2023-01-04 A Meditation on the Stages of Faith
“Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you. Only let us hold true to what we have attained.” (Php 3:12–16 ESV)
Stage two, stage three, stage n. Christian faith accelerates. Would-be divisions are temporary, as utter peace is administered to the newcomer. The newbie is a phenomenon in Christian circles. The newbie is heir to all spiritual goodness. The seasoned old salt is happy and peace in their heart. They know the abundant riches: stage two, check; stage three, check; stage n, check. Theirs is an existential faith, and no regrets accompany the witnessing of the latecomer to the fold of faith: I converted when I deemed it right, and could not have done otherwise; my trials and hardships I take with gladness of heart, even if it means this fellow or gal down the street can waltz into the party at a late hour.
For there is peace in believing that the advanced stages beyond the first stage are themselves reassuring to attain to. It is reassuring to know one’s labors in the Lord have been heard, and the heart has turned over a few new leaves, the mind is a little more trained or facile with Christian doctrine and Christian society. Yet also there is the convert’s insight, that we cannot spell down nor wish away: we are called to witness radically, to hold in our hearts a pure doctrine that has wings and power to save even our soul. And we can struggle, not able to say anything to anyone except to murmur about this strange gospel, if we are true to ourselves.
With any forward onslaught, there is acknowledgment that this indeed is a fighting creed, a football match requiring constant pushing over a few yards here or there, a challenge to comfortable living. It is to grab death by the throat and never let it go. So this is war, and as such, we become warriors: we reckon with any warlord’s peacetime contemplation, that is, their hopes to step forward and participate in society on a peace platform, because the war is too real and its horrors too present.
Yet creed and confession are not peace: ““Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” (Mt 10:34). They attack a societal juggernaut forming hearts and minds for sin. They propose that the most certain things in life, a man or woman’s family (Mt 10:35-36), will be the site of the first battle. Those most similar to us will have the most difficult time recognizing what for us has become salt and light, obvious and paramount, our service.
We are called in this same passage from Matthew, to lose our life for the sake of the Gospel. Again, this is a warring creed: it offends polite society to see someone so sold on something as to put their life on the line. And this gaping and mock awe is what becomes seedbed for the woman or man’s gospel, their “life gained” (Mt 10:39). They have drawn out the shriek of Satan and the nervous gesticulations of the demon possessed. Shouts and murmurs are told to hunker down in silence (Mk 1:34). Immediate pastoral care is administered to those who, blessed by love, begin to recount hard things in their past. This is a shepherding moment, a life gained, a confessing spirit ministered to. For we do not covet the recruitment and names signed on the dotted lines, but rather the opportunity to minister to others, is what we care for. After all is said and done, it is anyone’s guess if this is a Christian society we are ministering in; but probably, it is. They have heard us, and wish to hear more (Ac 17:32).
The stages of life translate to become the stages of faith: we are near to death so that we might be all the nearer to life. We hate any senseless loss of life, because the weapons of our warfare are spiritual, having power to save from the utmost reaches of thought and deed. Yet an enemy wants a different kind of conversation, one couched in murder and antagonism to all things holy.