Patience

Luke 15

Paul is dead, executed by the Romans. Peter is also dead, crucified upside down, also by Rome. Reading about this in your time, you may not feel much from these losses. You have the perspective of history, a history that seems to envelop us, in our time, in a deep sorrow. Because we, the followers of the Way in what you call the first century, we are devastated, wondering: what more can they do to harm our fragile faith?

Who am I? Just a follower, really, a slave in the household of a Roman master. I am a devout believer in Jesus Christ. But in secret. If my master knew, there is no telling how I might be punished. You see, owners of slaves have the power of life and death.

I and my fellow believers are struggling to process our grief. Yes, it’s true, Peter and Paul were outspoken leaders of our faith, and yes, it’s true that both of them had been imprisoned before, more than once. In fact, both of them continued to preach from inside their prison cells. But dead and gone? We were not prepared for that.

Who will take their place? Who will voice what we need to hear? Who will we look to for leadership? I can’t answer those questions, and perhaps you, looking on from so many years in the future, perhaps you know the answer. I wish you could, across the centuries, tell me that things will work out and that our faith will survive these terrible losses.

And as if the bad news of the death of these leaders wasn’t enough, we’ve also learned that Jerusalem is in ruins, destroyed by the Roman legions, the temple of God no more. It seems that the power of Rome is intent on crushing any and all opposition. It’s unstoppable. Who can stand against it? Will Rome rule forever? Even into your time?

I could go on. Most of the twelve apostles, the closest eyewitnesses to the life and teachings of Jesus, most of them have been martyred. Many of the infant Christian communities are struggling, and in Palestine, the Jewish religious leaders continue to persecute us.

But we understood that the end was near, close at hand. Didn’t we? Didn’t we believe that what we were suffering was to be short-lived? Yes, because Jesus was to return to reign on earth like the king he was always meant to be. We were told that Jesus would come back and make all things right. And we believed that his return would happen soon.

Were we wrong?

Peter wrote about this, and we believed him, confident in his prophecy:

The end of all things is near; therefore be serious and discipline yourselves for the sake of your prayers.  (1 Peter 4)

Paul did as well:

Besides this, you know what time it is, how it is already the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone; the day is near. (Romans 13)

For the Lord himself will descend from heaven with a cry of command, with the archangel’s call, and with the sound of the trumpet of God. And the dead in Christ will rise first; then we who are alive, who are left, shall be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air; and so we shall always be with the Lord.(1 Thessalonians 4)

It seems that these words have not yet been fulfilled and that we must wait longer.

And so, I must ask you, in your time, are you still waiting? Are you?

You may remind me about examples of waiting, how the pioneers of our faith were subject to God’s timing, not theirs. Abraham and Sarah waited for decades for the promised baby. It was the same for Elizabeth and Zachariah, the parents of John the Baptist. And of course, the Children of Israel suffered in slavery for hundreds of years before Moses led them out of Egypt.

Scripture tells us that God’s timing is not ours and that we must “wait for the Lord.” (Psalm 27)

But it’s hard. And discouraging. Where can we turn?

I don’t have an easy answer to that question. I really don’t. But I can share with you some thoughts, thoughts which bring hope to me and possibly, also to you.

I belong to a small community of believers, a group that meets in secret to worship. You, in your time, will call it a “house church” and so it is, meeting in the home of one of our freed slaves.

This group is more important to me than I can say. It’s a light in the darkness and I can’t imagine how weak my faith would be without it. We share everything, both tangible and intangible. And we strengthen the faith of any one of us who might be struggling. As I am just now.

One of our members, Lucius, is the person most responsible for bringing me into the fellowship. He’s a slave, like me, under the power of a very hard master, one who regularly abuses him.

But the faith of Lucius is strong and his encouragement means so much to me, especially when I see how he suffers on a daily basis.

We’ve talked about my disappointment and how it seems that our hopes for an imminent return of Jesus may not come to pass.

“It’s a test of our faith,” Lucius tells me. “Yes, we are being tested, just as our predecessors in the faith were tested.”

“And remember,” he went on, “remember how patient God has been with you.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He went on, “Remember how many years you heard about Jesus but did nothing about it? Remember how you seemed to hover on the fringes of faith, neither accepting nor rejecting, but seeming to just want a taste. Remember how long it was before you made a true commitment?

“Did God give up on you? Did God get so discouraged about you that He stopped reaching out to you?  Did God abandon you?”

“No,” I answered, “I suppose not. Perhaps I’ve been so concerned about the patience being asked of me that I didn’t consider God’s patience.”

Then, Lucius quoted a passage from scripture:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. (Lamentations 3)

And then, another, from a letter our fellowship recently received:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith, who for the sake of the joy that was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12)

Our conversation continued. “Do we really have a choice?” Lucius asked. “I mean, could our disappointment in God’s timing lead us to simply throw away the faith that we’ve been given? The loving fellowship that supports you and me and the others? Could you actually reject the gift that you’ve been given? The knowledge of Christ? The bond that you feel, both to Him and also to your brothers and sisters in the faith?

“Sure, we’re all disappointed,” he went on. “But do you remember the story that Jesus told about the father whose son rejected him?

“No,” I confessed, “I do not.”

“Let me refresh your memory. Here’s how it started:

Then Jesus said, “There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, ‘Father, give me the share of the wealth that will belong to me.’ So he divided his assets between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and traveled to a distant region, and there he squandered his wealth in dissolute living. (Luke 15)

“Yes, now I remember. The son left and went away, taking all that his father had given him, and never intending to return. So, what are you saying about the father?”

Return of the Prodigal Son

Rembrandt, 17th century

Lucius replied, “Yes, the father. Actually, the story isn’t about the son at all. It’s about the father. A father who gave everything to the son. A father who waited while the son literally threw it all away. A father who nevertheless continued to wait. And who never gave up waiting, until at last, he could see his son returning, and from far off, who ran to welcome him back into the family.

“That father is our father, don’t you see?”

“Perhaps,” he went on, “we must consider, not only the patience asked of us, but of God’s patience with us, his children. I can imagine Him, in heaven, waiting, just like we’re waiting. And what is God waiting for? Well, perhaps, just like the father in the story, perhaps our father is waiting for one more prodigal son to come home.

“Just one more. And then one more after that. And then another. Perhaps, in reality, God, in His infinite love for all of His children, perhaps He is waiting for us, all of us, to come home.

“Perhaps God is more patient than any of us can ever imagine.”