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2 / Worship Against the World for the Sake of the World1

The first followers of Christ learned to live out their faith in an imperial age when assigning the title of lord to anyone other than Caesar was to commit a radical act of sedition. To concur with Jesus’ claim that God’s reign was preeminently and ultimately sovereign over all creation was to deny that role to any other entity. Rome, and more specifically Caesar, was accustomed to a transcendent place in its world; to assign ultimacy to any other was to diminish Caesar and to relegate the authority of Roman rule to lower standing. Yet these Christians used precisely that language in declaring their fidelity: Jesus Christ is Lord.

Challenges to Rome’s hegemonic impulse and Caesar’s rule were nothing new. The Romans took on all challengers, always confident of their ability to exert their will. All claims against them were summarily rebuked with force, generally with great success and even greater fanfare. Any victorious refutation of a calculating challenger or a rising rebellion made for useful propaganda across the imperial domain. Rome’s story was legend, its power mythical, and its heroes divine. Force was also used against these who followed this new king Jesus the Christ, and within a few decades the hints of decline for Rome’s rule would become evident.

Jesus’ life, ministry, and teachings offered a vastly different view of the beginning, course, and ending of history. Christ’s proclamation of God’s coming reign over all creation ultimately would demand acknowledgement from Rome and its supposedly divine Caesar. The post-resurrection, post-ascension followers who aligned themselves with a new community, born in the sweeping Spirit-event of Pentecost, were bound together under a new allegiance to an eternal Sovereign.

From the outset, these new followers of Christ found themselves at odds with the prevailing culture of their day. Their understanding of the source, meaning, and end of life was radically different. Their identity evolved within a larger, even diverse, society. Yet they were not capriciously radical, at least not in the way revolutionaries historically assail the establishment. This new Way was radical to the core of all things, energized by a conception of reality distinct from Rome’s. “[R]adicalism arises because [of an] understanding of the very meaning of the world [that] differs, often sharply, from the understanding of the dominant culture.”2 The Way of Jesus Christ was a rival for the prize of determining the ultimacy of meaning to all things, not for control of the empire. Revolutionaries tend to covet the opportunity to reinvent the reality within which they live. These new Christians were living a radical new reality, not merely a reinvention of the existing one.

Standing ahead of Christ’s followers in the matter of resistance to imperial claims of ultimacy was a long heritage of Jewish culture and history. This was the story of Israel, whose covenant heritage with the Creator-God called for the formation of a nation. An element of the character of this covenant was that Israel was to be distinct from all the other nations on the face of the earth. That the journey of this nation, which was to be light to all other nations, had taken a divergent path from its original establishment did not diminish the high calling to a distinct way of being in the world. In the narrative of the first testament the Jewish nation was to be forever allied intensely with the Lord God, in whom its liturgical and political identities were inextricably bound.

Jesus’ radical claims about a new kingdom were prefigured by a long-standing anticipation that God would send a Messiah to restore the vibrancy of the Israelite nation. Jesus’ life and ministry on earth developed in a hotbed of zealotry. Resistance to Roman rule was evident, as was opposition to co-oppression by elite Jewish citizens and even the temple leaders who lorded it over the common folk of Judea and Galilee.3 Resistance to worldly sovereigns of any sort—Roman or otherwise—was not easy, nor was it always deemed appropriate. Yet resistance found a source of encouragement in Israelite understanding that God and God alone was king, a concept well delineated in the Mosaic covenant and the historic governance of these people.

For Israelites who attempted to honor the Law faithfully, worshiping this God properly meant refusing deific standing to any other god or gods. In like manner, for these new people of God in the first century, attention to God in Christ challenged their allegiance to all worldly entities and persons. “Properly understood, worship of God, and of Jesus as the unique divine Son of the one God, also involve[d] withholding of worship and unqualified obedience from any other who may claim it.”4

The temptation to serve other gods adored by other nations haunted Israel from its earliest beginnings. The nation’s collective infidelity was idolatry with political as well as religious implications. This was “a nation seeking security from . . . pagan god[s], rather than from Yahweh.”5 In one sentinel example of the nation’s tendency to refute its true identity, the elders of Israel asked Samuel, “Give us a king to govern us.”6 The Lord clarified to Samuel that the people were rejecting the Lord as their sovereign. The people were unconvinced by God’s cautionary explanation about the likely consequences of such an arrangement. The people were adamant in their refusal to hear Samuel saying “‘No!’ but we are determined to have a king over us, so that we also may be like all the other nations . . .’” (emphasis mine).7 Ancient Israel’s desire to “be like all the other nations” led to a catastrophic period in their history. Their idolatry in this instance was not that they chose to be political rather than non-political. It was, rather, that they chose to trade the politics of their national identity as the people of God for the political modes of nations that did not follow the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The Judeans and Galileans among whom Jesus lived were acquainted with an established, if not always successful, tradition of anti-imperial patterns of action. Yet Christ’s followers would come to a completely different comprehension of the ways and means of life. That comprehension exhibited itself in their manner of living, speaking, and relating to all persons and entities around them. They accepted their new minority status willingly, stepping to the margins of the prevailing society in order to follow Jesus. Ironically, they became a force that required response. Their quiet refusal to affirm the religious status quo served notice of their fidelity to this new communal identity. These Christ-followers took exception to Rome’s imperial narrative of the past, present, and the future of the world. They chose to follow Christ in a radical engagement of the world as defined by the Roman establishment, the culture it engendered, and of formalistic Judaism itself.

The centerpiece of world domination prior to, during, and for three centuries following the life of Jesus Christ was the Roman Empire. At the Empire’s core was the imperial cult—for all intents and purposes what might be called a state church—which represented the sum total of Rome’s values and essence bound up in the identity of Caesar. The cult’s stories, celebrations, and symbols combined to create a sacrosanct myth designed to reinforce Roman rule. To the extent that rule could be kept by captivating the imaginations—and thus the lives and loyalties—of the people, Roman rule could be relatively peaceful and benevolent. To the extent that peoples’ imaginations—and thus their lives and loyalties—were resistant to the myth, Roman rule was willing and capable of being coercive and cruel, in deadly measure if necessary.

Caesar’s identity was highly venerated in as much as the imperial cult had religious as well as political dimensions. Messianic language was not uncommon in honoring even Caesar since he was acknowledged as the source of security and peace. It was not uncommon for Caesar to be called savior and lord.8 The act of proclaiming that anyone other than Caesar was lord was, therefore, not just an act of treason. It was also a statement of religious disloyalty. To acknowledge there was another king, one named Jesus, was beyond doubt a daring act.

Any attempt to understand Jesus apart from this political milieu results in an abridged notion of the fullness of Jesus’ life, teachings, and ministry. It is necessary to understand that “early Christian reverence of Christ was at the same time a religious act and also one with profound political connotations and consequences.”9 The political climate of Jesus’ day, as well as that of his followers in the early years of the ekklesia, provides us a proper context for hearing the teachings of Jesus with their political connotation intact. Yet these political associations do not trade on the power of worldly entities, but find their influence revealed within the sovereignty of God guided by God’s Spirit.

The genesis of ekklesia was predicated upon Christ’s commissioning statement and the promise of the coming of Holy Spirit not long following his ascension.10 Certainly the incarnation of God in Christ and the remarkable arrival of Holy Spirit at Pentecost constituted a singularly unified theophany. Yet the necessity of God’s presence was a persistent reality in the story of ancient Israel. Moses recognized the significance of God’s presence while interceding on behalf of Israel following the nation’s idolatry of the golden calf. Regarding the utter necessity of God’s presence, Moses said, “In this way, we shall be distinct, I and your people, from every people on the face of the earth.”11 In this moment, Moses identifies a prime characteristic of God’s people: they will be unique among all peoples, and God’s presence is essential to that uniqueness.

The narrative of the establishment of the church gives abundant evidence of the effects of God’s presence through Holy Spirit.12 The startling manifestation of the Spirit in, among, and through Christ’s followers huddled together following his ascension resulted in a bold multi-lingual proclamation of the gospel resulting in numerous conversions. Peter’s sermon began with Joel’s prophecy regarding the pouring out of God’s Spirit and culminated in serving notice to the Jews that God had make Jesus Christ to be both Lord and Messiah, the very Jesus they crucified. With more than three thousand new converts, they began a distinct communal journey characterized by gracious unity, attention to the apostle’s teaching, provision for the needs of all, and the praise of God. They were held in good esteem by other people, and their numbers increased.

One of the key lessons of Acts is that God’s Holy Spirit will not make Christ’s followers more like the world—only more and more capable of enacting and embodying the gospel as a sign to the world that the kingdom of God has come near. At every turn, the proclamation of the message regarding Jesus Christ stood in stark contrast to the values of the culture within which Christ’s followers lived. In many of these instances, as well as throughout the early centuries of the expansion of the church, the gospel was increasingly repelled if not rejected, and Christ’s followers were persecuted and even martyred. Regardless of such forceful dismissal of the message and messengers of Christ, the gospel spread throughout the whole of the Roman imperium, and ultimately beyond.

In one instance Paul and Silas arrived in Thessalonica.13 Paul preached Jesus as Messiah on three Sabbaths, proclaiming to all in attendance that it had been necessary for Jesus to suffer and die. While some of these Jews joined Silas and Paul in following the Christ, others gathered some ruffians to stir up the crowd against them. Unable to locate the two itinerate preachers, they went to the house of Jason—a person of faith, we assume, who had been hospitable to Paul and Silas—and took him before the city authorities. The crowd was shouting that Paul and Silas were among those whose message about the Christ was turning the world upside down. The concept of turning the world upside down was a common accusation of anyone acting in a seditious manner against Roman rule. They were threatening the status quo, and the local citizens were anything but pleased. Even more so, the charges this crowd brought against Paul and Silas were political in character: “They are all acting contrary to the decrees of the emperor, saying there is another king named Jesus.” It would appear even those who stood against these Christians were well aware of the political implications of the teachings of this Jesus and the words and actions of his followers.

Rome and its Caesar had seen many challengers come and go, yet the issue here is not just that Jesus was being proclaimed as a competing sovereign. “In confessing Jesus as ‘the Lord’ and ‘the Son of God’, these early Christians unavoidably, and often quite knowingly, denied this sort of status to the Roman ruler.”14 God was present fully in Jesus Christ to proclaim the eventual replacement of all worldly rulers and regimes. Jesus’ assertions, echoed by his followers, challenged Caesar’s imperial as well as divine status. In so doing, they also disputed the foundation and authority of all worldly kingdoms. In light of Jesus’ claims, Caesar was forced to promote himself as a messiah in order to save the world as he knew it; prosperity and safety—his own as well as that of the Empire—were at stake. Salvation for the realm had come from Caesar. On the other hand, Jesus declared salvation was at hand in the initiation of the kingdom of God.

One need only look at the nature of Jesus’ death from the imperial perspective to gain an appreciation for the political repercussions of his life, teachings, and ministry. Roman rulers were quick to dispose of any movements or claimants to rule even faintly posing a threat to the imperial order. The placard on Jesus’ cross attested to the threat he posed to the prevailing powers. The notice proclaiming that he was “the king of the Jews” was more than sarcasm. The Roman Empire was silencing another contender to its sovereignty and to its Caesar’s divinity (even if they did so with the complicity of Jewish religious leaders).

Whether Jewish or Gentile by physical birth, these participants in the first ekklesia cast a silhouette of a story of radical citizenship across the world’s stage, one differing vastly from the prevailing worldview. Ekklesia was a rather common term, used to denote a gathering of citizens in a Greek city-state for the purposes of making both political and judicial decisions. They chose this political nomenclature to describe their unified identity. Christ had called them from the world, and their choice of this word “made a radical declaration about their relationship to God and to the world.”15 They came to understand they had a new citizenship.16 One can scarcely make any claim regarding citizenship without being political. To ignore the explicit use of political imagery17 by these first followers of Christ is to diminish the emerging influence of their embryonic community. Disregarding such imagery weakens the gospel as well. While further commentary on the politicality of Jesus follows below, suffice it to say at this point that a depoliticized Jesus is a deficient Jesus.

These first followers of Christ carried about in their living the very radicality to which God had called them. Yet since the early days of the ekklesia, a variety of influences throughout the centuries has systematically truncated that radicality. One result is the church has been all too willing to accept a redefined ecclesiology, denying its prophetic and apostolic roots in favor of a more culturally accommodating posture. Another result is the church’s worship has become shrouded by interwoven agendas only dimly consistent with the gospel.

Deep into the evening preceding Christ’s arrest, trial, crucifixion, and death, Jesus prayed to his Father that those who would follow him would be able to be in the world, but not of the world.18 Every word of Jesus is charged with the force of eternity, and this is no mere thought spoken lightly. Within this concept, which is anything but a finely nuanced distinction, lies an allusion to the nature of the gospel. It also defines the character of those who worship God incarnate in Christ. It demarcates the church’s dynamic and creative engagement with the world. The church’s most daring and effectual engagement will occur through a proper interpretation of what it means to be in but not of the world. The question is not if the followers of Christ will engage the world; it is, rather: What will be the nature of that engagement?

In one sense, the gospel tells us of God in Christ taking a radical stand against the world. Again, “Jesus Christ is the supreme divine intrusion into the world’s settled arrangements.”19 These “settled arrangements” are the world’s ways of operating and organizing itself which, at best, are only dimly consistent with truth. Christ’s stories, miracles, and conversations with people were provocative challenges to the prevailing ways of the world. His death on the cross is evidence enough that his challenges did not go unnoted. His resurrection gave birth to a tidal-wave movement which merely reinforces the impact of the intrusive nature of Christ’s gospel. In this sense, the gospel is radical; it challenges the world and the world’s ways of being at every point.

Yet it is part of the paradox of the gospel that God in Christ also takes a radical stand on behalf of the world. Christ is an advocate before God for the world. God came in Christ to make the good news of God’s reign clear if not comprehensible. The reconciling work of Christ changes everything and offers redemption and restoration to all of creation.20

Understanding the gospel requires acknowledging the dual impulses of “in but not of.” The gospel makes radical claims on our lives, and we become followers of Jesus. And like Jesus, Christ’s followers make choices against the world as well as acting on behalf of the world, living the gospel—the good news—into the world. The church exists for the glory of God and for the sake of the world, a dialectic balance requiring the church to be in the world without being of the world.

These dynamically corresponding impulses—in but not of the world—have been identified as “The Twin Forces of Christian History.””21 These two forces both find their source within the gospel itself, and must be held in continuous tension. The first is the “indigenizing principle . . . a homing instinct, which creates in diverse communities a sense that the church belongs there” (emphasis mine).22 The second is the “pilgrim principle that creates within the Christian community the sense that it is not fully at home in this world, so that it comes into tension with its society from its loyalty to Christ” (emphasis mine).23 The jeopardy in the first without sufficient measure of the second allows the church and its gospel to become too much “at home” in the culture within which it exists. The hazard of the second without sufficient measure of the first is that the church might isolate itself and its gospel from the culture within which it exists. In either case the church’s witness and the gospel’s influence are diminished, one because of a lack of distinction from the culture, the other because it is too far removed for viable persuasion. The greater danger is not to have too much of either impulse—only to have too little of one or the other.

Faithful worship and the church’s liturgy, defined as the work of the people of God, will intensify rather than abate the dynamic tension of in but not of. Such worship will shape participants for living both the indigenizing and pilgrim principles of the gospel. The gospel expressed faithfully through the lives of Christ’s followers will always challenge the world’s “settled arrangements” and serve the world for the world’s sake.

Any examination of the biblical record reveals the radical nature of all encounters with the God of Israel incarnate in Christ. Descriptions of encounters with God throughout history reveal the Lord God to be graciously confrontational. If followers of Christ respond faithfully to these radical encounters, the world will perceive the church—and its subsequent engagement with the world—as radical. As bearers of the message of Christ his followers are likely to threaten the status quo, turning the world upside down as it were, as per the assessment of the citizens of Thessalonica after Silas and Paul came to town. The church’s presentation of an alternative way of being in the world will challenge the world’s ways of being, its “settled arrangements.”