Space Enough, and Time

When it’s time to start talking about “life in the fifth act” with my students, I often use Hebrews 11-12 as my starting point (which is why it’s neat that the passage is the New Testament epistle reading for the first few days of the new year).  The chapter, which is all about living by faith, presents a long list of fallible people who lived their lives in a particular, seemingly invisible, direction.  By the time you get to the part where individuals are no longer named, you’ve been totally synched to the passage’s rhythm.

And what more shall I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets— who through faith conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. Women received back their dead by resurrection. Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two,[a] they were killed with the sword. They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated— of whom the world was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.

And all these, though commended through their faith, did not receive what was promised, since God had provided something better for us, that apart from us they should not be made perfect.

But the chapter’s end is not the story’s end by any stretch of the imagination.  With the first two verses of chapter twelve, we find that all followers of Jesus are part of the story.  And we have a better understanding of what is appropriate for us by seeing the secondary example of those who have gone before us and the primary example of the founder and perfecter of the our faith: Jesus.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.

Today’s daily office reading from Hebrews 11 captures one of my favorite snippets in what is an already-amazing chapter.  After talking about Abel and Noah, Abraham and Sarah, the writer digs in for a bit:

These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.

These ancients were commended for their faith.  They saw Someone who could not be seen.  They received much, but not the Thing that would last.  And for that, they were strangers and exiles, misfitted in the very place God made for His image-bearers to rule.  But a better country awaited them, a prepared city, a place to call home.

Today’s epistolary reading from the daily office is the first third of one of my favorite chapters from one of my favorite books: Hebrews 11.  The chapter finishes out over the rest of the week.  The chapter rings loudly, even after the rousing commands of chapter 10 to draw near, hold fast, and consider key aspects of the Christian life and story.  Chapter 11, of course, focuses on faith.

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. For by it the people of old received their commendation. By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible.

Faith is vital to the Christian life but tricky in its translation to those outside of church.  It is not simply hope (as good as hope is).  It is an assurance of things hoped for.  It is not pie-in-the-sky wishful thinking.  It is a conviction concerning things we cannot see.  And because of faith, “the people of old received their commendation.”  Most of the remaining chapter points us to those ancient people, commended in spite of their faults and failures.

Nestled in between Abel and Enoch and Noah we find a potent promise concerning faith, particularly in light of Enoch:

. . . without faith it is impossible to please him, for whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.

Someone recently asked me how they could grow in their relationship with God.  I encouraged the friend to go for some long walks and talk to God as if He was walking along with him.  True: God is walking along with him.  But it is also an act of faith to believe it when you cannot see it.

Today’s reading ended with Abraham and Sarah.  And with that reminder comes the nudge that faith isn’t just about achieving your personal best, about having grit, about some kind of individual empowerment.  Instead, it is faith in the context of a purposeful story, a history going somewhere.  Abraham was

looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God.

That becomes a thread that takes center stage in tomorrow’s reading.

This morning’s routine was thrown out of whack because of the holiday.  God bless the good folks at Zippy’s for putting up with people like me early each Sunday.  Instead, I had a quick breakfast at Starbucks before heading to church.

I spent some time writing and thinking about the new year.  I was greatly encouraged by the Epistle reading from the daily office.  From Colossians 2 (ESV):

Therefore, as you received Christ Jesus the Lord, so walk in him, rooted and built up in him and established in the faith, just as you were taught, abounding in thanksgiving.

See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits[a] of the world, and not according to Christ. For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority.  In him also you were circumcised with a circumcision made without hands, by putting off the body of the flesh, by the circumcision of Christ, having been buried with him in baptism, in which you were also raised with him through faith in the powerful working of God, who raised him from the dead.

This passage is, of course, Christmas-y, and points to the incarnation (“for in him the whole fullness of deity swells bodily).  It also points to a fifth-act reality for the Christian: that we “have been filled in him,” which is an odd phrase that the NIV renders “and in Christ you have been brought to fullness,” which reads a little easier.  Along with that, we who have received Him are to “walk in him,” should be “rooted and built up in him and established in the faith.”  “Rooted” and “built up” are two good images to start the new year and to keep in mind during Christmastide.  Paul encouraged the Colossian Christians to do this “as [they] were taught” all the while “abounding in thanksgiving.”

A fifth act life is one of avoiding capture from philosophies and ideas not rooted in the truth of Jesus.  For those on the outside, this might look like a command to ignorance, which isn’t true at all.  It doesn’t mean we cease seeking understanding or stop pursuing engagement with those who think differently.  It does mean, I think, that Christians start with what (and Who) they know.

(image from WFUV.org)