You know, brothers and sisters, that our visit to you was not without results. We had previously suffered and been treated outrageously in Philippi, as you know, but with the help of our God we dared to tell you his gospel in the face of strong opposition. For the appeal we make does not spring from error or impure motives, nor are we trying to trick you. On the contrary, we speak as those approved by God to be entrusted with the gospel. We are not trying to please people but God, who tests our hearts. You know we never used flattery, nor did we put on a mask to cover up greed—God is our witness. We were not looking for praise from people, not from you or anyone else, even though as apostles of Christ we could have asserted our authority. Instead, we were like young children among you. Just as a nursing mother cares for her children, so we cared for you. Because we loved you so much, we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well.
(1 Thessalonians 2:1-8)
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So, what is it about the gospel? I began thinking about that when I read Paul's words about the opposition he had faced when he preached in Philippi. And I started to wonder: what is it about the gospel that stirs opposition? Some of it is passionate and violent opposition, some of it is contemptuous, some of it is sarcastic, some of it is just reflected in the gospel and its values being ignored. But what is it about the gospel that stirs any kind of opposition. Really. In some ways, it's kind of like opposing your mother. It really is. When I think of the gospel, I think of good news – which is what the word means; which is what Jesus came to offer. When I think of the gospel I think of words like love and hope and freedom from fear. What is there to oppose about any of that? And yet, from the very beginning, we've seen opposition to a message that at its most basic level should have people flocking to it – or at least so you'd think. Who would oppose the gospel? And yet, there's something about the gospel; something that stirs opposition, something that riles people up, something that sometimes gets them angry. From time to time I think about John Wesley's advice to the preachers he sent out to Methodist mission fields that I've probably mentioned before. He required that the preachers he sent out had to report back on a regular basis about the response they were getting to their message. His basic rule was that there had to be reports of either heartfelt conversions or angry opposition – because, Wesley believed, those were the only two sincere responses to the gospel that were possible. If the gospel was truly being preached, at least one of those two things had to be happening. Both would be best, but either was all right – because either reaction was the demonstration that the preaching of the gospel was having an effect. You see, it's not the preacher who has power – it's the word that the preacher preaches that has power.
James Howell was the minister of Myers Park United Methodist Church in Charlotte, North Carolina. A few years ago he wrote of something that happened shortly after he moved to Charlotte. from one of the northern states. The South is known as the Bible belt in the United States of course. He wrote that he was watching the local news one night shortly after his arrival, and the station was asking its viewers to vote on the most powerful preacher in Charlotte. They were given four options of well known local preachers, and they had to choose who was the most powerful. Howell said that he just shook his head in bewilderment. His view – and mine – was that none of these preachers had any power that was their own. The only power they had was through the word that hopefully lay behind their preaching. The simple reality is that the best “preachers” will have no effect if they aren't passionately committed to the word, but even those who don't speak well can have an impact if they are. Paul said himself that he wasn't a great speaker, but he touched more hearts with the gospel than perhaps anyone else in history – because it wasn't his speaking that touched people; it was the word he shared. There's something about the gospel. It's a powerful word. And it stirs a lot of opposition. And, as I said, I do wonder why. And – let's be honest – the opposition to the Gospel doesn't just come from outside the Christian faith. Sometimes it comes from inside the Christian faith, as some Christian people simply choose to turn their backs on what it asks of us. Someone wrote recently in an article I read that they found it interesting that so many Christians insist that the Creation story of Genesis has to be taken literally, but then they do nothing that suggests that they take Jesus' teachings in the Sermon on the Mount literally. Or, as G.K. Chesterton wrote many decades ago, “Christianity has not been tried and found lacking. It has been found difficult and left untried.” So, what is it about the Gospel that stirs such opposition from outside and even inside the Christian faith?
Perhaps it's because the gospel confronts us. Any time we engage the gospel we can't help but be reminded how far we are from what God, revealed in Jesus, wants us to be; how far removed we are from what humanity could be. I suspect that for the most part we like to look at ourselves and the world around us with rose coloured glasses. When we're confronted with reality the glasses come off. We saw an example of that after last week's attack in Ottawa. Those sorts of things happen elsewhere. We had convinced ourselves of that. Not here. Over there. To see something like that happen in our own midst, and in the midst of some of the most important symbols we have of our country and our values was uncomfortable, and even frightening. The gospel does that spiritually. It makes us see ourselves as we are – far removed from what God wants us to be. Not bad; not evil. Just not what God wants us to be. Not what we could be. People don't like being reminded of that. It makes us uncomfortable, and even perhaps frightened.
Perhaps it's because the gospel challenges us. If we're forced to recognize that we're not what God wants us to be and that we're not what we could be then we're challenged to become something other than what we are. Personal transformation is difficult. We are who we are for a whole variety of deeply ingrained reasons, and to be challenged to be transformed is hard. Transformed into what? I might not be all that God wants me to be or all that I could be – but darn it, I'm pretty good. And life's OK. And I'm a nice guy. Why do I need the challenge to be transformed? I'd really rather not be. But that's what the gospel does. Even something as simple and heartwarming from the mouth of Jesus as “become like little children” is a challenge to be transformed; to adopt a whole new way of seeing and approaching and engaging life. Maybe I like life the way it is. Maybe it's comfortable. Maybe it's just plain easier.
Perhaps it's because the gospel seeks to use us to change the world. That's threatening to Christians and non-Christians alike. To change the world I have to be pretty public about my faith and what I believe. I have to speak openly and from a Christian perspective about the various issues of the day. I have to be – gasp! - political at times and engage the institutions that control our society and the people who are engaged with them. If I try to change the system my fear is – I lose. And why would they want to change the world? gospel is pretty hard to sell to people who are comfortable and powerful because if the system is working for you, you generally have little interest in changing the system. If those who succeed under the system change the system, the fear is – they lose! Nobody wants to lose what they have. I remember the movie Rocky III, when Rocky Balboa was confronted by his wife about why he was giving up on the idea of a rematch with Clubber Lang who had just taken the title away from him. Why didn't he want to fight for it, Adrian wanted to know. “Because I don't wanna lose what I got!” he said to her. Changing the world by following the gospel means risking “what [we] got.”
There is something about the gospel. There really is. And it makes it hard for Christians to live it, and easy for non-Christians to reject it and even oppose it. But we have to live it. If we want to make the claim that we're disciples of Jesus – we have to live it, and we have to be willing to take the risks associated with living it. That takes courage – a courage that's related to confidence. But it's a confidence that's not so much about being right as it is with being comfortable in our own skin. It's a confidence that allows us to remain non-defensive when challenged, to listen respectfully to others recognizing that God may be speaking to us through them, a confidence that is not smug but generous, but also a confidence that's willing to speak its piece and stand up and be heard. As James Howell, whose experience in North Carolina I shared when I opened, wrote: “I think Peter and the Apostles would have been rather surprised at the concept that Christ had been scourged and beaten by soldiers, cursed and crowned with thorns and subjected to unutterable contempt and finally nailed to the cross and left to bleed to death in order that we might all become [blandly inoffensive.]”
There's something about the gospel. There really is. Be prepared to live it – and be prepared for the consequences. But also know that as you live it, God is with you – always!
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