochian priest secretly for help that they cannot get elsewhere.

In general, the Orthodox Church doesn't evangelize as an institution. It simply maintains order in doctrine and practice, and disseminates information about itself as a faith community, focusing in on what makes it distinctive. This makes it appear to buy into the ecumenical world view that "all paths lead to God," which is of course the fundamental heresy of our times.

Real evangelism takes place almost exclusively through the unsupported efforts of ordinary Christians, like myself. The style varies, but I would say that what we've done, reading the Bible aloud publicly and the rest of it, is very much in the Orthodox tradition.

Orthodoxy is the faith of the martyroi, the witnesses, and that's what we do, wherever we are. No frills, no strings attached, leaving God to do the work of converting men's hearts. All we do is follow along behind Jesus. He does it all.

"All we do is catch the fish with the Word of God. He cleans ‘em and sorts ‘em out."

"Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men." (Matthew 4:19 NIV)

With the net of the Word

"Come, follow Me", not so much by following Me exteriorly but by loving Me, imitating Me, and I will make you fishers of men, that is, teachers of mankind. In fact, it is with the net of the Word of God that men must be drawn.

— St. John Chrysostom

The peace of Christ

Peace, perfect peace, in this dark world of sin?
The Blood of Jesus whispers peace within.
—Edward Henry Bickersteth

Hymn writer

Peace, that which comes from above and is granted by God alone through Christ is not easy to define, but it definitely does NOT mean something like "all's well" or "peace and quiet" in the usual sense. Peace from God does not necessarily mean that there is no trouble anywhere in our life, nor that we are not faced with problems to which we cannot find a solution.

It's easier to talk about this peace that comes from God through Christ and is bestowed on us in prayer than it is to actually have it. Why? Because we usually talk about it when we are NOT in any great distress, emergency or need, but after we have been delivered from it. We look back in retrospect and thank God for the deliverance and find words of testimony to give about God's faithfulness.

What is the best definition of and the most convincing testimony to the "peace from above"?

When we are presently in distress, in danger, at risk, beset with problems we see no end of, when we are suffering persecutions, slander, unjust accusations, when no one believes us, when no one cares about us, and we are not sad, not unhappy, not anxious, not disturbed, not reproachful, uncomplaining, unmoved to anger or revenge, still hopeful, still forgiving, still loving our enemies, still seeking God’s Kingdom first and His righteousness, never giving in to despair or abandonment. When we are in THIS place, and can define "the peace of God which passeth all understanding" not only by the word of our confession, but also by our passionlessness, then we have understood and accepted what that peace is. It's the same peace that Jesus knew when He was crucified and when He uttered with His last breath, "It is finished. Into your hands I commend my spirit (for You have redeemed me, God of Truth)." It is the same peace which Jesus gave to His disciples when He said, "My peace I give you, a peace the world cannot give."

This is the peace of Christ.

Do whatever falls into your hands

Two quotes, the first sent me by my sister in Christ, Presvytera Candace Schefe, who has been faithfully sending such things to me for several years. This one is a gem from Theophan the Recluse. (Theophan the reckless might just as well describe him, a saint like I want to be.) The second is one I've heard before, because it comes with the "signature" in business emails sent me by an acquaintance, Fritz Krahl, who I've never met in person, but who seems like someone I'd like to meet. Anyway, both of these quotes eloquently convey some of the truths by which I've tried to live my life, and I wanted to share them with you, my friends…

Do whatever falls into your hands, in your circle and in your situation, and believe that this is and will be your true work; nothing more from you is required.

It is a great error to think that you must undertake important and great labors, whether for heaven, or, as the progressives think, in order to make one’s contribution to humanity. That is not necessary at all.

It is necessary only to do everything in accordance with the Lord’s commandments.

Just exactly what is to be done?

Nothing in particular, just that which presents itself to each one according to the circumstances of his life, and which is demanded by the individual events with which each of us meets. That is all.

If you set about to act in this way in every instance, so that your works will be pleasing to God, having carried them out according to the commandments without any deviation, then all the problems of your life will be solved completely and satisfactorily.

Theophan the Recluse

And now, from Fritz (but I don't know if this is a saying of his, or if he's quoting someone else)…

"Be kinder than necessary, for everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle."

Not only on paper

A hearty “thank you” to Presvytera Candace Schefe for this quotation from The Prologue from Ohrid.

That Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith.
Ephesians 3:17

A person does not have Christ who has Him only on his tongue.

Neither does a person have Christ who has Him only on paper.
Neither does a person have Christ who has Him only on the wall.

Neither does a person have Christ who has Him only in a museum of the past.

A person truly has Christ who has Him in his heart.

For Christ is Love and the throne of Love is the heart.

If Christ is in your heart, then, for you, He is God.

If He is only on your tongue, or on paper, or on a wall, or in a museum of the past—and even if you call him God—for you, He is but a toy. Beware then, O man, for no one can play around with God without punishment.

The heart is a seemingly narrow organ, but God can dwell in it. When God dwells in it, then it is filled, and filled to overflowing, and nothing else can stand in it. If, however, the whole world were to settle in it, it would remain empty without God.

Brethren, let Christ, the Resurrected and Living Lord, pour faith into your hearts, and your hearts will be filled, and filled to overflowing. He cannot enter and dwell in your hearts except through your faith. If you do not possess faith, Christ will remain only on your tongue, or on paper, or on the wall, or in a museum of the past. What benefit is there for you in that?

What benefit is there for you in holding life on your tongue and death in your heart? For if you hold the world in your heart and Christ on your tongue, you hold death in your heart and life on your tongue. Water on the tongue of the thirsty does not help. Let the living Christ into your heart, and your will be permeated with the truth and you will sense unspeakable sweetness.

O Resurrected Lord, cleanse our heart from the deadly guests who dwell in it and do Thou Thyself take up dwelling in it, that we may live and glorify Thee. To Thee be glory and praise forever. Amen.

A wandering moneyless tribe

"Regarding the rest of mankind, you should pray for them unceasingly, for we can always hope that repentance may enable them to find their way to God. Give them a chance to learn from you, or at all events from the way you act. Meet their animosity with mildness, their high words with humility, and their abuse with your prayers. But stand firm against their errors, and if they grow violent, be gentle instead of wanting to pay them back in their own coin. Let us show by our forbearance that we are their brothers, and try to imitate the Lord by seeing which of us can put up with the most ill-usage or privation or contempt—so that in this way none of the devil's noxious weeds may take root among you, but you may rest in Jesus Christ in all sanctity and discipline of body and soul."

—Ignatius of Antioch, Epistle to the Ephesians, ch. 10

The above quote from Ignatios of Antioch's Epistle to the Ephesians was left as the twenty-second comment on a blog post chronicling the adventures of a wandering, moneyless tribe consisting of a "moneyless" philosopher and three young companions, members of the "Jesus Christian" cult. The comments began as a friendly questioning of the assertions and actions of this group by three followers of Jesus who are well-acquainted with the "philosopher." His responses gradually led the discussion to an impasse, and the addition of a couple of verbal ruffians made matters worse. The string of comments can be seen as a contemporary example of the kind of confrontation that we read about in early Christian history. We are still, as C. S. Lewis observed, "the early Christians," so we can expect to be handled in the same way that they were.
The hyperlink above takes you to that post.

How deep the rabbit hole goes

Today I discovered a new strand of progressive thinking which really goes over the edge, and down Alice's rabbit hole. What to make of this quote by author and philosopher James Hughes?


"The emergence of biotechnological controversies, however, is giving rise to a new axis, not entirely orthogonal to the previous dimensions but certainly distinct and independent of them. I call this new axis biopolitics, and the ends of its spectrum are transhumanists (the progressives) and, at the other end, the bio-Luddites or bio-fundamentalists. Transhumanists welcome the new biotechnologies, and the choices and challenges they offer, believing the benefits can outweigh the costs. In particular, they believe that human beings can and should take control of their own biological destiny, individually and collectively enhancing our abilities and expanding the diversity of intelligent life. Bio-fundamentalists, however, reject genetic choice technologies and “designer babies,” “unnatural” extensions of the life span, genetically modified animals and food, and other forms of hubristic violations of the natural order. While transhumanists assert that all intelligent “persons” are deserving of rights, whether they are human or not, the biofundamentalists insist that only “humanness,” the possession of human DNA and a beating heart, is a marker of citizenship and rights."

James Hughes, Democratic Transhumanism 2.0, 2002

And now, for a quote that for us simpletons is a tad easier to understand and which, thankfully, gets to the core of Mr. Hughes philosophy…

Immortality

"My problem with immortality is simply that I don't exist. You don't either. Our so-called personalities are just roiling masses of evolving impulses, memories, thoughts and sensations. There is no central chip, no core thought, no essential memory, that makes you you."

James Hughes

A new Tower of Babel

June is Gay Pride month in Portland, Oregon.

Nothing has changed. People are still people. There will always be a minority of people who have sexuality issues, whose emotional makeup is at odds with their physical configuration. God made us. How some of us got out of harmony, only God knows. He is probably more merciful towards people with this kind of dysfunction than most people believe. Every defect or obstacle is permitted to test us and make us stronger, not to destroy us. That goes for people with sexuality issues too. Now, the world has built another tower of babel, this time for sexuality issues, hoping to funnel the people who have them into chain gangs, to haul the building blocks up the ramps. Higher and higher they go. It's only a matter of time before the Hand of God strikes the building and releases the slaves.

Come, Lord Jesus.

In a world like that

"Father, I’ve come to ask you to bless me."

"No. If you're right, you'll have God's blessing. If you're wrong, my blessing won't mean anything. If might is right, then love has no place in the world."

"It may be so."

"But I don't have the strength to live in a world like that.
I can't bless you."

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

John 1:5

Scolding the Sheep

I wish I could say that it was the first time I've heard a homily like this, but it isn't. I've heard similar things before, and from the same preacher, who happens to be a retired high school teacher and an ordained deacon. While he was preaching, I was praying the psalms.
I started with Psalm 38 and got as far as Psalm 44. I didn't plug my good ear, because I was listening to him while I prayed. He has warned me that to pray or read my bible during sermon time is childish and disrespectful. On my side, I just want to make best use of my time. If a sermon or homily is useful, I listen. If it isn't, I pray. The following is in quotation marks for effect. They are not the deacon's exact words, but the general content of his homily, as I remember it.

"I fear for the future of the Church," he confesses, "because attendance at liturgy has gotten to be so poor. It's great that we have all kinds of projects and events that we work on, the Festival, AHEPA Crab Feeds, Greek Dancing, various glendis and what not.
But that's not what the Church is for. We should all be here whenever there's a service. The church is barely an eighth full when liturgy starts, and even by the time of the reading of the Gospel it's not even half full. People are piling in late and that's not right. If this were a really healthy parish, umm, I mean, cathedral, we would have eighteen bible studies instead of only two, and there would be at least three priests serving here, instead of one. Children don't do what we say, they watch us and do what we do. How can we expect our holy faith to be passed on to the next generation, if they see us acting in such a careless and irreverent manner? Where's our zeal?"

Yes, deacon, I too fear for the future of this church, but not for the future of The Church. By definition, the Church of Christ is the congregation of all faithful Christians, no matter where they be, who follow our Lord Jesus Christ and confess Him their Savior, and prove on the battlefield of their own bodies that they are willing to lay down their lives for Him, not only their two or three hours a week. I am simply appalled that the shepherds should scold the sheep for not being fruitful and multiplying.

"Go forth and make disciples of all nations," the deacon reiterated several times. "Why aren't we doing that?" he asks, using "we" instead of "you" because, I hope, he realises he is even more responsible than the sheep are for his lack of anything more than verbal zeal.

One of the first duties of the clergy is to actively seek out members of the congregation placed in their charge who have the kinds of spiritual gifts, talents, skills, dispositions, and desires that qualify them for active ministry in the church. Instead, what we have are clergy professionals who confess they are "afraid of the people," because they "cannot trust them," and who therefore hoard all authority and desire all control to be in their own hands. Then they wonder why attendance dwindles, why people don't come to them for confession, why (from their point of view) the parish has let them down.

Don't scold the sheep! Step up to the plate and be good pastors of the flock, and you will see results, if that's what you want. But as long as you want to play the numbers game, and do little else but picture perfect liturgies and ho-hum, kaffee-klatsch meetings, you're going to lose, even the numbers game, even what little you think you have. You cannot cheat God, nor is the flock deceived. We know when we have a shepherd who is doing what he sees the Good Shepherd doing, and when that happens, we come a-running.

Communion according to Chrysostom

Week by week you come to the Lord's table to receive bread and wine. What do these things mean to you? Do you regard them merely as some kind of spiritual medicine, which will purge your soul, like a laxative may purge your body? Or do you sometimes wonder what God is saying in these simple elements?
Bread and wine represent the fruits of our labor, whereby we turn the things of nature into food and drink for our sustenance. So at the Lord's table we offer our labor to God, dedicating ourselves anew to His service. Then the bread and the wine are distributed equally to every member of the congregation; the poor receive the same amount as the rich. This means that God's material blessings belong equally to everyone, to be enjoyed according to each person's need.
The whole ceremony is also a meal at which everyone has an equal place at the table. Thus we are celebrating our fellowship as brothers and sisters, with Christ as our unseen elder brother at one end of the table, and God as our unseen father presiding at the other end.

John Chrysostom

Archbishop of Constantinople

‘Who's your Friend?’

Today while driving my wife to go shopping (she doesn't drive), I tailgated a vehicle that had a little black bumpersticker "Got Jesus?" I've thought about having my inventor/mechanic son (number 3, born on Father's Day, he turns 23 next weekend) design and install for me a paint-ball gun behind the radiator screen on the front of my van. Then, I could paint-ball bumpers that desecrate the name of Jesus, like the one I just saw.

I live in hippie-dippy neo-pagan Oregon, but I work in whoopie-cushion Christian Washington state. Few things irritate me as much as using the motor vehicle, especially its more humble parts, as billboards to advertise one's make and model of Christianity.

"Only God" is another one of the stickers that I see, usually gracing the rear window of a car or pickup. "Real men love Jesus" was another one I saw last week. Aarrrgh!!!
I believe that Orthodox deacons, presbyters, bishops, and monastics should go around in public in their "blacks." No, I don't mean just wearing something black, I mean their rassos or anderis, or whatever they call them, yeah, their black dresses! And I think they should wear their pectoral crosses if they have one. Yeah, and I think that they should have long hair tied back in a pony-tail and have at least a nice, trimmed beard, if not a full, shaggy one. I don't feel that it matters if clergy of other denominations, including Roman Catholics, wear their clerical "blacks" in public, but I do think it's important that the Orthodox do. Why? Because our faith cannot be gainsaid, cannot be ridiculed or opposed, because ours is the ground floor, the foundation of all the others, because "we don't move the ancient landmarks set by our ancestors," and yet ours is the faith that does not grow old, "planted by streams of water, yielding its fruit in season, its leaves never fading." So our men and women "of the cloth" should appear fully clad in their uniforms, just as policemen do in the keeping of law and order, because what they are keeping is even more powerful, more precious.
Years ago, when I was a young man living in Edmonton, Alberta, the Orthodox priests used to go about downtown in their "blacks" and I often witnessed the native people (who were Orthodox, usually) and living on the street, reduced to poverty and alcoholism, get up off their blankets and flock to the priests whenever they appeared, kneeling before them, weeping and kissing their hands, asking not for money, but for prayer and a blessing. Witnessing this touched me deeply, and affected me in two ways.

First, that our priests really do represent not just the Church but Christ Himself when they appear publicly in their garb, and thus He clothes them with power from on high. Second, that any of us who are members of the priestly and kingly race known as Christians have the same calling, the same ministry to the lost, and can always walk with Jesus, ready to help anyone He puts in our path, in whatever way is indicated. This has made me what I am, and why I wear this attitude in place of my baptismal cross or icon button or whatever. I don't want to wear my decorations before I earn them. I don't want to put on my medal until the war's over and I've come through it alive. Anyway, that's my rationale as to why I don't purposely wear anything, especially an overt religious symbol, when I'm in the world. I used to do this when I was a young Christian (yeah, that's me in the picture), but there just came a day when I saw that it had to be me and not my flag that would draw people to me for help, because they could see I loved them, and not that I had a product to sell.

When I walk about in the world, at work, at shopping, out on the street, I often whistle a hymn from the Anglican hymnal (I have dozens memorised), one that anyone who’s ever gone to church would probably recognize. Why? I just want to remind myself, and them, that Jesus is near. I never go out anywhere without at least a pocket New Testament with me, that I can read while I'm sitting waiting for my oil change, or for my wife to finish shopping. When I go to the coffeehouse, alone or with a friend, I always try to have my Greek NT with me, and I like to read it for relaxation, out loud but softly. At work, my office cubicle has paper icons interspersed with family and friends' photos on the walls. So yes, I do have an appearance, a sign of the presence of Christ in my life, but it's not for show, it all has a purpose in which I live my life. Doing that unabashedly in public or in private, that's the way I let the shadow of Christ fall across my path. And if others notice the shadow, they may ask, "Who's your Friend?"

Passover Flight

After trying many times to jumpstart my new blog, Taka's Japan, and after announcing it already once before, here I am again to give it another try. Our trip, and I should call it pilgrimage, to visit our best friend Taka and see something of Japan, is now just over a month in the past. You'd think I'd have had enough time by now to let the memories ripen and start to harvest the telling, but to tell the truth, Japan affected me so deeply, it has nearly left me speechless. Nevertheless, at least on the level of a travelog, I should be able to tell it now.

I'm starting the story here on Cost of Discipleship, because it starts out with a remarkable testimony of God's faithfulness that I want to share. Afterwards, there will be a link to take you to Taka's Japan, and I hope you will enjoy it.

Brock and I had airline tickets for a 2:30 p.m. departure from PDX on the 19th of April. It hadn't escaped us that this day was of special significance—the first evening of the Jewish Passover would begin at sundown, wherever we were. It was the first trip outside North America for either of us, and we would be crossing the sea to get to our destination.
To observe in some modest way the Passover Seder, the evening ceremonial meal that Jews partake of on this night, Brock had bought a box of whole wheat Matzos and a six pack of Welch's grape juice.
(I saved the empty box from last year's Passover matzos, and that's where I got the picture, but it's not the box we used this year.) Anyway, as we did some last minute packing at Brock's place, we stuffed the matzos in my carry-on bible bag, and divided the grape juice bottles, putting two of them in Brock's backpack, and the other four in the cargo pockets of his pants. Then, we set off for the train that would carry us to the airport.

Things went fairly smoothly for us at the airport. That is, until we got to the security screening. As a person who hasn't flown much in the last few years, I was not on the ball about how to get ready to pass through the metal detectors, and as a result almost got rejected. When our carry-ons went through the screening machine, the two bottles of grape juice in Brock's backpack were discovered and he had to surrender them. After we both emerged on the other side of the security station and took stock of what we had and what we lost, we remembered the four bottles of grape juice still in Brock's cargoes. Whew! We could still observe the minimum of the Passover observance. We still had our "bread and wine."

No more hitches. We soon found ourselves getting aboard the plane and found our seats—the two middle seats in the group of four that runs down the center of the plane. On my left was a very tired and very private Japanese businessman, stiffly dressed and very taciturn. During the whole flight he pretended we weren't there, even when I excused myself in Japanese for accidentally grabbing his seatbelt as mine. On my right was Brock, and on his right was an Asian man who looked to be about 35 years old and probably Korean. We got our bags stowed under the seats and in the overhead, and settled down for the long flight. I wondered, would I be able to sit that long?

Before we'd left the ground, we started up a little conversation of greetings and introductions with the Korean man (we were right about his nationality), and he seemed genuinely friendly and good-natured. After a few minutes of this, we all got quiet again, as the plane took off and we were airborne. But things just didn't stay that way.

Something the Korean gentleman had said a few minutes earlier had piqued my curiosity, and so I called over to him and asked him my question. I can't now remember what it was. Maybe I asked him about his business or where he lived. However and whenever we learned these details during the course of the flight, he was a Korean who worked for a company based in Germany and their business was antennas and other such equipment. In the course of his career with them, Phil (for that was his English name) had done quite a bit of travelling in Europe. As I am a German-speaker and have a cultural interest in Germany, I asked him what it was like there.

This is how our conversation started out. Of course, I'm not describing the topics we talked about during the first part of our acquaintance or any of Brock's words, but all three of us engaged in a gradually deepening exchange of experiences, thoughts and philosophies. At some point, we found ourselves having to explain things about the two of us that brought into the discussion things like Jewish history, and the Bible. We had to assume at first that our new friend didn't know too much about the Bible or Jewish and Christian ideas. Brock explained about Passover, and how this evening was the first night of that holy day, and how it commemorated the Jews' exodus from Egypt. As Brock or I alternately explained and answered his questions, we noticed that Phil often repeated our answers and certain words we used, as if he were trying to memorise them. (Oh, I forgot to mention this important fact—Phil's command of English was almost perfect.) As time went on—and we occasionally took little breaks of silence—our new friend would sit up and turn to us with another question. Time passed, yet it didn't feel long at all for any of us.

It was finally dark outside (and dark in the cabin as well). The little monitor for watching movies had a map showing where the plane was. We were somewhere in the North Pacific off the Aleutian Islands. Our conversation had been going on for hours, but we weren't tired. We were very, very awake—all three of us. Brock turned to me, "Let's have our Passover now," and I reached down to my bible bag and pulled out the box of matzos. Then I reached up and turned on the reading light, and pulled the small New Testament out of the cigarette pocket in the sleeve of my jacket. Brock meanwhile dropped the tray open in front of him. We had emptied the grape juices out of his cargoes when we first sat down, and they were in the elastic pouches on the backs of the seats in front of us. I took the two out of mine, and Brock asked Phil if he would join us in breaking matzah and drinking juice as we observed the Passover together. "Can I really do it?" he asked, almost dumbfounded. "Of course you can," replied Brock, as he pulled another bottle of juice out of the seat pouch and placed it on the table close to Phil.

We were ready. Well, if all our talking and testifying on the trip hadn't disturbed anyone so far—not even the businessman to my left—I guess what we were about to do wouldn't either, although it might've raised some eyebrows if religious people were present.

Brock cited book and chapter, I found it in the New Testament, and Brock read the passages. First one, then another. These were the accounts of Jesus' last Passover with His disciples. (By now Phil already understood that we are followers of Jesus Christ, and that we also believe ourselves to be connected to Israel, as wild olive shoots are grafted onto the cultivated olive.) Brock also read some things in the epistles that related to partaking of the bread and wine. As he read the passages, we stopped, broke the matzos and ate them, drank the bottles of grape juice. Of course, we prayed also. All of this under the light of the reading lamp, using a drop-down table, and surrounded by strangers, not one of whom took any obvious notice of us. We weren't doing it for them, but for Him, for the Lord. "But even dogs can eat the crumbs that fall from their master's table…"

We finished reading scriptures, eating matzah and drinking juice, put the New Testament back in my pocket, and dropped the box of matzos into my bible bag. We turned the overhead light off. There was a peaceful silence.

The second half of a ten hour flight was still ahead of us. We rested sometimes, sometimes we talked. Something had changed. Phil was still asking questions, still repeating some of the answers, drinking it all in like a newborn infant. We learned a few more things about him too. Now we're entering a place that can't really be talked about, where people are becoming real, where the Spirit in us starts speaking things that words can't adequately express. We spent the entire remainder of that flight this way.

As the plane was coming in for a landing at Tokyo, we were jolted back to another reality—we were in Japan! We started saying our farewells early, and started promising each other to stay in touch. (That promise has been kept.) I had to give Phil something. I reached into my bible bag where I had seven or eight icon buttons pinned to an inside flap. They were for giving away as omiyage when I got to the Orthodox church in Nagoya. Only one would do for Phil. I gave him the icon button of the Pantokrator, the one that I usually wear. Someday, Phil would understand more, and know who this Man called Pantokrator is, and get to know Him, personally.

Phil, Brock and I exchanged cards and emails, and got ready to get off the plane and stand in some more lines, as we were cleared to get onto our connecting flight to Nagoya. We saw Phil a few more times, and then said our goodbyes for the last time. We were off to Nagoya!

Continued at…

First Night in Nagoya

Church fathers and councils

Yesterday, I spent an enjoyable evening with a good friend, discussing the Church fathers and the councils, particularly the proceedings by Cyril of Alexandria against Nestorius. Earlier that day I had read a blog article about a different Cyril, that of Jerusalem, who is one of the great fathers of the Church. I left a comment on that blog which I will use to conclude this post of mine. What we observed was that, thanks to the reports of eye-witnesses, we have a lot of historical documents telling us about the lives of early Church fathers, in addition to having their writings. It helps to know something about those times, as we reflect on what is happening in the Body of Christ at the present moment.

If we think that the Church has problems today, or that bad behavior is the specialty of contemporary Christian leaders, we should delve a bit into the past. On the other hand, if we tend to equate the ancient fathers with an idea of a “golden age” of Christianity, or think that their writings and opinions are to be held uncritically superior to ours, we should think again. C. S. Lewis observed that “we are still the early Christians.” Every Church father, just as every Christian pastor, teacher or writer, still has to be examined in the light of the scriptural Truth, which remains the source and measure of the Christian “tradition.”

We’ve heard, with unthinking amusement, of the incident at the Council of Nicæa where Nicholas, the bishop of Myra, slapped or punched the 80 year old presbyter Arius, whose teaching about the non-deity of Christ was the reason for calling the council. Supposedly he was placed under house arrest until some of the bishops had a common dream that made them release him and restore him to the Council. I read in another place that this story is found for the first time in a 14th century Latin manuscript. To me, that smacks of tale-spinning, as do many of the other tales told of the saints in West and East.

Be that as it may, violence, at least in speech, was not rare among some of the Church fathers. An excerpt from the authentic transcript of the Council of Chalcedon follows. The moment is that of the Imperial officers ordering that Theodoret, the bishop of Kars, should enter the assembly:

“And when the most reverend bishop Theodoret entered, the most reverend the bishops of Egypt, Illyria, and Palestine shouted out—‘Mercy upon us! The faith is destroyed! The canons of the Church excommunicate him! Turn him out! Turn out the teacher of Nestorius!’ On the other hand, the most reverend the bishops of the East, of Thrace, of Pontus, and of Asia, shouted out—‘We were compelled [at the former Council] to subscribe our names to blank papers! We were scourged into submission! Turn out the Manichæans! Turn out the enemies of Flavian! Turn out the adversaries of the faith!’ Dioscorus, the most reverend bishop of Alexandria said—‘Why is Cyril to be turned out? It is he whom Theodoret has condemned!’ The most reverend the bishops of the East shouted out—‘Turn out the murderer Dioscorus! Who knows not the deeds of Dioscorus?’ …The most reverend the bishops of Egypt, Illyria, and Palestine, shouted out—‘Long life to the Empress!’ The most reverend the bishops of the East shouted out—‘Turn out the murderers!’ The most reverend the bishops of Egypt shouted out—‘The Empress turned out Nestorius! Long life to the Catholic Empress! The Orthodox synod refuses to admit Theodoret!’

“Theodoret then being at last received by the Imperial officers, and taking his place, the most reverend bishops of the East shouted out—‘Axios! Axios! [He is worthy!]’ The most reverend the bishops of Egypt shouted out—‘Don’t call him a bishop! He is no bishop! Turn out the fighter against God! Turn out the Jew!’ The most reverend the bishops of the East shouted out—‘The Orthodox for the synod! Turn out the rebels! Turn out the murderers!’ The most reverend the bishops of Egypt—‘Turn out the enemy of God! Turn out the defamer of Christ! Long life to the Empress! Long life to the Emperor! Long life to the Catholic Emperor! Theodoret condemned Cyril! If we receive Theodoret, we excommunicate Cyril!’ At this point the Imperial commissioners who were present put a stop to the clamor, as unworthy a meeting of Christian bishops.”

It’s really ironic how these bishops are described repeatedly with the honorific ‘the most reverend,’ in view of their atrocious behavior. After reading this account, it’s easy to see that blood had a low boiling point in that era, even among shepherds of the flock. Admittedly, the Council of Chalcedon was one of the more violent ones, and most historians consider the 1st Council of Nicæa much more civil. Yet even there, what we have from letters written at the time, indicate that tempers flared.

And why not? The understanding of the content of the revelation of Jesus Christ, who He is, was at stake. Moreover, we are so far removed from that time that we can’t be sure, always, that we’re understanding what we read in those old books. Still, it does seem that many of the things that were debated, argued about, and even fought over back then have little bearing on the gospel, on the good news.

The following is the short comment I left on the blog of my brother in Christ, Andrew Kenny, who ministers in Northern Ireland. I think I’d like to repeat it as a concluding comment to the historical drama just quoted from the Council of Chalcedon.

It’s good that we look at what the Church fathers said and did, what they taught, how they lived, and how they died. They were people like us, living in a culture not really too unlike our own, facing very similar social and ethical challenges. To their glory they laid down the foundations of our common orthodox faith, to their shame they quibbled and sometimes nit-picked each other to death over trifles, or over speculations on divine things for which there was never any warrant in scripture.

The contemporary Orthodox Church sometimes idolizes them, even seems to put them above scripture, while quietly shuffling their misdeeds under the rug, but the fact is they were humans just like us, their squabbling no different than modern denominational disagreements, and yet, underneath it all, they had a common faith that they could have practiced in peace and love, had they put away the works of the flesh.

Yes, faith in God and in His Christ is one thing, and faith as a body of doctrine quite another, yet we use the same word for both. This has been largely responsible for the decline of Christianity throughout the ages, and especially now, when we are living not in a post-Christian age, but deservedly in a post-church one.

Church is people in Christ. We can institutionalise “church” just as church has institutionalized “faith.” We think we do this to preserve both, yet we do exactly the opposite.

Christianity is not and never was perpetuated by institutions, only by what C. S. Lewis so aptly called “good infection.” In our studies of the Bible and the Church fathers, we should never forget that it is only God and His Christ, Jesus, and what He has won for us, that matters.

Ephesians 1:17 ~ 2:20

May the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory,
give you a spirit of wisdom and perception of what is revealed,
to bring you to full knowledge of Him.

May He enlighten the eyes of your mind
so that you can see what hope His call holds for you,
what rich glories He has promised the saints will inherit
and how infinitely great is the power
that He has exercised for us believers.

This you can tell from the strength of His power at work in Christ,
when He used it to raise Him from the dead
and to make Him sit at His right hand, in heaven,
far above every Sovereignty, Authority, Power, or Domination,
or any other name that can be named,
not only in this age but also in the age to come.

He has put all things under His feet,
and made Him, as the Ruler of everything,
the Head of the Church, which is His Body,
the fullness of Him who fills the whole creation.

And you were dead,
through the crimes and sins in which you used to live
when you were following the way of this world,
obeying the ruler who governs the air,
the spirit who is at work in the rebellious.

We all were among them too in the past,
living sensual lives, ruled entirely by our own physical desires
and our own ideas, so that by nature
we were as much under God's anger as the rest of the world.

But God loved us with so much love
that He was generous with His mercy:
When we were dead through our sins,
He brought us to life with Christ—
it is through grace that you have been saved—
and raised us up with Him and gave us a place with Him
in heaven, in Christ Jesus.

This was to show for all ages to come,
through His goodness to us in Christ Jesus,
how infinitely rich He is in grace.

Because it is by grace that you have been saved, through faith;
not by anything of your own, but by a gift from God;
not by anything that you have done,
so that nobody can claim the credit.

We are God's work of art, created in Christ Jesus
to live the good life as from the beginning
He had meant us to live it.

Ephesians 1:17 - 2:10 Jerusalem Bible