Fruitful Labor

I confess that, in the face of the devastation and destruction we have witnessed this past week, I find it difficult to preach this morning. It’s not unlike the Sunday after the terrorists attacks four years ago in New York and Washington, D.C. And preachers older than I recall the difficulty of preaching on the Sundays after President Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. were assassinated. In the face of such gripping anguish, how do we speak the “word of the Lord”?

I’m not sure I know how but I hope we can find a word for us in the apostle Paul’s Epistle to the Philippians. I’ll be working in Philippians throughout September and the Christian community in Philippi was the first church Paul established on European soil (see Acts 16.11-13). We don’t know with certainty when Paul wrote this letter but we do know he wrote it from prison. Since he was imprisoned often, it was likely written either from Rome, Ephesus, or Caesarea. In any case, he wrote to encourage struggling believers and set their difficulties in the broader context of what God was doing in Jesus Christ. We begin today in chapter 1.

For to me, living is Christ and dying is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me; and I do not know which I prefer. I am hard pressed between the two: my desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better; but to remain in the flesh is more necessary for you. Since I am convinced of this, I know that I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith, so that I may share abundantly in your boasting in Christ Jesus when I come to you again.

Only, live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that, whether I come and see you or am absent and hear about you, I will know that you are standing firm in one spirit, striving side by side with one mind for the faith of the gospel, and are in no way intimidated by your opponents. For them this is evidence of their destruction, but of your salvation. And this is God’s doing. For he has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well — since you are having the same struggle that you saw I had and now hear that I still have.

Paul said “living is Christ and dying is gain” — a noble sentiment certainly, but one we may find hard to apply to our lives, especially when so much death flashes from our televisions and stares back at us from the newspaper’s front page. But Paul’s concern was not just dying. It was how to live and he said living meant fruitful labor for him. Then he talked about four contexts of living and laboring in a way that bears fruit for the Gospel. First is the context of eternity; second, the context of the faith community; third, the context of the world; and fourth, the context of suffering. I want to briefly reflect on each of these starting at the end and working backwards. So first, let’s think about fruitful labor and suffering.

Paul told the Philippians, “For God has graciously granted you the privilege not only of believing in Christ, but of suffering for him as well.” That is an amazing thought. We tend to think that we suffer because we’ve done something wrong. When struggles and suffering come our way or when we see devastation, even the most mature Christian tends to say or at least to think, what have I or we done wrong to deserve this? Even in the face of our national suffering right now, there are all kinds of wagging fingers pointing blame for Katrina’s destruction on someone or something. Certainly some suffering comes because we or others do wrong. But Paul says some suffering is a privilege given to us by God.

He had in mind suffering that is in some way redemptive, a kind of suffering that enriches the lives of others and brings healing to the world.[1] We may find this perplexing because our culture places little value on anything that causes discomfort or inconvenience. Yet we know that some suffering is enriching and healing. Think, for example, of the sacrifices some parents make for their children, the things they give up and do without so their kids can have better lives.

Yet suffering can redeem in a still more profound and mysterious way. A few days ago I found a note in my files that mentioned World War II and one of the smaller Nazi concentration camps named Ravensbruck where 92,000 men, women, and children were murdered. When that camp was liberated, a piece of wrapping paper was found near the body of a dead child. On that paper was written this prayer: “O Lord, remember not only the men and women of good will, but also those of ill will. But do not remember the suffering they have inflicted on us; remember the fruits we bought, thanks to this suffering: our comradeship, our loyalty, our humility, the courage, the generosity, the greatness of heart which has grown out of all this. And when they come to judgment, let all the fruits that we have borne be their forgiveness.”[2]

I think of myself as a spiritual person. I certainly try to be a Christ-centered man, failing at it more than succeeding. But even at my spiritual best, even at my Christ-centered best, I don’t understand how such a prayer could even be thought let alone written in the midst of such suffering and inhumanity. That is the mystery of suffering. Somehow it redeems in ways we can never calculate nor understand. Because Christ suffered redemptively, so too can his followers. Every time faith, hope, and love suffer, we are receiving God’s gift. I don’t understand this. But if God wants to give me something, I want to receive it — I hope you do too — hard though it may be. For we live to labor fruitfully even when suffering.

Paul also said, “Live your life in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that … [you] are in no way intimidated by your opponents.” In other words, we must not only labor fruitfully when suffering but do so in the context of the world. For the most part, Christians cannot live by themselves. We live in a world with others who disagree with us. We sometimes think no one cares how we live, but that’s not true. How we live makes a difference in the world.

I don’t know any Christian who wasn’t both embarrassed and outraged a couple of weeks ago when so-called evangelist Pat Robertson encouraged the United States to assassinate Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. A few days later, Robertson did apologize for his remark but I doubt very much he changed any of his habits of thinking that led him to make the remark in the first place.[3]

Of course, we can dismiss Robertson as an idiot or a fool or worse, but that doesn’t solve the dilemma for us. He said what he did because he thought that would be doing the will of God. You and I believe we are doing the will of God. How can we distinguish between the two?

The best answer I’ve come up with so far has to do with the way we fight for what we believe. I’m not sure the Christian faith is pacifist. There are those who argue that it is, that following Christ means we cannot bear arms in any way. I’m not sure about that. But I am sure the Christian faith is pacifist when it comes to defending itself. The Gospel cannot be advanced by semi-automatic weapons.

If Christians buy guns and bullets to defend the cause of Christ, they have by that very act departed from the way of Christ. It is better to die, as Jesus did, than to lift a gun in the name of Christ. If we are to labor fruitfully in the world, the only weapon we can use is the fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.” (Gal. 5.22-23) Unless we fight with these weapons alone, we are not fighting for Christ.

My third point is that Christians do not live only in the world. We also live in the community of faith. Paul said, “I know that I will remain and continue with all of you for your progress and joy in faith.” Paul was always thinking about what was good for the community of Christian believers. We, too, must labor fruitfully in and with the community of faith.

Have you ever wondered how, at a very practical level, we know what is right? How we think and behave are largely determined socially, that is, by the community in which we live. So if faith is not part of a person’s community, faith is not likely to be a part of that person. The faith community makes a mighty difference.

Last week I got an email from some dear friends at our former church in Spokane. Among the many ways that couple was involved in that church was as leaders in a youth program we called Logos. Logos happened on Wednesday evenings for children and youth from preschool through senior high. We gathered for three and a half hours of Bible study, music, crafts, games, and dinner. Often there were as may as 125 children, youth, and adults present.

When we sat down for dinner, everyone went to their assigned table and the assignments were made so that every table had kids of all ages as well as adults — just like a family. And everyone at the table took turns bringing the plates and bowls of food from the kitchen and helping to clean up after dinner.

I remember vividly how one time a young girl named Ashley was bringing a bowl of tater tots to her table. The bowl slipped from her hands, smashed into dozens of pieces, and tater tots went flying everywhere. If that had happened in many families, there would have been cursing, perhaps even hitting or other abuse. If that had happened at school, there would have been laughter and ridicule. But at Logos, no one cursed or hit or ridiculed. I didn’t even hear anyone laugh. Instead someone put an arm around Ashley and asked if she was okay. Someone else started to track down the wayward tater tots. Someone else got a broom and dustpan. Another person swept up the glass. Someone else went to the kitchen where more food was gladly given. That’s the faith community in action.

Was that church perfect? No, of course, not and obviously neither are we. But we always need to labor fruitfully as a faith community shaped by the love of Christ. The faith community can make all the difference.

Finally, we must live and labor fruitfully in light of eternity. Living is Christ but dying is gain, said Paul. He had no death wish. He wasn’t devaluing the importance of this life. He was trying to set it in context. Human life is to be lived for Christ and death gains us even more of Christ.

There seems to be a constant debate in our nation these about life/death issues. We can think back several months to Terri Schiavo. Or to rancor about stem cell research. Or even about Supreme Court nominee John Robert’s views on abortion. And why is it that the world’s richest nation can’t provide health insurance for everyone? How do we protect life and when do we end life? The questions are medical and scientific, economic and political, and certainly ethical and religious.

But as we wrangle with these painful issues, the context of eternity should teach us something. Prolonging life when there is no hope is neither right nor necessary. To DIE is gain. To die is GAIN. We don’t have that perspective often but that is the biblical perspective. To die is gain. This earthly life, as abidingly precious as it is, is not the sum total of reality. Knowing this puts our decisions about life in their proper context.

Last Sunday I mentioned my mother and she died some 15 years ago after suffering her final 7 or 8 years with Alzheimer’s Disease. That condition increasingly diminished her capacity to interact with the world. So as she steadily worsened, we instructed the nursing home to take no heroic measures. Keep her as comfortable as possible but do not unnecessarily prolong her life.

This was not a financial decision though it had financial implications. It was a faith decision. We knew our mother’s faith in Jesus Christ. Philippians 1.21 was a favorite verse of hers: for her, to live was Christ and, for her, unable to communicate, unable even to recognize her own family, dying was gain. And you see, my mother did die her earthly death but she is still living today. Earth years don’t count anymore. Her age is now reckoned in the hours of eternity. So we must live here and labor fruitfully in the light of eternity.

My dear friends, in good times and bad, when life is joyful and when the suffering seems beyond what we can bear, we must labor in ways that bear fruit for Christ. If there is suffering, know that suffering can be God’s gift to us. We must live in the world where the only weapons we use are the weapons of love. We must live in the community of faith where we learn what is right by doing what is right. And finally we must live in the light of eternity: living is Christ and dying brings us even more into his loving presence. Thanks be to God.

[1] Richard J. Foster, Prayer: Finding the Heart’s True Home (San Francisco: Harper, 1992) 218.

[2] Foster, 224.

[3] According to CNN’s website on August 24, 2005, after two days of criticism, Christian broadcaster Pat Robertson apologized for his controversial suggestion that the United States should assassinate Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez. “Is it right to call for assassination? No, and I apologize for that statement,” Robertson said. “I spoke in frustration that we should accommodate the man who thinks the U.S. is out to kill him.” But Robertson didn’t apologize for his habits of mind that led him to make this outrageous statement in the first place. He compared Chavez to Iraq’s Saddam Hussein and Adolf Hitler and quoted German Lutheran theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer: “[That if a madman were] driving a car into a group of innocent bystanders, then I can’t, as a Christian, simply wait for the catastrophe and then comfort the wounded and bury the dead. I must try to wrestle the steering wheel out of the hands of the driver.” Bonhoeffer was hanged by the Nazis for his involvement in a 1944 plot to assassinate Hitler. Robertson showed no insight into the moral struggle of Bonhoeffer to reach the conclusion he did about Hitler. And the German martyr also concluded that though killing Hitler was necessary, it was also wrong and sinful.