They'll Know We Are Christians By [You Fill in the Blank]

One of the closing songs we sang a few weeks ago at church was the classic "They'll Know We Are Christians".  The song is certainly biblical in its message and context, remains contemporary  in any age of the church, and has not suffered the same notoriety associated with other oldies such as Kumbaya.  And we know the way the song goes, paraphrasing as it does from John 13:35...the world (they) will know that we are truly followers of Jesus by our love.

Sadly, however true and biblically sound the song may be, I found myself thinking as we sang it that the practical reality of our witness in the world has been badly tarnished and the words seemed empty to me.  It is no longer true that the world knows that we proclaim to be followers of Jesus by the demonstration of our love.  They know we are "Christians" by our judgment, by our enforced isolation in our little enclaves, by our separation from the culture around us, by our dogmatic lecturing on a handful of issues, and by our legislative initiatives.  I always heard that it was very difficult to get a Christian to explain what they were for, but that they were never at a loss to explain what they were against.

How did we ever stray that far from the new commandment given by Jesus Himself as He faced the ultimate giving of Himself in love for the world He had created and now intended to deliver from futility and darkness?  The theme of love is scattered throughout the writings of the Apostle John.  Besides the recording of Jesus's words in his gospel, John writes " We know that we have passed from death to life because we love..." (I John 3:14; "Beloved let us love one another, for love is of God, and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God..." (I John 4:7);  "Beloved, if God so loved us, we also ought to love one another..." (I John 4:20); and  "Now I plead with you...not as though I wrote a new commandment to you but one which we have had from the beginning, that we love one another..." (II John 5).  You get the picture.

Church tradition speaks of John in his latter years, and consistently indicate that he was a broken record, always exhorting his audience, "My little children, love one another."  When pressed as to why he preached the same sermon over and over, it is recorded in that tradition that he replied, "Because it is the commandment of the Lord, and if we can attain only this one thing, it will be enough."  Perhaps in this Christmas season we need to be reminded that the entire message of the season is one, ongoing demonstration of the love of God towards the world He created, and then perhaps we can lay aside not just the sin that so easily besets us, but the prejudice and the doctrinal arguments and the righteous judgments that most easily beset us, and then let us run the race that is set before us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who exhorted us above all to love.  

The Turn of the Cycle, First Sunday of Advent

Once again the cycle turns and I find myself at the beginning.  And as I sat in church on the First Sunday of Advent I recognized that the Jews, and then the Christians, had it right when they formed their calendars.  There was always what I would call a secular calendar marking time based on days and cycles and seasons, and there was a second calendar, a sacred calendar, marking time based on the presence and action of God in the work of deliverance and reconciliation.  Despite this dual marking or remembrance of time, we tend to order our lives by the secular calendar with seasons bracketed by holidays, vacations, deadlines, paychecks, appointments, retirement, and dozens of other mile markers.  And that calendar, the secular one, tends to be so filled up that it's easy to forget the sacred, the spiritual ordering of our minds, hearts, and souls that should somehow be more real and meaningful.   The world moves on, year after year, but even as it does God is still at work, still present.  And it should be the sacred calendar that brings us back to the underlying reality of what is true and right in our lives.

That is why I begin each year by buying a new calendar book, one that is formatted to fit the secular year from January 1 to December 31, one that has all of the pre-printed reminders of things the publishers feel we ought to be aware of.  Some are useless; for instance, why give me four years of important dates reminding me that New Year's Day is on January 1 each year.  Some are bizarre; who did lobby to get Administrative Professionals Day started and put on the calendar?  And a few are useful; for instance, knowing when Canada Day was would have prevented me from visiting the Canadian side of Niagara Falls on that day with all of the other thousands of Canadians.  But what I do with this new calendar is immediately pencil in the liturgical calendar for the year, placing the dates and seasons that have to do with God's work within our world, and, by extension, God's work within my life.  Thus it is I find myself back at the beginning of the old, old story with a full four weeks until the end of the secular year.  And it is my hope that I receive the story fresh and new as it begins its retelling, and that I find my own life once again woven into its context and storyline.