1 Peter 4: 12-19 (links validated 4/28/26a)

I’ve begun to wonder if Christians might more seriously think of our naturally sinful condition as a kind of addiction. Of course, not all addictions are sinful. But sin is naturally addictive. So might Christians benefit from thinking about sin in the way some 12-step programs invite their participants to think about addiction? Among Alcoholics Anonymous twelve principles are the first step that is admitting our powerlessness over that to which we’re addicted. The second step is trust that a power greater than oneself can restore people who are addicted. The third step involves the faith that is the decision to turn over our lives and will to that higher power. One doesn’t have to squint very hard to see how Jesus’ followers might apply that to our naturally sinful selves. We begin by admitting that by nature we’re powerless to resist the devil and stand firm in our faith. But the Spirit also convinces us that God can graciously restore, as well as make us firm and strong.

Alan Paton’s Cry, the Beloved Country’s Stephen Kumalo is a humble and devout pastor in a rural South African community. He tells a friend about the fate of a young woman who’d grown up in their village but basically disappeared after moving to Johannesburg. The friend responds, “I have never thought that a Christian would be free of suffering, umfundisi. For our Lord suffered. And I’ve come to believe that he suffered, not to save us from suffering, but to teach us how to bear suffering. For he knew that there is no life without suffering (italics added).”

Eliza Griswold tells the story of James Movel Wuye, a Nigerian pastor who works alongside Imam Muhammad Nurayan Ashafa to change the way Christians and Muslims view each other. In the late 20th century each taught thousands of their young followers to resist Satan by killing each other. The imam’s followers even chopped off Pastor Wuye’s arm. But now Imam Ashafa and Pastor Wuye teach young people to respect each other’s differences. They both remain deeply committed to their respective faiths. Imam Ashafa even says, “I want James to die as a Muslim, and he wants me to die as a Christian.” Yet they’re respectful partners in cultivating a deeper unity among Nigerian youth of all religions.

Stories of the fairy tale variety begin with “Once upon a time . . .” and often end with “And they lived happily ever after.” Many times looking for a “happily ever after” ending for the history of the world seems too good to be true, too much to wish for. But as Frederick Buechner once pointed out, somewhere in the history of the universe there needs to be one fairy tale that will finally come true. We believe the gospel is just that story. Because in the end, the larger story we tell and into whose narrative we invite all others is a story that is too good not to be true...

Lament For a Son, is Nicholas Wolterstorff's diary, written as he grieved the loss of his son. Over the year that the book chronicles, Nicholas alternated between pain and numbness; between acceptance of his situation and rejection of reality; and between rage and despondence. He is a man of immense faith, and he deeply questioned why God would allow this tragedy to happen. Nicholas quoted Rabbi Kushner, who has posited that God suffers with us when we suffer. But that quasi-explanation did not do it for this grieving father. He says, I cannot fit it all together by saying, ‘(God) did it,' but neither can I do so by saying, ‘There was nothing (God) could do about it.' I cannot fit it together at all. I can only, with Job (the Biblical character of such suffering) endure. I do not know why God did not prevent Eric's death. To live without the answer is precarious. It's hard to keep one's footing. … I have no explanation. I can do nothing else than endure in the face of this deepest and most painful of mysteries. I believe in God the Father Almighty, maker of heaven and earth and resurrecter of Jesus Christ. I also believe that my son's life was cut off in its prime. I cannot fit these pieces together. I am at a loss. … To the most agonized question I have ever asked I do not know the answer. I cannot even guess (why). .. The wounds of all humanity are an unanswered question."...

When missionary teacher Ben Wier was imprisoned by Shiite militants in Lebanon, he reported that one of his chief comforts during those dreary months of captivity was to take a saved bit of his weekly bread ration, and on Sundays, in his solitary cell, break and eat it while remembering that Christian brothers and sisters all over the world were doing the same as they celebrated the Lord's Supper. The knowledge that others celebrate with the same Lord overcomes fear, reminds us that our trials are temporary, that we may call at will on the power of One who is eternal...

During the War of 1812 a British warship arrived in Massachusetts to send five boats full of soldiers to take an undefended town. The commander on the warship knew that their success depended on the town's lack of preparation. As his boats drew near to land they heard a fife and drum on shore. Everyone knew that a fife and drum were used to rally a local militia. Cursing his luck, the commander called back the boats and the warship sailed away. In fact, there had been no militia, just two young daughters of the lighthouse keeper playing fife and drum. The rest of the townfolk had fled in the night. A roaring lion may look like an unbeatable adversary, but the memory of a loving fellowship can provide enough foundation to sustain us, to "establish" us in our faith.

Some years ago our family visited Delft in Holland. There we toured the porcelain factory which makes the famous blue and white delftware. We saw a young woman making a vase. It was not blue and white but a muddy, gray-brown-not lovely at all. But then we saw how it was fired under tremendous heat. When the vase came out of the kiln, it was the cobalt blue and lustrous white that we think of when we hear the word Delft. The vase was the same but it needed the heat of the firing to bring out its beauty. It is much the same with us. Somehow the fiery ordeal of suffering is God's plan to test and prove us and make us fit for God's Kingdom...

Steven Covey retells a story that has become a classic parable in the world of business management. A consultant placed a gallon jar and a collection of rather large rocks on a table. He asked the seminar participants, “How many rocks will fit into the jar?” After they all made their best guess he placed the rocks, one by one into the jar until it was full. Then he asked is the jar full? Everybody looked at the jar and said yes. Then the consultant pulled out a bucket of gravel, poured it on top of the rocks, shaking it until the gravel filled the smaller spaces left by the rocks. Again the consultant asked, “Is the jar now full?” Wary of answering incorrectly the group members responded, “Probably not!” Delighted to see that the managers were learning the consultant pulled out a bucket of sand and poured that into the jar. Again the consultant asked if the jar was full. “No” roared the group and again the consultant grabbed a bucket of water and poured nearly a quart of water into the pail..

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