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A Brief Commentary on Colossians

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Rembrandt van Rijn, Saint Paul

Over the past few weeks I’ve been teaching an online course on Paul’s letter to the Colossians. As we’ve gone through the letter, I’ve also been noting on social media some insights gained from studying Colossians. It occurred to me at some point that these form a kind of short-hand commentary on the letter. Here are those social media posts, making for A Brief Commentary on Colossians.

Scholars debate whether Paul actually wrote Colossians (Col 1:1), mostly on theological grounds. Pseudonymous writings were known in the ancient world, a devoted disciple writing in their mentor’s name.

I have doubts about other Pauline letters, but I believe Paul directly authorized Colossians.

Colossians—like most of Paul’s letters—begins with an extended prayer (Col 1:3ff.). Typically these prayers merge into a theologically rich section, which forms the basis for practical exhortations.

A helpful pattern: prayerful theologizing lived out practically. Faith lived out in love.

“God-Lord-Spirit” (e.g. Col 1:3-8) is Paul’s incipient trinitarianism—not the full-blown version of later orthodoxy, but a helpful triad for describing God and God’s work in the world.

God the Father works through our Lord Jesus Christ by the Holy Spirit. We come to God through Jesus by the Spirit.

“Faith-Hope-Love” (e.g. Col 1:3-5) is Paul’s triad of core Christian virtues.

“Faith” = trust in God + allegiance to God’s ways

“Hope” = future-focused faith, grounded in Jesus’ resurrection from the dead

“Love” = love in the way of Jesus: self-giving, other-lifting, compassion-in-action

Paul’s prayers (e.g. Col 1:3ff.) are saturated with gratitude. Joyful thanksgiving is a hallmark of Christian prayer.

Yes, we also lament—and so did Paul. But more often than not, our prayers should be marked by humble, joy-filled gratitude for the people in our lives and all that God has given us.

“The word of truth” in Col 1:5 is not the Bible. It’s “the gospel,” the text says, the orally proclaimed message about Jesus. This is true of nearly all “word of x” language in the NT, including “word of God.”

The story of Jesus is God’s good-news word to the world. The Bible bears witness to this.

The fruit of the gospel, the fruit of the Spirit’s work in response to the good news about Jesus, is faith, hope, and love in the way of Jesus (Col 1:3-8).

The seed of the word is planted in the soil of our hearts, and if the soil is good it bears much fruit (Mark 4:20).

Four common themes in Paul’s prayers (e.g. Col 1:3ff.):
1) Gratitude for the other, for their faith, hope, and/or love.
2) For the knowledge of God’s will to be fruitful in doing God’s will.
3) For strength to endure hardships with joyful thanksgiving.
4) For growth in love for one another.

What’s in our prayers?

“From the day you heard the gospel and truly comprehended the grace of God” (Col 1:6).

What a wonderful description of a come-to-Jesus moment! Hearing the good-news story of Jesus and fully grasping the amazing grace of God—and being utterly transformed in the encounter.

Paul makes much of his “co-workers” like Epaphras (Col 1:7), faithful men and women who shared with Paul in bringing the good news of Jesus to the world. Contrary to our imagined lone-ranger image of Paul (like Rembrandt’s famous painting, above), he depended on others, working in community.

Knowledge of God and God’s will is never given by God so we can appear clever or wise in the eyes of others. These are given by God to make us fruitful in good works, the works of faith and hope and love—works which are often unseen by others (Col 1:9-10).

God has “rescued us from the power of shadows and transferred us into the kingdom of God’s beloved Son” (Col 1:14).

In other words, we’ve experienced a profound change in lordship: formerly slaves to evil powers, now committed followers of Jesus and his way of love leading to justice and peace.

Col 1:15-20 is highly poetic, and may be from an early Christian hymn (see also 1 Cor 8:6 and Phil 2:6-11). I love the idea of early Jesus-followers gathering in Ephesus or Colossae, their croaky dawn voices singing off-key, “Praise be Jesus the Christ, the image of the invisible God…”

Jesus is “the image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15). No one has ever seen God in God’s fullness, but when we look to Jesus we see God as God is—faithful, compassionate, merciful, working through weakness, walking in love.

We are created in the image of God (Gen 1:27)—Jesus *is* the image of God (Col 1:15).

This means we who follow Jesus are being re-created in the image of Jesus (Col 3:10-11)—becoming more and more like him in his way of being, his way of living in the world.

Jesus— “all things have been created through him and for him” (Col 1:16). Jesus is the embodiment of divine wisdom, through which God created and sustains all things (Prov 8:22-31). If we want to know what divine wisdom looks like, look to Jesus: pure, peaceable, gentle, merciful… (Jas 3:17).

For the Apostle Paul, the powers of this world are both “visible and invisible” (Col 1:16)—material and spiritual, human and non-human, personal and impersonal. They are humans with power. They are powerful systems and structures. They are the spirit that animates and compels these powers.

The powers of this world—human, systemic, spiritual—were created by God (Col 1:16). When good, we are called to participate with them, using power to serve. When evil, we are called to resist them, nonviolently. Either way, we trust in God’s ultimate reconciliation of these powers (Col 1:20).

Jesus is “the head of the body, the church” (Col 1:18). He is the source of the church’s life, the guiding authority over the church. The church is called to live out the life of Jesus, to continue his reconciling mission in the world (Luke 4:18-19; 19:10; Acts 10:36).

Jesus is both the “firstborn of all creation” and the “firstborn from the dead” (Col 1:15, 18). “Firstborn” is not emphasizing his origins, but his status—in both God’s original creation and God’s new creation, Jesus is Lord, having “first place in everything.”

In Jesus “all the fullness (of God) dwells” (Col 1:19). Everything that is God is found in Jesus. All God’s transcendence-in-immanence, all God’s power-in-weakness, all God’s majesty-in-humility, all God’s sovereignty-in-service, all God’s holiness-in-mercy, all God’s faithfulness-in-love.

Through Jesus “God was pleased to reconcile to God’s self all things” (Col 1:20). This was Jesus’ mission, and he continues this mission through the church and by God’s Spirit in the world. All things—every person, everything in creation—will be renewed, brought to wholeness and harmony!

In Jesus God has reconciled all things, “making peace through the blood of his cross” (Col 1:20). This isn’t penal substitutionary atonement—it’s Christus victor, Jesus through his bloody crucifixion at the hands of the world’s powers disarming these powers and triumphing over them (Col 2:14-15).

Paul uses strong language to describe the way Gentiles live: “hostile in mind, doing evil deeds” (Col 1:21). There’s surely hyperbole here, common early Jewish rhetoric, but it highlights a reality for all of us: we all have habits of harm which can enslave us, from which we need to be liberated.

We who are in Christ are “holy and blameless and irreproachable”—as long as we “continue securely established and steadfast in the faith” (Col 1:22-23). Throughout the NT Christian faith is portrayed as an ongoing journey, growing in our trust in God and our commitment to Jesus’ way of love.

In what sense has the gospel already “been proclaimed to every creature under heaven” (Col 1:23)? Through Jesus’ resurrection from the dead and his exaltation to God’s right hand: these are God’s public declaration of the defeat of sin and death, and of Jesus as Lord over all evil powers.

If “the gospel has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven” (Col 1:23) then all God’s creatures can proclaim the good news back to us—if we have eyes to see and ears to hear.

“God was pleased to reconcile to God’s self all things”; the gospel “has been proclaimed to every creature under heaven” (Col 1:20, 23). The good-news story of Jesus has profound implications for everything God has created, and we as Christians are called to live into the restoration of creation.

Paul on his sufferings: “In my flesh I am completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions” (Col 1:24). This is not that Jesus didn’t suffer enough on the cross; it’s that our co-suffering love with and for others is an extension of Jesus’ co-suffering love with and for the world.

Paul is realistic about physical suffering: he calls it a “groaning” with creation and the Spirit, even a “messenger of Satan” (Rom 8; 2 Cor 12). Yet Paul chooses to rejoice in suffering (e.g. Col 1:24) because, even though it’s not from God, God can work through it to bring about God’s good purpose (Rom 8:28-30).

For Paul “the word of God” is not the Bible—it’s the gospel, the good-news story of Jesus. In Col 1:25 it’s specifically the good news that this gospel brings to Gentiles: the “mystery” of how, through Jesus, God has brought us into the people of God, widening the circle of God’s saving mercy.

“Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Col 1:27)—a Pauline gospel summary. We who are “in Christ” have Christ “in us,” Christ’s very Spirit. This gives us “the hope of glory”—the assurance that one day we will fully reflect Christ’s glory, the fullness of Jesus’ character, as children of God (Rom 8).

“So that we may present everyone mature in Christ” (Col 1:28)—this is Paul’s ministry goal for individual people. Being increasingly shaped into the image of Christ, the character of Jesus—his way of faith, his way of love.

“I want their hearts to be encouraged and united in love” (Col 2:2)—this is Paul’s ministry goal for communities of faith. “Encouraging” them—building them up—so that they are “united in love”—not united in particular beliefs, but in following Jesus’ way of love.

In Jesus Christ “are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge” (Col 2:3). This doesn’t mean there is no knowledge outside of Christ. Rather, it means that in Christ we find the wisdom and knowledge that most matters in life—how to live a life of faith, hope, and love.

“Though I am absent in body, yet I am with you in spirit” (Col 2:5). We’ve all experienced this, the sense of being with someone in spirit even when we can’t be there in person. Paul’s words, though, hold an ambiguity that deepens this for fellow Christians—”I am with you in spirit/the Spirit.”

“Christ Jesus the Lord” (Col 2:6)—two early Christian confessions rolled into one.

Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, the one who brings about God’s reign of justice and peace and life on earth.

Jesus is Lord, the one who holds our ultimate allegiance, above all other powers of this age.

As Christians we “receive” Jesus as Christ and Lord (Col 2:6)—we gladly welcome him as Christ and Lord, and we learn the traditional Christian teaching about him as Christ and Lord.

This is the same way in which we continue to “walk” in Jesus—as our Messiah and our Lord.

The Christian life is “walking in Jesus” as Christ and Lord—walking with Jesus, walking in his way of life (Col 2:6). We never get beyond this—spiritual maturity is about walking more closely with Jesus, more closely reflecting his character, his motives, his desires.

No, Paul is not against “philosophy” in general (Col 2:8)—he shows evidence of being familiar with, and using, some of the philosophy of his day. Here he’s probably speaking against a kind of “sophistry,” using clever but false arguments, or beautifully sounding but ultimately meaningless rhetoric.

“In Jesus the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily” (Col 2:9). Everything that God is, is found in Jesus. All God’s transcendence-in-immanence, all God’s power-in-weakness, all God’s majesty-in-humility, all God’s sovereignty-in-service, all God’s holiness-in-mercy, all God’s faithfulness-in-love.

For the Apostle Paul, Christians are those who have been crucified with Jesus (dying to our self-focused desires), buried with him (symbolized in baptism), and raised from the dead with him (sharing in his life of faith, hope, and love) (Col 2:12).

In Christ God has “forgiven us all our trespasses” (Col 2:13). This might seem irresponsible of God, not keeping us accountable. But God has also given us God’s Spirit, who works in us a life of repentance from our habits of harm, and a life of faith and love in the way of Jesus.

In crucifying Jesus the powers-that-be thought they were disarming Jesus, publicly humiliating him, triumphing over him. In a surprising twist, however, through the cross—stamped with the approval of his resurrection by God—Jesus has actually done these things to the powers of this age (Col 2:15).

Paul never denounces Jews for keeping kosher or observing Sabbath—he himself was an observant Jew. Rather, his point in Col 2 etc. is that Gentiles do not need to become Jews in order to be part of the messianic people of God—for both Jewish and Gentile Christians, the “fullness” is found in Jesus.

For Paul, the “world” and the “flesh” (e.g. Col 2:20-23) are the collective and individual manifestations respectively of living a self-focused life not centered on Jesus’ way of faith, hope, and love. In their extremes, they can reflect either rigid rule-keeping or wild self-indulgence.

Christians often equate “worldly” with selfish indulgence or rampant immorality. But in Col 2:20-23 Paul describes rigid rule-keeping as equally “of the world.” Legalism is just as worldly as licentiousness. The way of Jesus is neither of these extremes.

It’s something fundamentalisms don’t get: a way of life based on prohibitions cannot actually bring about holiness. This has “an appearance of wisdom” but it fails to deal with the root of the problem: our deeply ingrained habits of harm (Col 2:20-23). We need the Spirit. We need Jesus’ way of love.

For Paul, heaven is not a place we go after we die; it is the realm of God now, where God is most fully present (“the things above,” Col 3:1). In Christian eschatology, heaven comes down to earth; we long for God’s reign to come on earth as it is in heaven—and one day it will (Matt 6:10; Rev 21-22).

Don’t get me wrong. Paul does speak about “life after death,” but it’s not about being “in heaven.” It’s about being “with Christ” (Phil 1:23), “with the Lord” (2 Cor 5:8)—with Jesus. The ultimate goal is the resurrection of the body, living within a renewed creation (Rom 8:18-30).

If heaven/ “the things above” is where God is most fully present, “earthly” things are those which do not reflect God’s presence (Col 3:2, 5). These are not our basic human desires, which are good; they are those harmful or excessive desires we nurture, and the actions that come from them.

For Paul, “sexual immorality” (Col 3:5) refers to harmful or excessive sexual desires, attitudes, and actions: lust, promiscuity, infidelity, idolatry, exploitation, violence. Note: this has nothing to do with sexual orientation, and nothing to do with loving and committed same-sex marriages.

Paul says that greed is a form of idolatry (Col 3:5). A desire to accumulate wealth or power is akin to worshiping another god, one who commands our allegiance—and demands that we sacrifice others along the way. We cannot serve both God and Mammon (Matt 6:24).

Anger is not in itself sin— “Be angry but do not sin,” Eph 4:26 says. But not all anger is righteous, and even righteous anger can fester into rage or malice (Col 3:8). This—harmful or excessive anger—we must guard against, for it does not bring about the righteousness or justice of God (Jas 1:20).

For Christians, “Christ is all and in all” (Col 3:11). “Christ is all”—Jesus is our Messiah and Lord, in whom we find all we need for a life of faith and hope and love. And “Christ is in all”—by the Spirit the risen Jesus is in and among all followers of Jesus, with us to the end of the age.

In our baptism—and day by day throughout the Christian life—we are remade into the image of God, that is, the image of Jesus (Col 3:9-11; see 1:15). In this renewal of God’s image, there is no distinction along lines of ethnicity, culture, language, religious expression, gender, social status…

In our baptism—and day by day throughout the Christian life—we commit to putting off habits of harm and putting on holy habits of love: compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, patience, forbearance, and forgiveness (Col 3:12-14). This is like putting on Jesus, clothing ourselves in his character.

Love in the way of Jesus is the virtue that “binds together” all other Christian virtues (Col 3:14). It is “the more excellent way” (1 Cor 12:31). It is the greatest of the abiding virtues of faith, hope, and love (13:13). “Faith working through love” is “the only thing that matters” (Gal 5:6).

Love in the way of Jesus is the purpose of freedom for the Christian (Gal 5:13). This—loving our neighbour as if their needs were our own—sums up the entire Torah (Rom 13:8-10; Gal 5:14). It is the first of the fruit of God’s Spirit in our lives (Gal 5:22).

“Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children, and walk in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us” (Eph 5:1-2).

“The peace of Christ” can be inward peace, peace with one another, peace with God, peace within creation. It’s a full shalom.

In Col 3:15, the focus is on peace with one another: “the peace of Christ” is to “rule” or “judge” among us, being the determining factor among us as church communities.

“The word of Christ”: the gospel, the good-news story of Jesus. “Dwell”: make a home in. “You”: a collective plural. “Richly”: abundantly, in fullness.

“Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly”: Let the good-news story of Jesus make itself fully at home among you as a community (Col 3:16).

How does the good-news story of Jesus make itself at home among us? Through our teaching and our worship (Col 3:16). As with believers individually, so with the church collectively—we never move beyond the gospel, we never move beyond Jesus, but maturity is a deepening of life in Jesus (Col 2:6-7).

“Do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus”: do everything as if you were an envoy of Jesus, specially commissioned by him (Col 3:17). That’s a daunting task! But it is our calling as followers of Jesus: to be as Jesus to the world, especially in the way we love.

“Giving thanks to the Father” (Col 1:12). “Abounding in thanksgiving” (2:7). “Be thankful” (3:15). “Giving thanks to God the Father through Jesus” (3:17). “Devote yourselves to prayer, in thanksgiving” (4:2).

Gratitude—and the basic contentment that comes with it—is essential to the Christian life.

Col 3:18-4:1 is a “household code,” similar to the better known one in Eph 5:22-6:9. How should we read these for today?

Household codes, following Aristotle’s example, reinforced patriarchal norms to maintain order and stability in society. In following household codes, the early Christians were reassuring the powers-that-be that Christianity was not a threat to the social order.

Why was this needed? Because Christianity *was* a threat to the social order. After all, Jesus is Lord, not Caesar. And all that “brother/sister” language for fellow believers, and not promoting marriage, de-centered the biological family. The first Christians were not about “family values.”

(By the way, for more on that idea—that the earliest Christians were not “family values”—see my blog post here.)

Yet even the Pauline household codes pushed against the patriarchy: according to Col and Eph, the patriarch of the household had significant obligations to household members, outlined using Christian language of love and equity, reflecting Jesus’ Lordship.

Ephesians’ household code begins by calling on all Christians—including patriarchs—to “submit to one another out of reverence for Christ” (Eph 5:21). Both refer to one of Paul’s axioms: “There is no partiality with God”—God views all people on equal footing (Eph 6:9; Col 3:25).

So how should we read these for today? Christians should always be pushing toward greater equity and egalitarianism. Always. These household codes show us how the early Christians strove to do that, pushing against patriarchal norms even while, at times, having to live within them.

Christians must work against human enslavement, in all its forms. Yet Paul’s words to Christian slaves in his day are good words for all of us as Christians in our work: “Whatever task you do, work as for the Lord and not for humans. You serve the Lord Christ” (Col 3:23-24).

“There is no partiality” with God (Col 3:25); this is one of Paul’s axioms (Rom 2:11; Gal 2:6; Eph 6:9). God regards each person equally, through the eyes of love, regardless of their ethnicity, culture, religion, gender, age, socio-economic status—or any other social distinction we might make.

“Devote yourselves to prayer, with thanksgiving” (Col 4:2).

“Persevere in prayer” (Rom 12:12).

“Pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances” (1 Thess 5:17-18).

Regular, persistent prayer—with thanksgiving—is a fundamental reality of the Christian life. It’s the air we breathe.

I’ll say it again: for Paul “the word” is not the Bible—it’s the gospel, the good-news story of Jesus, “the mystery of Christ” (Col 4:3). As Christians may we all—through our words and through our deeds—”reveal” this mystery clearly (4:4).

Christians: “Conduct yourselves wisely toward outsiders… Let your speech always be gracious” (Col 4:5-6).

I’ll say it again for those in the back of the social media room: Christians are called to let our speech always be gracious toward those who are not Christians.

Gracious. Always.

The ends of Paul’s letters are often skipped over, but in some ways they’re the most interesting parts (e.g. Col 4:7-18). It’s there that we learn about Paul’s coworkers and we get a window onto his closest relationships. We can even glimpse God at work behind the scenes of the NT.

“Onesimus, the faithful and beloved brother, who is one of you” (Col 4:9). This is the same Onesimus who is the runaway slave from Philemon, for whom Paul in that letter advocates. He is to be received “no longer as a slave but more than a slave, a beloved brother” (Philmn 16).

The Colossians have received instructions about “Mark the cousin of Barnabas”; they are to welcome him if he comes (Col 4:10). This is the same Mark that Paul didn’t want to bring along on his second missionary journey (Acts 15:36-39). A reconciliation behind the scenes of the New Testament.

“My coworkers for the kingdom of God” (Col 4:11). As Christians, this is what we are called to be and to do: working together in Jesus’ way of love to see God’s reign come on earth as it is in heaven, God’s reign of true justice and lasting peace and flourishing life for all people.

“Luke, the beloved physician” (Col 4:14). This is the traditional author of the third Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles. We have no solid way of confirming this, but there’s also no good reason to doubt this tradition.

“Nympha and the church in her house” (Col 4:15). Women served as patrons, deacons, teachers, and even apostles in the early church (see Rom 16:1-7). However we understand prohibitions against women having authority (e.g. 1 Tim 2:12), in practice women had much authority—and should still have.

Paul wrote a letter to the Laodiceans, yet we don’t have such a letter (Col 4:16). Was this lost? Or was it, perhaps, the letter to Philemon, or to the Ephesians? Regardless, we know of at least two other letters Paul wrote which have been lost to us, to the Corinthians (see 1 Cor 5:9; 2 Cor 2:3-4).

“I, Paul, write this greeting with my own hand” (Col 4:18). Common practice: hire a scribe to prepare the papyrus and ink, take notes, and write out the letter. The author, then—if able—would write a short greeting in their hand. In Gal 6:11 Paul contrasts his large writing with that of the scribe.

“Grace be with you” (Col 4:18). Paul normally ends his letters with a benediction such as this, often longer. “Grace” is Paul’s shorthand for the unearned gifts of God, given to us in Jesus, given through the presence of the Spirit.

Grace be with you, my friends.

© Michael W. Pahl

What is Paul’s salvation story?

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What is Paul’s salvation story?

No, I don’t mean his personal story of meeting Jesus and being called by him—though for Paul that story is part of the larger story I’m referring to. I mean Paul’s cosmic salvation story, his big-picture narrative of salvation, what it is he believes salvation is all about.

This is important to discern, because for many Christians (especially evangelicals) the Apostle Paul is the go-to for understanding salvation, the GOAT for explaining the gospel. This is not an easy story to discern, however, because Paul never simply lays out a salvation narrative—he’s written a bunch of letters, each of which is dealing with specific situations faced by his first readers and himself. Scholars continue to debate whether we can even discern a larger salvation narrative from Paul’s writings, let alone what that story might be.

However, scholars are pretty well united on what that grand story of salvation for Paul is not—and this isn’t good news for the conservative evangelicals who typically narrate salvation in this way.

Paul’s story of salvation is not that the goal of human existence is to get to heaven when we die, avoiding an eternity of conscious torment in punishment for our sins. It’s not that Jesus came to earth solely to save us from this fate and bring us to heaven after death. It’s not that Jesus took our place on the cross, taking the punishment that was due us, as God poured out God’s wrath on Jesus on the cross. It’s not that this “penal substitutionary atonement” is what allows us to go to heaven after death, if we believe that Jesus did this for us.

That’s not Paul’s salvation story.

I mentioned earlier that Paul’s salvation story was a “cosmic” story. I said that Paul’s salvation story isn’t merely about his own salvation, but that his individual story was part of a larger, cosmic story. This is important to note. Paul wouldn’t recognize the common evangelical Christian salvation story I’ve just told, because it’s far too individualistic—about Jesus dying for my sins on the cross, taking my place, so I can be with Jesus in heaven when I die—and not nearly big enough, not cosmic enough.

Here’s how I see Paul’s cosmic salvation story.

Humanity is under the sway of cosmic powers at work in the world, the greatest of which are sin and its inevitable partner-in-destruction, death. What we need is to be liberated from these powers and brought into a new age, an era where sin and death no longer hold sway, where instead we experience righteousness and life, along with the fruits of these: justice and peace and joy and more. For Paul, this is salvation; this is the kingdom of God.

As God’s Messiah, the Christ, Jesus has come from that new age into our world, to bring about God’s reign, God’s salvation. Though sinless—and thus not under the power of sin and death—he entered into our world of sin and death, and in faithfulness to God willingly suffered under sin and death on the cross. However, God raised Jesus from the dead, overturning death and opening the way for humanity to enter into his kingdom, the new age of righteousness and life, justice, peace, and joy. We become part of this new age as we align our faith with Jesus’ faithfulness, walking in his way of the cross through death into new life.

Our individual stories of salvation are thus part of this cosmic story of salvation. Paul’s come-to-Jesus moment was Paul being swept up into this cosmic story. My come-to-Jesus moment was me being swept up into this cosmic story. And that’s true for everyone who has ever aligned their faith with Jesus’ faithfulness, to walk in his way of the cross, his way of love.

And yes, this story does mean that when I die I can expect to be with Jesus, one day being raised from the dead like Jesus was. But it’s not about being saved from hell, but being liberated from sin and death. And the story of salvation is so much bigger than me being with Jesus someday. It’s cosmic in scope—with, one day, all creation even brought into harmony with Jesus’ way of cruciform love.

Something like this story better explains both the totality of Paul’s theology in his letters and the specific statements Paul makes along the way. It better explains the way Paul talks about the cross and Jesus’ death, as well as his statements on sin and death and Jesus’ resurrection. It also explains justification: we share in Jesus’ vindication (his “justification”) by God through his resurrection from the dead.

So don’t be ashamed of Paul’s gospel! It’s God’s saving power for all who believe, after all, liberation from the powers of sin and death coming for all who walk in Jesus’ faithful way of love. And, understood in this way, it complements well the other salvation stories told in the New Testament.

© Michael W. Pahl

Paul’s “Marxism”

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In this coming Sunday’s Epistle reading (2 Cor 5:7-15), we see Paul at his most “communist”:

“Now finish doing [the collection of money for the needy in Jerusalem], so that your eagerness may be matched by completing it according to your means. For if the eagerness is there, the gift is acceptable according to what one has—not according to what one does not have. I do not mean that there should be relief for others and pressure on you, but it is a question of a fair balance between your present abundance and their need, so that their abundance may be for your need, in order that there may be a fair balance. As it is written,

‘The one who had much did not have too much,
and the one who had little did not have too little.’”

Not exactly Marx: this is from “each according to their means” to each according to their needs. Yet the goals are similar: that no one should “have too much” and that no one should “have too little.”

These principles were not unique to Paul. They were seen in the earliest church as reflected in the early stories of Acts. “They would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need” (Acts 2:45). “There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need” (Acts 4:34-35).

James Tissot, The Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes

And the earliest Christians were simply following the example of Jesus, the Messiah who led a band of followers funded by women of means, who taught his followers to give generously in answer to prayer for “our (collective) daily bread,” and who distributed food freely and equitably to the needy (Luke 8:1-3; 6:30-38; 11:1-4; 9:10-17).

All this is a far cry from our day. In January 2019 Oxfam reported that the world’s 26 richest people had as much wealth as the poorest 50% (3.8 billion people). All reports during the pandemic indicate that the rich have only gotten richer while the poor have stayed the same or gotten poorer.

Is the church any better? When adjusted for scale (there are few billionaires in the church of any denomination) it’s hard to say we are. The wealthier among us often hold disproportionate power and influence. We who have comforts really, really like them, while those without might get a Facebook post from us or a few cans for the food bank or maybe a march to the Legislature.

This is not to burden any of us individually with the pressure of dealing with systemic poverty—systemic issues require systemic change. But are there things we can do individually, as families, even more as congregations, as MCM and MC Canada, to help us as a society take constructive steps toward real and lasting economic justice?

This is not Marxism—it is walking in the way of Jesus, who walked in the way of Moses and the Prophets.

Paul’s Impossible Credentials for Ministry

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In this coming Sunday’s Epistles reading, the Apostle Paul lays out this impossible list of ministry credentials for servants of God:

We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry, but as servants of God we have commended ourselves in every way: through great endurance, in afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger; by purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God; with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left; in honor and dishonor, in ill repute and good repute. We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet are well known; as dying, and see—we are alive; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, and yet possessing everything. (2 Cor 6:3-10)

It’s quite the list. And, as I said above, it’s rather impossible, at least all the time. Even Paul at times struggled with “patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love.” It’s also a dangerous list, for without good self-awareness and understanding of wider context, this list can nurture an ego-centric persecution complex that tramples the needs of the genuine poor and vulnerable around us.

Rembrandt, Paul in Prison

But as impossible and dangerous as these kinds of lists might be, they are helpful. They are good for us to reflect on as followers of Jesus. What afflictions have we actually endured for the sake of the gospel? How we have we shown genuine love in our ministry, or truthful speech? Are we too concerned for our reputation to be effective servants of God? Do we have too much, are we too comfortable, to make others rich in Christ out of our poverty?

Things Are Not as They Appear

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As I read the lectionary texts for this coming Sunday, one theme strikes me as tying all four texts together: things are not as they appear. Reality is often much different than it seems at face value. The truth often requires a deep dive beneath the surface.

There’s 1 Samuel 16, where the prophet Samuel is persuaded that Jesse’s son Eliab is God’s choice for Israel’s next king. After all, not only is Eliab the eldest son, worthy of double blessing, but he is strong and tall just like a king should be (like the first king, Saul, was, in fact—see 15:35 for how well that went). But God says no to Eliab, for “God does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but God looks on the heart.”

Then there’s Psalm 20, where we hear these words of David: “Some take pride in chariots, and some in horses, but our pride is in the name of the LORD our God. They will collapse and fall, but we shall rise and stand upright.” Military might and strength seems like it should be the way forward for an up-and-coming nation. Yet David insists that’s the wrong way to look on things. (Too bad he and later kings and queens forgot this.)

There’s also 2 Corinthians 5, where Paul comes straight out and says, “From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a ‘fleshly’ point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a ‘fleshly’ point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” No one, not even Jesus, can be taken at face value. It requires a “new creation” heart-change to see people for who they really are.

“The Parable of the Mustard Seed” by James Paterson

Finally, there’s Mark 4 with two of my favourite parables of Jesus, the Growing Seed and the Mustard Seed. These parables highlight the unexpected insignificance and inherent mystery of God’s reign, both in how it begins and how it grows. God’s dominion does not begin or grow like other royal reigns; it comes not through conquest or coercion, but through small acts of love in solidarity with the least in the world’s eyes.

These texts invite us to look beyond the surface of things, to dig a little deeper. They encourage us to see people for who they really are, not merely who they appear to be. They call us to look for the reign of God not in the powerful and mighty, not in the big and flashy, but in the small and insignificant things of life.

“Fully convinced”?

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“Being fully convinced that God was able to do what God had promised.”

These are the words that jump off the page for me as I look ahead to the lectionary texts for this coming Sunday. These come from Romans 4, Paul’s midrash on the Abrahamic covenant stories of Genesis 15 and 17. For Paul, this is a core element of the faith God desires of us.

“Being fully convinced that God is able to do what God has promised.”

I don’t think I have that kind of faith, or, at least, not often. “Fully convinced?” Hopeful, sure, that God will do what God has promised. Trusting in God through all things, regardless of what happens, yes. But “fully convinced”? That seems like a faith too great for mere mortals like me.

And then I remember the rest of Abraham’s story. Sure, at these moments of encounter with God, when God comes before him in awe and wonder, then Abraham could well have been “fully convinced that God was able to do what God had promised.” But the rest of the story shows us that Abraham was not always “fully convinced.” In fact, he sometimes wasn’t trusting in God at all.

It turns out Abraham was human after all. Just as human as the God-man Jesus, who wrestled with doubts in the Garden of Gethsemane. Just as human as you and me.

God is able to do what God has promised. That reality doesn’t depend on our faith or lack of faith. The invitation to faith is an invitation to rest in this reality. Let’s cherish our experiences of full conviction, for sure. But may we always be encouraged that even great examples of faith like Abraham, even our Lord Jesus, wrestled with doubt in times of uncertainty and distress. This, too, is faith.

Love Builds Up

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Looking ahead to this coming Sunday’s lectionary texts, I’m struck by the Apostle Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians 8.

It’s a fairly well known text, but a strange one. Paul is dealing with the issue of meat that has been sacrificed to a god or goddess in one of Corinth’s many temples. Corinthian Christians could get this meat at a discount in the local market. Should they buy it? Should they eat it? Should they eat it if someone offers it to them in their home? Should they attend a feast in one of these temples, and eat this meat there? (Should I eat it in a house? Should I eat it with a mouse?)

We all know what it’s like to live and worship together with others who have different religious sensibilities than ours. The thing that really matters to that person might not matter at all to me. But then there’s that thing which I think is really important—why can’t this person see how important it is? So much of church life is navigating these diverse sensibilities, around liturgy, mission, theology, and whether Henry should really be the one leading the singing over Zoom since God knows he can never hit those high E-flats.

The words that struck me this time are the words Paul opens with: “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. Anyone who claims to know something does not yet have the necessary knowledge; but anyone who loves God is known by God.”

How often does my knowledge, my certainty that I am right, puff me up in arrogant condescension of others? How often, then, do I miss the knowledge which is really most necessary—the knowledge of God through love? When we act in love for God—devotion to God through compassion for others—then we find we not only know God truly, we are truly and fully known by God.

Faith and Works

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From December 2017 through February 2018, I wrote a series of short articles for MennoMedia’s Adult Bible Study Online. Over three weeks I am reproducing those here in my blog. Here is the article for February 4, 2018, based on James 2:14-26.

As the Adult Bible Study student guide notes, it’s possible that James was responding to a misunderstanding of Paul’s teaching about being justified by faith and not by works of the Law. In fact, given the similarities in wording between specific statements in Paul’s letters (Rom 3:28; Gal 2:16) and here (Jas 2:24), this is likely the case. Some had understood Paul to mean that our actions don’t matter with regard to salvation—all that matters is believing certain things to be true. Sadly, many Christians today also understand Paul’s teaching this way—and they either accept this teaching as gospel or reject Paul as having distorted Jesus’ teaching.

It’s a common misunderstanding of Paul’s teaching, that “faith” is simply “belief,” mentally assenting to certain truths—that Jesus died for our sins and rose again, for example. However, the word for “faith (pistis) can have a wide range of meanings. It can include “belief,” but it can also mean “trust,” “faithfulness,” or “allegiance.” Paul in fact draws on this whole semantic range of the word pistis: yes, believing certain things to be true is important, but so is trusting in God in a personal way, as well as showing faithfulness and demonstrating allegiance to God. This is underscored by the many ways Paul speaks about genuine faith as that which works itself out in loving actions (e.g. Gal 5:6).

James gives two examples of these “loving actions” that result from genuine faith: caring for the poor (2:1-9, 14-17), and protecting the foreigner (2:25-26). This is significant for at least two reasons.

First, these are prominent themes throughout the Scriptures. Concern for the poor, including the widow and orphan, and concern for the foreigner or stranger, is deeply embedded in the Law of Moses and repeatedly voiced by the Prophets (e.g. Lev 19:10, 34; Deut 15:7-11; Isa 1:17; Jer 22:3). This concern for the poor and the stranger, representing the most vulnerable in society, continues through the teaching of Jesus and the rest of the New Testament (e.g. Matt 25:34-40; Rom 12:13; Gal 2:10; 1 John 3:17).

Second, this is significant because these continue to be prominent needs—and controversial flashpoints—today. Somehow, in certain conservative Christian circles, caring for the poor and welcoming the stranger, or calling on governments to attend to these needs, has become a sign of theological liberalism. But can we claim to have genuine, living, saving faith, yet refuse to stand with the poor and the foreigner, with all who are vulnerable and marginalized in society? Both James and Paul—following in the footsteps of Jesus, following the Law and the Prophets—are clear: the answer is a resounding “no.”

The Difference between Gods and God

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From December 2017 through February 2018, I wrote a series of short articles for MennoMedia’s Adult Bible Study Online. Over the next three weeks I will reproduce those here in my blog. Here is the article for December 17, 2017, based on Acts 14.

The Bible has a complicated relationship with the “gods” of this world. Some biblical texts suggest that there are in fact other deities beyond the God of Israel. Other texts suggest these other “gods” aren’t true deity at all—there is only one true and living God. Some biblical passages describe other gods as “demons” and call on God’s people to avoid these demonic beings at all costs. Other biblical passages seem to view at least some other gods as reflections, albeit imperfect or incomplete reflections, of the one true and living God.

Ancient peoples tended to name as “gods” those realities which they believed had power over them and so required their passive submission, their pious veneration, or even their total allegiance. We in the modern west might not use the language of “gods” to describe these powerful realities, but they are still with us. Political ideologies, economic systems, nationalism and materialism and racism and more—all with their founding mythologies and sacred rituals and mediating priesthoods—hold sway over us in various ways, calling for our submission, our veneration, and even our allegiance.

Within this matrix of many “gods” and “lords,” whether ancient or modern, stands this word from the Apostle Paul, perhaps reflecting a common early Christian confession: “There is no God but one. Indeed, even though there may be so-called gods in heaven or on earth—as in fact there are many gods and many lords—yet for us there is one God, the Father, from whom are all things and for whom we exist, and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist” (1 Cor 8:4-6).

What might it mean for us today to turn from the “gods” of our day to the one true God, to live as if God alone really is the one “from whom are all things and for whom we exist”? What might it mean for us today to confess that “Jesus is Lord” and no one or nothing else is “lord,” to live as if Jesus alone truly is the one “through whom are all things and through whom we exist”?

And are we willing, like Paul in Lystra, to call the world to allegiance to the one true God and Lord even if it means suffering in the way of Jesus?

Who or What Is in Control?

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From December 2017 through February 2018, I wrote a series of short articles for MennoMedia’s Adult Bible Study Online. Over the next three weeks I will reproduce those here in my blog. Here is the article for December 10, 2017, based on Acts 13:1-12.

Acts 13:6-12 is a story of identity and power.

Names are important in the story. There’s Bar-Jesus (“son of Jesus”) also called Elymas (“the sorcerer”), and “Saul also called Paul,” as well as Sergius Paulus (that is, also “Paul”). It can be confusing, but all this narrative naming boils down to this question: which of these is a true “son of Jesus,” and which is actually a “son of the devil”? This is a story of identity.

It’s also a story of power. On the one hand you’ve got Elymas cozying up to the powerful, seeking to use the powers that be (both human and supernatural) for his own ends. On the other hand there’s Paul speaking truth to power, the truth of the gospel, the good news of One who died at the hands of the powers that be to free us from all evil powers (both natural and spiritual).

Even Paul participates in a display of supernatural power, speaking a temporary blindness upon Elymas. Yet notice what wins over the proconsul Paulus in the end: “When the proconsul saw what had happened, he believed, for he was amazed at the teaching about the Lord” (13:12). It was the persuasive gospel, not coercive sorcery, that brought about change. It was the strange story of a crucified king, not the sheer force of a supernatural power, that saved the day.

We have many temptations today to seek or maintain worldly power. This is especially so when our lofty plans for bringing about good in the world seem to be thwarted. We can then become frustrated and impatient, and start to look for alternate ways to accomplish those good ends. If only we had some real power on our side, imagine all the good we could do! If only we had political control, judicial authority, economic clout, cultural influence, spiritual dominance, or even just sheer physical force, imagine what we could accomplish for the kingdom!

But this is not the way of Jesus, who deliberately rejected worldly power at both the beginning and end of his career (Matt 4:1-11; 26:36-56). It’s not the way of the gospel, the beautiful good news of a crucified and resurrected king bringing about an upside-down kingdom through patient, persistent, selfless love.

In the end, it is those who trust in and live out this “weak power” of God (1 Cor 1:21-25) who prove themselves to be the true “Bar-Jesus.”