Running from Church to Find God

            In the case of Philemon, the history might be the best commentary. Philemon was a man who owned slaves. He was a believer in Jesus, and somehow had a connection with Paul, by Paul’s own words he was indebted his life. The story that seems to be taking place in the midst of Philemon is a slave named Onesimus ran away. Philemon was a believer in Jesus, and he had some sort of meeting of the Church in his home. One of the questions that come to mind would be why his slave ran away – but more specifically, why to Paul?

            The best thing that can be figured was that Onesimus heard about this man Paul. He heard about this man Jesus. He heard the message of the Gospel, but didn’t see the reality of it lived out before him. His master was quite the Christian man in front of all the other believers, but is it possible that he was less than sanctified while dealing with his slaves? Maybe the reason that Onesimus ran away – especially to Paul – was because he heard the message of hope and redemption, but still felt oppressed and tormented. Onesimus would have ran to Paul as an attempt to find the man who gave his master hope and redemption. He apparently believed the Gospel, but was discontent in the house of affliction – a house that purported to be Christian.

            In one way, we can look at this and ask why it must have been that this happened, but in another very real sense, we need to glance at out own lives. Why is it that our friends and family – those who are closest to us – don’t believe our message? Is there anything is me that would hinder my witness of the Gospel? Am I the very instrument that is causing someone in my own home to say, “I would love to believe it, but where is the reality in their life?” All across the world we find this story being played out a million times over. Teenagers, friends, coworkers, and acquaintances are running away from Church to find God. This isn’t a new phenomenon. It has happened from the very first century onward. The question is not why they are leaving. The question is why they have been pushed out the door.

            What is it about Philemon that drove Onesimus to such drastic measures? What is it about our so-called Christian homes and church gatherings that have driven the youth away? I have yet to talk to one person that is uninterested in God, except they who are in the Church. The people outside of the buildings have questions that are not getting answered, and they love to talk and discuss the things of God when someone is able to talk reasonably and intellectually. It is the system of religion that has driven them into insanity, looking for life and hope in a dead and dying world. Where are the Pauls of the world? Where are the people that they can run to? Unlike Onesimus, our generation seems to have persecuted the true apostles and prophets so that there is no one to run to.

            In a world that is hostile to God, where do they who truly seek run to? The buildings don’t talk about God. They quote from the Bible, but only to talk about self. On September 12, 2001, while churches across America gathered for their midweek Bible studies, and again on the 16th for Sunday service, millions of people flocked to the churches with questions of love and hope. They wanted to know whether America was under judgment because of the terrorist attacks. They wanted to know if God saw their oppression and heard their cry. They wanted to hear a message from the preachers, who are supposed to be God’s spokesmen, but instead found “business as usual”. When they ran to the churches to find hope and redemption, the preachers got up and began the same sermon series from where they left off – as if the World Trade Centers had not just been kamikazed. Where do the people have to run? Who is the voice that they can go to in order to ask these difficult questions?

            What I find as a challenge with the book of Philemon is that this man was a Christian who sat under Paul’s teaching, and even had a house church. Yet, Onesimus found it necessary to run away from that in order to find God. What vexes me is that I see the same thing taking place, but where do they run? To whom do they take counsel in? The severity of the situation calls for drastic measures, and yet the majority of Christians see it as a “them” problem and not an “us” problem. They are the ones leaving, right? So why is that our fault? What was it in Philemon that caused Onesimus to run away? It wasn’t because of Onesimus that Onismus ran. He could have very well spoken to his master about the same things he sought Paul for. Yet, he decided to run to Paul instead of asking the very man closest to him.

            In considering the book of Philemon, let us consider also the implications that this epistle has on our own lives. Let us reflect on those who have run away from our own homes and lives. Is there anything in us that would have caused for that fleeing? Sometimes there isn’t anything, and they just don’t want to believe. Yet, that shouldn’t be our immediate response, considering the depth of grace and love that we’ve experienced in Christ. Anyone who knew the glory that we have attained to in Christ would sprint 1000 miles to also come unto. The question isn’t our message, nor their hearts, but first and foremost our own hearts and lives and conduct.

           I feel like to end, I should quote Mother Teresa: If you don't want your children, then send them to me. She was talking about abortion, but I'm officially opening my doors for a generation that is asking questions.

The Father of All Comfort

            “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort,” 2 Corinthians 1:3-7. The word comfort is used nine times in this passage. What exactly is implied by comfort? It is not pampering, for the idea of suffering is mentioned side by side with comfort seven times. This comfort might be likened to solace, or consolation. While it does not take away the pain or suffering, this comfort does give us the patient endurance necessary to continue onward.

            To think of God as the Father of compassion, the God of comfort, seems to truly help us in navigating what it means to be a father in our own lives. Noah got drunk, something I’m sure was not intentional. Yet, is it possible that God allowed this father to experience disgrace in order to give opportunity to the sons to cover their father’s sin with love? This might make a little more sense of why Noah had such a harsh rebuke to Ham. Maybe instead of showing the character that had been revealed by Noah on what it means to live a godly life, Ham displayed a character that was rampant before the flood. Instead of living in the righteousness that was taught and displayed by his father, Ham pursued the wickedness of the age.

            Fatherhood is about discipleship. It is about priestliness. We take up the sins of our sons upon our own shoulders. We bear their immaturity. We accept the shame and disgrace that they might bring in order to develop in them love and righteousness. As Paul told the Church in Corinth, “Follow me as I follow Christ.” In this statement we find fatherhood. To imitate Paul is to imitate Christ. God has brought this man into such a relationship with Him that you cannot separate the two. To see Paul is to see the Father – he and the Father are one. Because Paul has followed His rabbi – Jesus – and been brought unto the sonship of the Father, he is now equipped to go and call others unto the glory of being sons and daughters. No longer does Jesus look that we would be children, but brothers. To be the brother of Jesus is a statement of character, a statement of maturity. When we have been brought into the reality of maturity that we live like Christ lived, which is to say, we follow the Father’s example, we have thus been made sons and daughters, and not mere children, of God.

            In this we find God’s heart. God as Father means teaching His children to be like Him. Yet, in that it is not to make replicas, but rather to teach maturity and character. When we display the maturity and character of Christ, we are displaying the character of God the Father. That kind of character does not take us from being who we are, but interestingly calls us to fulfilling all that we are. God has called us to being the very people that He has called us to be, and that calling is predicated upon being free from everything that would cause us to live in a way that we are not. We are made in the image of God, and anything that would cause us to live in a skewed reflection of God is sin. If the Father has not revealed to you His character, then one might ask the question of whether we have truly come to Christ. To see Christ is to see the Father. They do not have two separate characters. The distinction made is their heart. The heart of the Father is directed to His children. The heart of the Son is directed to His Father, and in being directed to His Father, is also directed toward His brothers. The Spirit is the revelation of God in us. While Christ reveals the Father to us, God has given His Spirit to dwell within us. The heart of the Spirit is that we would rely upon Him in order to be brought into the image of Christ. The disposition of each member of the trinity is distinct, yet they all have the same character. To rely upon the Spirit is to be brought into the image of Christ, and to be conformed to the image of Christ is to display the Father to the world.

            God as Father is difficult for us to comprehend because we lack so heavily. The Father’s heart is never to promote Himself, nor to cause you to be Him. It is the heart of the Father that displays to us what true love is. “God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life.” What does this verse tell us? It is telling us more than simply ‘God loves us and we need to believe in Jesus to be saved.’ God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son. Why did God give His Son? The reason that the Father gave His Son on our behalf is that we might also be adopted as sons and daughters – made coheirs with Christ. It is to bring many sons to glory. It is not simply so that we might make it to heaven, but instead that we might also display to the world the heart of the Father. Don’t forget that this same Son who was given told His disciples, “If any man desires to come after me, he must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me.”

            It is our calling as sons and daughters to be the sacrificial sons and daughters on behalf of the world. This is the heart of the Father: that the entire world would come to know Him. The way that this takes place is by our sacrifice – in living as Jesus lived, we point the way to God by imitating The Way. This is why we suffer. If we have been baptized into Christ, then we have been baptized into His death. What does this mean but that we will also taste of His sufferings? Yet, we know that if we partake in His sufferings, that we will be raised unto life by the same glory that raised Christ unto life. The same consolation that Christ received is given freely to us. This is fatherhood: to give even the most precious thing you have – your only begotten Son – in order to bring many sons unto glory.

Priestliness is Fatherhood, Fatherhood is Priestliness

            The Father loves the Son. His great love is shown through that He desired only to benefit His son. I think to say that God desired “the best” for His Son is provocative, to say that least. The Father didn’t simply desire “the best” for His Son, but desired an eternal blessing. It was the Father’s heart to glorify the Son, which is much deeper than saying “the best.” I think this might be where many of us go wrong. We desire to give “the best” for our children, but how do we define that “best”? God the Father desired to glorify His Son. That glory that He should impart upon His Son was to give Him a name above every name – even His own name.

            “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to” the Son. When it was the Father’s right, seeing as He is eternal and shall never die, to keep Himself upon the throne, nothing delighted Him more than to give everything He had to His Son. No longer do we don’t call upon the Father, but instead we pray “in Jesus’ name.” This isn’t to separate the Father and Son, but to say that it pleases the Father that His Son should receive the higher honor and glory. Jesus taught us to pray, “Our Father who is in heaven…” The Father delights that we should honor the Son.

            Fatherhood is priestliness, and priestliness is fatherhood. The two are interwoven. To be priestly, one must be fatherly. Fatherhood is defined above: to desire nothing but the glorification of the Son. When we are spiritual fathers, adopting sons of our own to raise in the faith, our desire should not be to “impart something of worth,” but instead to sacrifice everything – expending ourselves and being spent – so that our son might be glorified and exalted higher than we ever could have dreamed. This is the priestly act.

            We are called to being a royal priesthood. Yet, I don’t know that I’ve ever heard the question asked: priests for whom? It is not wrong to say that we are priests to one another. In a real sense, we need to take up one another’s burdens and carry them together. I should go to the elders with my faults so that they might pray for me and I might be healed. I should look to the others in the Body to confess my faults, and in that confession to both be held accountable and have someone else to wrestle with me. I should take my petition to another brother as one would take the sacrifice to the priest. They, in return, then take that sacrifice of confession unto the Lord to seek deliverance from the power of sin.

           There is another level to this. We are called to be priests unto Israel. To be Israel’s priests is to take upon self their sins and their wretchedness. We endure the shame of their guilt, exchanging our glory for their shame, so that they might be glorified and exalted to such a place that they can fulfill their ultimate mandate: to be a nation of priests. When Israel is a priestly nation, then the other nations, as nations, can come unto God. As long as Israel remains a people that do not know their God, only individuals will come to Him. There will be a remnant. But when Israel is redeemed, then even the nations will come up to Jerusalem (Micah 4:2).

            Our calling to be priests is a call to being fathers. We need to have a father’s heart. Whether we have come to a place of having a father’s heart is going to be best explained in how we react to this generation. If our heart is to say, “Those darn millennials are just a bunch of hoodlums,” then our heart condemns us. But, if our heart is to break over the amount of youth that are giving themselves over to pornography, lust, violence, and crude entertainment, and we would say to those parents that don’t care about their children, “Send your unwanted children to me,” then we have obtained unto priestliness. It is a priestly thing to submit oneself under agony and suffering for the sake of a generation, or “corporate son.”

            Fathers are so much more than teachers. Priests are so much more than people that minister the sacrifices. To be a priest or a father is to impart life. In 1 Thessalonians 2:7-8, Paul elaborates a bit more for us: “We proved to be gentle among you, as a nursing mother tenderly cares for her own children. Having thus a fond affection for you, we were well pleased to impart to you not only the gospel of God but also our own lives, because you had become very dear to us.”

            Unlike the gifts and callings of God, where God gives to some, the call of fatherhood is made to each and every man in the faith. We should corporately be a fatherly people, in which the world doesn’t have the slightest idea what it means to be “bastard.” If the world’s fathers are so bankrupt of anything sacred that they will abandon their children, then the men of the faith should open their homes and take in those that have no fathers. There should be a refuge and safe haven for all the orphans. Even James says that “religion that is pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.”

            This in no way means that we should run out into the streets and start pulling the first young man that we see into our homes. All things are done according to the Spirit. All I’m suggesting is that when we are truly of a father’s heart, or a mother’s heart, we yearn for those that are abandoned. We hear of those that have no fathers and we do everything in our power to help that one or two that we know. Maybe we know more than one or two; maybe we only know one. The point isn’t the number, but the heart.

            One man has written, “If we can be faithful to this call, the next generation may yet say to us, ‘Thank you for thinking beyond yourselves, for allowing the Lord to invest in you in such a way that you now have much to deposit in us,’ and thereby serving the purpose of God in your generation, as well as theirs.” Ultimately, the issue of fatherhood is first a spiritual issue. We are to be fathers to those in the faith. We are to take in those that have no father to teach them of the ways of God. There is a generation of young men and women that go to youth group, but have nothing to do with the generation before them. There is such a divide between the Baby Boomers, Generation X, and the Millennials. I am fearful to ask what the chasm will be between these and “the Silent Generation” (from the year 2000 to present).

            In the Old Testament, it is continually said over and over that we are to pass on to the next generation the Law of God and the stories of our history. Those that came out of the wilderness and into the Promised Land were to tell the stories of how God brought them out of Egypt and delivered into their possession the Land. Yet, we find in the very next generation after Joshua dies that Israel is carried away into idolatry. What happened? Either the children didn’t care, or the fathers weren’t fathers.

            The statement is made by Hosea, “Like priest, like people.” I think it can be paraphrased, “Like father, like children.” If the fathers don’t care about the things of God, then the children won’t care about the things of God. Too many times I look at the “elders” in the faith, and their eyes are glossed over. They’re still technically alive, but they’ve lost all joy and unction. While everyone else is still maturing in their faith, the one who should be a father to us all is sitting behind the television zoning out of reality. Their eyes have glossed over and their mind has dulled. The no longer see reality, let alone care about reality. And then that gets passed onto the next generation.

            You allow that for multiple generations in a row, and you’ll find yourself in the place where we are currently. Just as much as the question can be asked, “Where are the fathers?” the question can be asked, “Where are the sons?” We have raised up a generation that doesn’t want a father. They’ve become so accustomed to the dread of their own fathers, and the relationships of “lording it over the flock” that they really just want to rebel against anything that calls itself “authoritative.” But this isn’t because the youth have a rebellious heart.

            King Saul at one point told his army that they were going to fight all night. The men were tired. They were hungry. They were exhausted. Then Saul says that they aren’t allowed to eat until they have gained the victory. Guess what the people did. As soon as they had victory they started eating the animals of that people they had victory over. They didn’t even wait for the meat to be thoroughly cooked. They ate the meat with the blood in it. Then Saul laid to their charge that they were sinning by eating the meat with the blood. What’s wrong with this picture?

            That army would not have eaten the meat with the blood in it if King Saul had allowed them to sleep and eat. But instead, he continued to slave drive the army of Israel. We have the same thing in our time. There is a generation that has been stepped on, abused, misused, abandoned, and despised since their conception. They’ve grown up and began to rebel. Whose fault is it? Do we stand in self-righteousness like King Saul? Or do we weep because we have sinned in mishandling the things of God? The answer to that question will reveal more than we're willing to behold of ourselves. When we’re dealing with God’s ultimate purposes, we’re dealing with the very heart of God. It takes a priest to read and teach such things, let alone enact them.

            I think that it is past time that we pursue God's ultimate intentions. If that ultimate intention is fatherhood, which I'm beginning to think that it might be, then we strive with all of our might to be fathers. If there is anything that many of us buck against it is the idea of fatherhood. It might be the most needed thing in our culture, and yet the most opposed at the same time.