Dear John

Dear John letters are break-up letters. Finding traction during World War II, when the most popular male name was John, too many servicemen received such letters from the ones who vowed fidelity to them. The greeting was all the man needed to read before he knew the content of the letter. Instead of being greeted by “My darling,” or “My sweetie,” or whatever nickname was used, the formality of reading “Dear John” was all the man needed to know that what was coming next wasn’t good. With enough letters making the rounds, filling in the plot-holes was an easy step to make. “I was lonely. He was here, when you weren’t. We’re getting married.” Whatever the details are, when the words “Dear John” appear at the front of a letter, the recipient is fixin’ to get dumped.  

Long distance relationships are hard to manage. Distance may allow the heart to grow fonder, but the isolation and loneliness wants companionship to fill the void. My wife and I dated much of our two years while I was attending college in Arkansas and she was working in Middle-Tennessee. We wrote letters to each other, reserving phone calls for the weekends when the rates were their lowest. And for the all the letters we wrote – letters written in the mid-eighties still preserved in boxes in our garage – no temptation arose to write the “Dear John” letter. Dating from afar is hard and tests your metal. Somehow, we came through it.

Today’s use of long-distance relationship is eased because of the affordable access of phone calling, texting, and FaceTime. Though technology helps bridge the gap, nothing can replace holding hands, hugging, gazing into one another’s eyes, and experiencing the gentle kiss. Besides, some conversations must be had in person, and “Dear John” letters should be avoided.

Paul could have written a “Dear John” letter to the Corinthians. He could have. They wanted a break-up. He was absent and accused of breaking a promise to visit them (1:15-17). Gushing over what they believed to be better leadership for the church, they were enamored with perceived success stories like letters of recommendation, oratory skills, and charisma. With Hank Williams playing in the background, they were slow dancing to the song, “Your Cheatin’ Heart.” Paul could have written a “Dear John” letter to the Corinthians. He could have, but he didn’t. Instead, he held out hope for reconciliation.

Following the standard letter writing structure of the first century Graco-Roman world, Paul composes his epistle in the vein of such correspondence. Ancient letters included identification of sender and recipient, a greeting, a thanksgiving or prayer section, the body of the letter, and final greetings. All of which is found in the Pauline epistles.

Paul identifies himself as “. . . an apostle of Christ Jesus by the will of God” (1:1). While two thousand years of church history has blunted the statement as a no-brainer cast-off, that opening phrase makes a bee-line to the issue at hand. The Corinthians are questioning Paul’s leadership, which would include his calling as an apostle of God. Paul not only states his title and role, but also reinforces that his apostleship and all his so-called “perceived weaknesses” is by the will of God. Paul’s inuendo is that Corinth is not just rejecting Paul, they are rejecting God’s ordained apostle. They are rejecting God and his gospel.

The recipients of the letter are not just those in Corinth but all the saints in Achaia. Known as a regional letter, Paul is addressing a crisis hardly contained in one place, but one that has spread from the city church in Corinth to the entire region.

Some might call on Paul to dump them, to write the “Dear John” letter, to break up with the church – he certainly had just cause. Instead, he writes a love letter. He does so by showing his cards in the greeting section of the letter found in verse 2. He drops two words, typical in most of his writings, in which the subtle and nuanced message and meaning are all but lost in translation and over time.

The first word is grace. In the Graco-Roman world, when someone wrote the greeting to a letter, they used the word charein, which simply means, “hi.” We do the same or something similar in our letters today. We say “hi” or “hello there,” or even more casual, “What’s up?” My high school English teacher was often dramatic in her speech and would address people with a huge smile and boisterous, “Greetings and Salutations!”

Paul, on the other hand, baptized the formal greeting with a pun by substituting charein for charis, which we know is “grace.” So, instead of saying “Hi,” he says, “Grace.” Sounds beautiful, doesn’t it? By wrapping his greeting in grace he is rooting their lives, and this letter, in the love that God has for all of mankind. Everything, in life and in church, is surrounded by God’s infinite grace.

The second word he drops is peace. The Jewish word for peace was shalom and was the standard greeting in writing in everyday conversation. While Paul uses the Greek form in his letters, the rich meaning of shalom is behind the Greek. Offering shalom to someone is offering peace that is beyond the common conflict encountered every day. The peace that Paul, and his fellow Jews, offered was a peace that found its origin in God himself which then flowed over into their lives. When one is at peace with God, one can find peace in any circumstance or relationship.

“Grace and peace” was the normal greeting Paul offered to churches. When Paul wrote letters, he was dealing with a church conflict and the offering of grace and peace at the beginning of the letters he helped lay the foundation for what he hoped to accomplish in the letter itself. Mainly, Paul was leading them through their conflict to find a resolution. For the Corinthians and the church of Achaia, offering grace and peace was Paul’s means to avoid writing the dreaded “Dear John” letter.

For the past couple of years, a comic has circled around social media showing Paul sitting at a table writing a letter. The look of exasperation is all over his face as he writes, “To the church in America . . . I don’t even know where to begin.” The comic appeals to our sense that something is wrong with American churches, even if we can’t agree on the exact nature of the problem. The comic leaves us feeling like this is Paul’s last chance at redeeming the church in America before writing his “Dear John” letter. It does leave one to wonder how the church can be redeemed.

A friend of mine shared a story about a preacher who was pastoring a church. The board wanted to move forward with a building project. They needed new classrooms and an area for fellowship meals and receptions. The preacher opposed the construction, believing instead to focus on building up the people. He was convinced that discipleship should overrule the felt need of a building project. Despite his warning, the board ignored his plea and wanted to move forward with a church-wide vote. They brought the matter to the church and began deliberations. The board outlined their vision, the cost, and more importantly, how they could build most of it themselves, which would save on long term cost. They had the manpower of carpentry, plumbing, and electrical workers to complete the project and keep the costs reasonable. The preacher still opposed the move and made his case that the kind of building needed at their church was spiritual in nature. The church voted against the preacher and for the building project.

If you were the preacher, what would do? You have strong values, beliefs and a sense of what is right and wrong. Your insights are rejected, and your vision for the church is now clouded with a heavy fog has settled that may never lift. What do you do? You write your “Dear John” letter and break up with the church. You explain that if the church will not heed the voice of their pastor, then the church needs to find another voice. Make sure you let them down gently, but you let them down.

On the Saturday morning when that church broke ground on the new addition, the first person at the site was the preacher. He was wearing his work clothes, his tool belt, and gloves. When the members saw him, they marveled at him, wondering, “Why are you here? You were opposed to this building project.”

The preacher, never entertaining the thought of a “Dear John” letter, and in seeking peace and grace amidst the congregation, replied. “I am a member and part of this congregation.” And laying aside his ego, he continued, “I will do everything I can for my church.” It’s no wonder that he stayed at that church for thirty years.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e., only God is glorified!)

Gilligan’s Island: to the Tune of Amazing Grace

On Sunday afternoon, Cile and I sat on the couch and absorbed the three hour tour of Gilligan’s Island. We were both tired. I was recovering from a twenty-four hour bug, but wasn’t sleepy. She slept. I stayed awake. I watched four of the six episodes and pretty much knew each storyline and joke before the cast members experienced them.

One has to suspend a lot of reality to embrace the show, but it’s worth it. How can one person like Gilligan make so many mistakes without being exiled? How come the professor can create so many inventions and never be able to get them rescued? For a three hour tour, how come the Howells packed so much luggage and money? What did Ginger need with an evening gown? How come their clothes were always clean? How good are the AM radio waves and how long do batteries last? How do you make banana cream pie without the necessary ingredients and an oven?

As I was watching the shows unfold before me, I realized two important aspects of humanity that were continually fleshed out in the show. 

First, Man at His Best. The seven castaways come together to survive, and even thrive on their island. Leadership is provided by the Skipper and Professor, though clearly they seek input from the other five castaways. You don’t usually see them making decisions from selfish motives, but always for the good of the group’s survival and rescue.

None of that is to say that they were an idyllic society. They struggled with situations and with each other. Conflict was a normal part of their lives as danger lurked and/or feelings got hurt. But the group could not survive without the individual, and the individual couldn’t survive without the group. So when conflict arose, reconciliation was always woven into the solution. Let’s face the facts, it was a TV show and conflict is a key component of keeping the viewer’s attention. And, the writers needed a reset button to film the next week’s episode, so the conflict was resolved by the end of the show. That said, the lesson taught was valuable: we need each other to survive.

Secondly, Man is Bad. In the realm of suspending belief, they found themselves on a deserted island not located on any map. Yet visitors upon visitors stumble upon the island, because it’s not found on a map? A famous hunter, an actor pretending to be “Tarzan,” a knock-off Beatles and Monkeys rock band, The Mosquitos, and multiple others appear on the show. The rise of hope is felt and they believe the new visitor will contact authorities to have the castaways rescued. But they never do. The visitors usually have a deep dark secret and are afraid it will be exposed and ruin their own lives. So selfishly, and in the spirit of self-preservation, they keep the castaways and island a secret. They move on with their life, while the castaways are “condemned” to their prison.

The Bible continues to paint mankind with both brushes, a little bit of good and quite a bit of bad. Paul quotes that Psalmist to reinforce the depravity of mankind, “There is no one righteous, not even one” (Rom. 3:10). At our very best, we have mixed agendas and shades of evil. We may be giving, but too many times it comes with strings attached. No one stands before God in all purity, because we’re tainted in sin. On the other hand, the Bible speaks highly of good people like Cornelius who generously cares for the poor (Act. 10:2) or Tabitha who is described as “always doing good and helping the poor” (Act. 9:36). But even at our best, we still need a Savior to redeem us from our own sin.

So here we are a mixture of something good and something bad. Sometimes the good in us shines very bright and sometimes it doesn’t. Other times the bad in us overpowers the good and what we experience causes shame. Maybe the hope is found in accepting, embracing and owning God’s grace. After all, the theme song to Gilligan’s Island can be sung to the tune of Amazing Grace.

 Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is glorified!)

GOD: When All the World Is a Stage

I once had a friend who was a nationally elite wrestler and with Olympic caliber talent. His junior year, he was ranked number one in the nation and was picked to win the national title for his weight division. He lost. Over the summer he found Jesus, was baptized, and began going public with his faith. He talked about renewed strength and sharing his faith with anyone who might listen, including the news media. When he entered his final season as a senior, he was again ranked number one in the nation, and with his renewed faith, he believed his future was secure. Once again, he lost, dragging him into a crisis of faith. He had a stage to bring glory to God, and the stage was taken from him. Why wouldn’t God endorse his win in order to receive the glory for it?

A couple of weeks ago the Philadelphia Eagles won their first Superbowl. Heading into the big game, reports surfaced that Nick Foles was a man of faith, that the Eagles conducted regular Bible studies, and videos surfaced of members of the team participating in baptisms. They had a stage to bring glory to God, and the stage was elevated during and following their championship win.

Tim Tebow was the evangelical/Christian hero. Born to missionary parents, he was given a gift for football and a powerfully vocal faith in Jesus. Written on his Eye Black was his favorite verse for the day, and often it was John 3:16. Every touchdown he made was immediately followed by a prayer on his knee. What is amazing is that the quality of Tim Tebow’s character should have made him the perfect candidate for God to place him on the largest stage. Yet many wonder why God allowed that stage to allude him?

Wednesday an American Icon passed away. He was given the largest stage when he preached to thousands upon thousands (if not to millions) of people. He sat with every sitting president since Truman. He was never caught up in a moral or ethical scandal, though he did compromise himself with President Nixon (he did beg the Jewish community forgiveness). He was born for the big stage and he lived his life to glory God on that stage.

We’ve convinced ourselves that the successful athlete, business man, politician, or performer, author – who is also a Christian – is the one God uses to make the biggest impact for the kingdom. We believe that the best advertisement for God is to market the Christian who is defined by success based on our terms: status, wealth, appearance, charisma, etc.

Somehow, God sees things a little differently. On the worlds’ biggest staged he placed a cross.

In the process of calling Saul (Acts 9), God had a conversation with Ananias. God wanted Ananias to meet with Saul to restore his sight. Ananias was a little fearful since Saul had been persecuting the church. But God reassured Ananias, and among the information given to Ananias comes this little line, “I will show him (i.e. Saul/Paul) how much he must suffer for my name.” God was going to put Saul on the biggest stage and show the world how much he had to suffer for Jesus.

Second Corinthians is essentially Paul’s argument that the greatest stage God can give someone is the stage where their weakness is exposed and they suffer the most. So Paul records his “Affliction Lists” (4:8-10; 6:3-10; 11:23-29), saying that God does his greatest work through our suffering. The strength that Paul experiences is not the ability to avoid walking outside the realm of suffering, but the strength to endure the very heart of suffering because God empowers him (4:7). For it is through our weaknesses, not our strengths, that Christ’s power is made perfect in us (12:8-10).

So maybe we’ve got the stage thing all wrong. Maybe those on the big stage can’t always be trusted with the spotlight; how many people, we’ve propped up, have “fallen” off the big stage? Maybe the suffering stage keeps us closer to the cross. Maybe the suffering stage gives God greater glory, for the power to endure hardships clearly comes from God not from within. Maybe the church should start questioning who we’ve decided to prop up onto the stage, and why we’ve chosen them. Instead, maybe we should look for the ones who’ve modeled faithful endurance in the face of suffering, because they are more likely the ones God wants on stage.

Soli Deo Gloria!
(i.e. only God is Glorified!)