The shape of the world is changing
This week's verses are 1 Corinthians 7:29-31:
These verses are in the middle of Paul's "don't just get married to get married, but if you want to marry go ahead nobody is stopping you, especially if it keeps you away from the hookers, but if you don't want to you're probably better off, but either way is cool" sermon on marriage (or not.) The world was (and is) in transition. Paul urges the Corinthian church to not get stuck in the day to day grind of life, and not to let big events pull them off course. He's saying "look, before you know it, life will be over; focus on eternity."
It seems kind of heartless to do the things Paul suggests. Who lives out their marriage as if their spouse isn't there? Who doesn't take time to grieve, or to celebrate? Who makes a big purchase and then leaves it untouched? Who makes all of the arrangements to get the most out of life and then never takes time to enjoy them? We all do! But we do it for stupid things, and not for God.
If something is important to us, we push other things aside for it. How many people focus so much on their careers that they are never home, never have time to stop and share life with their husband or wife, never have dinner together, never talk, because work is so important? Up at five, out at six, home at nine, in bed by ten. We don't think twice about that, but how many people are that passionate about serving the community in God's name?
Same thing with grieving or rejoicing: Who takes time to grieve when there are reports to be written? Who takes time to celebrate when there is an important presentation in a couple days? People don't even take time off when they have a kid! We don't think twice about it when it's for our career, but when it is for God it seems freakish to push through the sadness and the joy. The double standard betrays the value system of our fallen world, which sucks us in like a materialistic whirlpool. You could rob a bank and nobody would care, if you told people "it's for work."
How many of us have bought things and then realized, after life had passed us by, that we never used them to the full? The sports car sits in the garage. The swimming pool cover stays on. Those clothes gather dust and moths in the back of the closet. The skis stay in the attic. We're so busy working and taking care of life's obligations that we don't use those things we strive so hard to be able to buy. And yet to suggest that we treat our possessions with the same contempt in our focus on eternity: it seems weird and revolutionary.
We take evening classes on marketable skills, and read how-to books. We learn Spanish and ballroom dancing. But we never use any of it, and even if we take the dream vacation we don't even look at the photos and souvenirs afterwards, because we're so busy worrying about how to pay the bills, or what to schedule when the things we're doing now are done. We have no problem occupying our lives, but to occupy it in service to an eternal God seems excessive to us.
The present shape of this world is passing away. That is a huge statement. Reality itself is dying and being reborn in a new eternal form. In the Roman colonies two thousand years ago, people were just as caught up in the daily grind as we are today. And yet the daily grind is going away. It is slowly dying.
Do you think that two thousand years from now, or ten thousand, that we as Christians in eternity will be flipping through catalogues and browsing some kind of angel-powered Internet, sitting at desks in uncomfortable chairs, cheering for sports teams, and agonizing over what to do when the weekend comes? Clearly not! And yet we do that over and over as if we were training for it. The world will have a radically different form when it comes alive again, and the only thing in common between then and now will be our relationship to God. Wouldn't it make more sense to train for that?
The weeks before Easter have traditionally been a serious time of introspection for the Church. It was a time when the world was dead, between harvest and springtime, when people couldn't live life normally even if they wanted to. People had a powerful connection with God during the Lent season, paring things back to the essentials and focusing on what really matters. Despite the wonders of modern agriculture and a global supply chain, we can still live out that season in the modern age.
I would invite you to take these verses, or the verses of your choosing, and meditate on them in the coming weeks. Try to see the shape and form of things to come and train yourself passionately for that new reality in the short time we have left.
And I say this, brothers and sisters: The time is short. So then those who have wives should be as those who have none, those with tears like those not weeping, those who rejoice like those not rejoicing, those who buy like those without possessions, those who use the world as though they were not using it to the full. For the present shape of this world is passing away.
These verses are in the middle of Paul's "don't just get married to get married, but if you want to marry go ahead nobody is stopping you, especially if it keeps you away from the hookers, but if you don't want to you're probably better off, but either way is cool" sermon on marriage (or not.) The world was (and is) in transition. Paul urges the Corinthian church to not get stuck in the day to day grind of life, and not to let big events pull them off course. He's saying "look, before you know it, life will be over; focus on eternity."
It seems kind of heartless to do the things Paul suggests. Who lives out their marriage as if their spouse isn't there? Who doesn't take time to grieve, or to celebrate? Who makes a big purchase and then leaves it untouched? Who makes all of the arrangements to get the most out of life and then never takes time to enjoy them? We all do! But we do it for stupid things, and not for God.
If something is important to us, we push other things aside for it. How many people focus so much on their careers that they are never home, never have time to stop and share life with their husband or wife, never have dinner together, never talk, because work is so important? Up at five, out at six, home at nine, in bed by ten. We don't think twice about that, but how many people are that passionate about serving the community in God's name?
Same thing with grieving or rejoicing: Who takes time to grieve when there are reports to be written? Who takes time to celebrate when there is an important presentation in a couple days? People don't even take time off when they have a kid! We don't think twice about it when it's for our career, but when it is for God it seems freakish to push through the sadness and the joy. The double standard betrays the value system of our fallen world, which sucks us in like a materialistic whirlpool. You could rob a bank and nobody would care, if you told people "it's for work."
How many of us have bought things and then realized, after life had passed us by, that we never used them to the full? The sports car sits in the garage. The swimming pool cover stays on. Those clothes gather dust and moths in the back of the closet. The skis stay in the attic. We're so busy working and taking care of life's obligations that we don't use those things we strive so hard to be able to buy. And yet to suggest that we treat our possessions with the same contempt in our focus on eternity: it seems weird and revolutionary.
We take evening classes on marketable skills, and read how-to books. We learn Spanish and ballroom dancing. But we never use any of it, and even if we take the dream vacation we don't even look at the photos and souvenirs afterwards, because we're so busy worrying about how to pay the bills, or what to schedule when the things we're doing now are done. We have no problem occupying our lives, but to occupy it in service to an eternal God seems excessive to us.
The present shape of this world is passing away. That is a huge statement. Reality itself is dying and being reborn in a new eternal form. In the Roman colonies two thousand years ago, people were just as caught up in the daily grind as we are today. And yet the daily grind is going away. It is slowly dying.
Do you think that two thousand years from now, or ten thousand, that we as Christians in eternity will be flipping through catalogues and browsing some kind of angel-powered Internet, sitting at desks in uncomfortable chairs, cheering for sports teams, and agonizing over what to do when the weekend comes? Clearly not! And yet we do that over and over as if we were training for it. The world will have a radically different form when it comes alive again, and the only thing in common between then and now will be our relationship to God. Wouldn't it make more sense to train for that?
The weeks before Easter have traditionally been a serious time of introspection for the Church. It was a time when the world was dead, between harvest and springtime, when people couldn't live life normally even if they wanted to. People had a powerful connection with God during the Lent season, paring things back to the essentials and focusing on what really matters. Despite the wonders of modern agriculture and a global supply chain, we can still live out that season in the modern age.
I would invite you to take these verses, or the verses of your choosing, and meditate on them in the coming weeks. Try to see the shape and form of things to come and train yourself passionately for that new reality in the short time we have left.
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