Tactics

Text: Colossians 3:12-27 December 31, 2006

Welcome, children of God, holy and beloved.

Modern Protestant Christianity is a long on strategy and short on tactics. Or to be more churchy: long on theology and short on practices. Or what Christianity calls disciplines: things we can do to live the kind of faithful life we would like to live. It is great to know that we are justified by God's grace, but now what? What do we do day to day, hour to hour, knowing we have been freed from the power of death?

For Protestants, disciplines have usually been put at the back of the drawer, along with the unpaired socks and the squashed penny souvenir from the Space Needle. Something not very useful but not yet ready for the trash. Luther and especially his fellow reformers felt that Christians had been captive to the rules and regulations of the Roman church, and so de-emphasized many powerful but traditional disciplines that they thought enslaved people to the church hierarchy. And in our time, people have been confused about how and how much their faith can and should be expressed in public, as opposed to personal or private, lives. There is a school of thought that imagines faith to be something emotional—a feeling, sort of—or belief, but not something real; as real, say, as paying the rent or dealing with your boss or your significant other. Practical things.

But the need for guidance—we have been saved by Christ; now what do we do today, or this minute?—is a question even the earliest Christian communities struggled with. The passage in the letter to the Colossians we just heard from tries to help its readers with an answer.

It is likely that this epistle was written by someone other than Paul, some time after his death, but to a group of followers of Jesus who are trying to conform their lives to Jesus. How should they do that? The letter presents a kind of argument, or a kind of program, for behavior. In summary, the argument says that we can act in a certain way out of power that comes from Christ. In detail, the argument has four parts.

First, it starts by making clear that the things that usually guide people’s actions: power, position, safety, revenge, things like that, are not helpful to Christians. Instead, the people are urged to be compassionate, kind, humble, gentle, and patient. What these five things have in common is a tendency to put others before ourselves. To consider others to be equal to or better than we are. Counter-cultural, for sure. [As one scholar explains:] To waive one’s rights rather than be concerned for personal gain. To not become frustrated and enraged but to make allowances for other people’s exasperating behavior. To acknowledge as if we were feeling it ourselves the pain that others feel. All these things are essential, Colossians argues, for the sake of the community. And the community in the end is the whole world.

But this is a list of goals, not tactics. Easy to note, hard to do. So the second part of the argument backs up a step. Everybody wants to be compassionate. No one wants to hurt others. But how can we do that? We start with what we know. And what we know is the word of Christ. Which in our case means the words of Jesus (his teachings, prayers, and parables) and the words about Jesus (the Gospels, and also the words that others tell us about their own experiences of Christ) and about the words in our own heads and hearts about Jesus (our own experiences of Jesus in life, in prayer, and in worship and song).

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly,” the people are told. The word is like food. Rich food. Good food. Delicious and nutritious. As rich as Christmas chocolate and good wine and as nutritious as tofu and green beans. Like food, the word of Christ gives us energy, power, and substance. It is necessary for life and action. Let the food-like word of Christ be in you, says Colossians. That means: don’t fill up on other things; don’t spoil your appetite. And it means: seek the word; spend time in the pantry and looking into the refrigerator. Snacks would be good, too.

The third part of the argument is that the word of Christ leads to peace. The peace is a result of confidence that in Christ, death has no power to rule us. What we learn from the word of Christ is that we can live without fear. Or maybe more practically, that when we have fears—which we are bound to have—that we can turn to the word of Christ to remind us that the fears are—at their core—groundless.

“Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts,” the people are told. There are lots of other things that might rule in our hearts. What are the things that pull us, move us, and rule us? Wanting to be admired, to be safe and secure, to be loved, to not be lonely, laughed at, ignored. To get good grades. To get back at someone, to be left alone, to not be bothered. But of all those things, says Colossians, the peace that Christ brings is the ruler of them all. They are the subjects. You tell them to hush, to quiet down a bit, to chill. Let peace have its sway, says Colossians. Let peace be the boss.

The goal drives us. The word powers us. The peace frees us. But it is Jesus who shows us what to do. The fourth part of the argument is that empowered by the word and freed from the power of fear and death, we live our daily lives through the guidance of Jesus. “Do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus,” says Colossians.

As we do anything, keep Jesus is mind. Think to yourself: I do this in the name of Jesus. I come across a beggar on the street. Could you say: “I give this dollar in the name of Jesus.” How about: “I pass on by in the name of Jesus.”

Could you say: I admire the sky in the name of Jesus. I eat this Special K cereal in the name of Jesus. I vote for this person in the name of Jesus. How about: I complain about my boss in the name of Jesus. I throw this trash on the street in the name of Jesus. I smoke this cigar in the name of Jesus. How about that?

I paint this picture. I visit my aunt. I take the dog for a walk. I give some money to Oxfam. I buy an iPod. I fix my car. I write this nasty letter or this complimentary one.

Do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus. In some things we do it is easy to add “in the name of Jesus.” “I donate to Lutheran World Relief.” “I say hello to the ticket taker.” In others, it makes us uncomfortable. Rightly so. “I cheat on my taxes.” Or makes us embarrassed or sad. “I steal from my business colleague.” “I refuse to call my father.” Or so bad and secret that it makes us go “la la-la la-la. I don’t want to hear you.” The rule of thumb for Colossians is this: judge what you do, or intend to do, by considering whether you would be comfortable doing it “in the name of Jesus.” If you would, then do it. If you wouldn’t, then don’t.

Thinking about Jesus in all we do helps us pay attention to life and our lives. It is a kind of mindfulness. It is a discipline, a habit of being that helps us live more intentionally (that is, not by accident or distractedly or carelessly). It helps us to notice the world more (makes that Special K taste better and the clouds more beautiful and the iPod more amazing), it helps us do with less (because we take time and enjoy the pleasures of appreciation), and it helps us be virtuous as defined in Colossians (because we notice that others are much like ourselves).

It sounds from all this that faith proceeds practice. But it is usually the opposite. If we wait until we feel spiritually ready, we’ll never start. It is like trying to write the perfect love letter, which being never perfect never gets sent, and the lovers never meet. Spiritual practice is not like a final exam, best taken after much preparation. It is more like trying to fix a faucet. You just start, and if you find that you have to rush to the hardware store to find the right bolt, then back a while later to get that special tool—well, that’s how such things go. And that’s how most of us learn about plumbing.

Faith is like that. You start out doing things in the name of Jesus. And in your heart, the peace of Christ begins to rule, and in you, the word of Christ begins to make itself at home. And pretty soon, you find yourself acting with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. And you begin to see, as Colossians says at the very first, that you are chosen by God, holy, and beloved.