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identity

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A life lost for a life gained

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Some passages in the Bible are downright obscure. Some others are understood readily enough, but stop making sense when you start poking them around. But generally, that poking around is worth it because those verses point to deeper truths relevant to larger swathes of our identity. In Luke 17, we find such a passage:

Whoever tries to keep their life will lose it, and whoever loses their life will preserve it.

Luke 17:33 (NIV)

newlife

Photo: Pepsiline, under CC License

Once you’ve got your head around the apparent contradiction that keeping implies not keeping and conversely, it seems easy enough – especially in the context of the story of Lot: it is impossible to hold on to our earthly selves, we do not have the strength to do so ourselves, etc.

All this is true, but it only covers the first part of that verse. If we try to keep our life, we will lose it, probably by chasing after too many idols. But what about the second part?

Whoever  loses their life will preserve it.

The easy answer is to say that in dying to our old selves, we are new creations and gain eternal life. This spiritual death and rebirth, surely, is what Jesus is talking about. It is true that we are new creations, dead to our previous selves. But here, Jesus makes a bolder claim. He doesn’t say that “Whoever loses their life will have eternal life” or that “Whoever loses their life will gain a new life”, he says that the same life that we had will remain ours.

How can that be so? How can we be new creations and preserve our life? The  story told earlier in the chapter illustrates this. Jesus is at the border between Samaria and Galilee and sees ten lepers – that’s the only way in which they are described. Leprosy is uncleanness; sinfulness even. Then Jesus heals them, and only one of them comes back and we hear at that stage only that he was a Samaritan.

Rid of the uncleanness, rid of the sinfulness, the Samaritan’s true identity can live and breathe. The other ones who did not come back to thank Jesus are probably considered simply ex-lepers, seen as what they are not. Their identity is defined by their sin, albeit negatively.

Let us grasp this: the new creation that we become when we stop trying to grasp our identity is the continuity of our identity. Rid of the uncleanness, but still deeply and fundamentally us. The difference between Greek and Jew, or between any other identities we had before turning to Christ, is worth nothing because we are in Christ: we have lost our drive to grasp it; but those identities are still part of us. Only sin is gone.

This means that the new creations that we are should not discard or reject the old selves, because they are part of who we are. On the contrary, we should accept them as part of our identities, rejecting only the leprosy. Born again, yes, but the new  life is in the continuity of the old life.

A New Chapter

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In many British universities, this week sees the arrival of young impressionable students. For them, sixth form is over and a new life is about to start. International students are about to live a whole lot of new experiences, meet new people. For some of them, it’s just a bracket – an exchange year which is intercalated within their normal degree. A pause of sorts.

Less than a month ago, it was my life that saw what many could term the beginning of a new chapter. I moved from England to the Parisian suburbs, stopped being a student and started teaching. Well, technically, I’m still a student until my final exams, and I only just finished writing the thesis, but let’s not nitpick.

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Photo: Brian0918, under CC liicense

Such changes happen all the time. You might be getting a mortgage for a new house, and close the chapter of your tenant years. You might be expecting a child, or getting married, or moving to a new job. It feels like the old you dies and a new you is ready to take his place. And when you like the old you, you don’t want to let go. I didn’t want to let go.

But here’s the thing: if you’re a Christian, you should not see it as the end of an era. It is not the death of the old you. Here’s why:

  • your identity is not in what you were doing in the old chapter. Your identity is in Christ, and everything else is rubbish compared to that. Are you so insecure in your Christian identity that you think it can die?
  • while we’re on the subject of death to your old self: this is true. You died to your old self, and are now living as a new creation. Are you willing to compare your change of circumstances to your coming to faith?
  • don’t you understand you have everlasting life? If you think of that merely in biological terms, you are missing the point. It is you – it is I – who live forever. Your likes and dislikes. My personality. All turned towards Christ.
  • and even if you feel you can’t hold on to that identity, well, you’re right. You can’t. But God does, and He has called you by name. That identity can never die.

And on top of that, you are taking with you all your experience from the chapter you thought was over. It’s not. Right now, is its continuation. Sure, there are friends you’ll slowly get out of touch with, and your circumstances have changed. But your actions build on your experience. If you think you are turning over a completely new leaf, you are forgetting yourself… and you are paving the way for doing the same thing with your current circumstances: making them useless and unattached to you.

Just don’t. And remember: seasons follow each other, they don’t happen in random order; and there is a season for everything.

A new temple

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Our bodies are temples. I’ve heard that many times, more often than not to tell me off for eating unhealthy food, or self-righteously from people abstaining from caffeine, alcohol or other substances; or even for those encouraging me to exercise more. Let me be clear here: healthy food is good. Exercise (in moderation) is good. Abstention from caffeine is only good when the beverage concerned is coffee. But not because our bodies are temples and should therefore receive due reverence.

After all, it is not what comes into man that defiles him, but what comes out of it. In a time where the self-righteous were those following the letter of the Mosaic Law, this means pork does not defile you! In a time where the self-righteous are those who have healthy habits, this means that unhealthy food does not defile us. Not even the new temple that our bodies are.

temple

Photo: Ian Scott, reused under CC license

So what does it mean that our bodies are new temples?

  • They are a meeting place with God. The body is not our enemy. Samuel heard the call from God inside the temple; it can be much the same with our bodies. It isn’t the exclusive place to meet with God, though: Elijah heard God in a mountain.
  • They are the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit. Let me stress that: our bodies – not our spirits, our souls, our minds, or whatever other airy thing we could come up with – our bodies are the dwelling place of the Holy Spirit. The presence here is physical, tangible and all-encompassing. It is an awesome thing that the Holy Spirit is worldily present – not just someone we can pray through and who dwells in heaven, disconnected from us.
  • They should be listened to. Tiredness is not unnatural. When our bodies fail, or are in disrepair, resources should be allocated to mend them. Rest. It is quite puzzling how a principle established at the very start of the Bible leads us to feel so much guilt sometimes; but resting is good.
  • It is cause for celebration! There’s no need to go to the temple to pray or to meet with God, it can happen right here. Our bodies cannot be taken away from us; much less the Spirit. Wherever we are, we can be constantly renewed, directed and sanctified by this presence.
  • Much like the temple was destroyed and its riches taken away to Babylon, we can do the same with our physical selves: waste away our gifts chasing some idol or other. We can use all our strength chasing some job, some situation. Yes, our talents will be employed in such cases, and yes, they will adorn what we do – but this is not what they were meant for. And just like it was for the temple in Jerusalem, those riches can be brought back.
  • Our bodies are dedicated to God. Not just our mind, not just our finance – our entire body. Their function is to serve, through our every move, God. It is part of their very nature.
  • They were designed according to specific plans. We, in our bodily form, are designed to reflect God’s glory.
  • They are what makes us holy! Ascetism might be what some of us are called to, but denying the body because it, somehow, is the source of all evil, is denying a large part of our own calling and blessed nature. In doing so, we fail to take hold of our role as a royal priesthood: without a temple, there can be no priesthood.

I’m not sure that’s the point the Apostle was trying to make. The context is one of sexual immorality and makes it very clear that it is only sexual immorality that can defile the new temple. So it is also clear that it is not about what we eat or how much we exercise. But taking hold of the idea that our bodies are temples, the dwelling places of the Holy Spirit – something which the Apostle seemed to be taking as read – leads to all that I said above.

So celebrate your body, regardless of over-, under- or just-the-right-weight, regardless of its current ailments. If you see it as the temple for the Holy Spirit, there is simply no way not to!

The guilt of the secular worker

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I’ve heard this many times: being a Christian is an all-encompassing calling which takes precedence over everything. I’ve preached this message, too. The message sometimes becomes a slogan:

  • Church is not just for Sunday.
  • You should join a small group.
  • Too busy to pray? Too busy NOT to pray, more likely.
  • Preach the gospel in your workplace.
  • Jesus wants your everything – not just when you have time for it.

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The list could go on. And all of these things are true: if your Christian identity is restricted to attending a church service on a Sunday, then maybe you’re missing the point. But let’s take that very notion further: being Christian is not simply about attending church. It’s not simply about attending church activities throughout the week either. Of course, small groups are helpful. Prayer meetings are helpful. Evangelism in the workplace is helpful. Yes, a thousand times yes. But church and church activities are not the only way in which this can happen. Explicit, intentional action is not the only way in which evangelism can happen.

And I know that the people who express the all-encompassing nature of the calling to be a Christian in the ways I described above mean well, but we often fail to consider how it can be perceived:

  • You’re not a proper Christian if you only go to church stuff on a Sunday
  • You’re not in a small group? Clearly you have no desire to grow your faith.
  • Too busy to come to our weekly prayer meeting? Sort out your priorities!
  • Actively evangelise at every single opportunity. If what you’re saying is not linked to the Gospel, it must be that you are ashamed of your faith.
  • So you don’t have time to take on admin for church/prepare intercession/lead the worship this week? Come on, surely church is more important than whatever else you’ve got to do!

Of course we don’t mean this – or at least I hope we don’t! But the problem is: we generally say these things in a church context, and so all the expressions of our Christian identity get linked with church activities. Thereby, the secular worker may feel their job is worth less than anything they may contribute to the church.

But callings are not just callings to the ministry. People get called to secular jobs! Or to build a family! And there is a reason for that; if your job or your family needs your attention, neglecting either of those in favour of church activities would be denying your own calling! If you are choosing church activities – even outside of Sunday – over your calling, you are paying lip service to the lie that Christianity only happens in church or intentionally!

So feel free to say no to extra church stuff without guilt. Because in saying no to church stuff, you might well be saying yes to what God has called you to; and that is submission to His will. That is an expression of Christian identity. And that identity will pervade in many, many different ways – your own form of prayer. Your own evangelism – perhaps through simple acts of service. Your own leadership. All of them held together by love.

Simply being

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Catholics and Protestants differ on a variety of points; and on the relative importance of these points. To a Catholic, the sacrament of the Eucharist is primordial, but a Protestant can easily have communion once a month, if that. To a Protestant, there is a wealth of Catholic doctrines that sound heretical; but I suspect that stuff like the Immaculate Conception is about as abhorrent to most Protestants as an Arminian point of view is to Calvinists: in short, there are disagreements, but not to the point of considering the other non-Christian.

simplybeing

Photo: Andrea Schaffer, re-used under CC license

There is, however, one particular difference around which passions are unleashed. Protestants tend to be adamant about sola fide, salvation through faith alone, at the exclusion of works before and after conversion; whereas Catholics would tend to argue that works after conversion are a way unto salvation (1). And yet Protestants and Catholics alike agree on the good nature of works, and on their necessity after conversion: after all, faith without works is dead.

Works are an expression of an identity

I see works after faith as an expression of a new identity: one of a people redeemed and unconditionally loved, with a drive to serve God and neighbour. If it is the expression of an identity, then, it is not a karma-like tally of good versus bad deeds, where grace might be so diminished to prevent salvation or increased to the point of making the cross unnecessary.

Seeing works as the expression of my identity as Christians has a few implications:

1. Firstly, an identity is a pervasive element. It is permanently active, and these works do not happen at pre-determined times. Being a Christian is not a Sunday-only thing; but far more than that, it’s not a Sunday and midweek church/Christian Union-only thing. It is rather unsurprising, then, that we are told to pray at all times.

2. Secondly, an identity has an arguably predominant interactive element. The way in which it is displayed depends on who is around us. It doesn’t mean being two-faced about what we say depending on our entourage, but it does mean that we should adapt our action to those around us. Not just in style (although that is important too) but also in nature. See, that’s a major part of the Incarnation: that Jesus’s heart goes out to people, not simply to situations.

Being a Christian means being available

I think that if we start seeing works in that way, we will also start to try to be Christians rather than to do Christian stuff. Part of that means we should avoid being busy. That’s not to say that we should be idle. Quite the contrary! But we should be interruptible and available. We should be able to consider our works as who we are when we are not doing anything.

Otherwise, our identity will become what we do, and pride will be just around the corner from that.

(1) For a more detailed, yet probably more headache-inducing account of the commonalities and differences of Catholic/Protestant beliefs, read Hooker