EPISODE TWELVE: TO BE PRISCILLAS
…you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession, to proclaim the virtues of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.
We return to the subject of suffering. I remember a conversation with a friend in Colombia who said that one of his colleagues was writing a book on suffering to counter a growing movement among believers in that country that Christians shouldn’t suffer, and that if they did, something was wrong with their faith!
Peter hadn’t gotten that memo. He wrote to those who, because of persecution, had been forced to leave everything behind and escape to places throughout the then-known world where they were foreigners in exile. In a way, Peter has encouraged them to keep a low profile, not by denying the faith they cling to in order to protect themselves from further persecution, but by limiting some aspects of the freedom they have in Christ so as not to “put off” those among whom they are living who don’t know Christ or who, as fellow believers, think differently than they do. This theme also appears in some of Paul’s writings.
They were to do good and be good to those around them, imitating Jesus, and making His message attractive to those with whom they had contact.
Peter ended our last episode by saying, “Who can harm you if you are zealous for what is good?” (1 Peter 3:13)
This feels a little “tongue-in-cheek” on Peter’s part. He knows from personal experience that much harm can come to those who live out their faith in Jesus, both in word and deed. But what kind of harm is he actually referring to?
After having said that, Peter launches into the longest single discourse in his letter to talk about the issue of suffering. He begins with this:
“But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. ‘Do not fear what they fear; do not be shaken.’ But in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give a defence to anyone who asks you the reason for the hope that is in you. But respond with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who slander you may be put to shame by your good behaviour in Christ. For it is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil.” (I Peter 3:14-17)
Peter quotes Isaiah 8:12, “Do not call conspiracy everything these people regard as conspiracy. Do not fear what they fear; do not live in dread…” (vss. 11-17). The context in Isaiah is significant. He is instructed that people will misinterpret what he says and does, call it a conspiracy, stumble over it, and be offended by it. But Isaiah is not to fear their reaction; instead, he is to trust in the only One who truly needs to be feared—God Himself. To sanctify Him is to hold Him as holy in all that we, as believers, say and do, even when we are under pressure not to.
I am going to do something different in this episode by encouraging you to slip on Priscilla’s sandals. Priscilla and her husband, Aquila, were among those “scattered” for a time, and they knew what it meant to live out their faith in a hostile world. What follows is a brief glimpse into what I imagine they felt as they were forced to become strangers and pilgrims in their day. Listen to Priscilla:
The order wasn’t unexpected. Still, when it came there was consternation, fear, sadness, doubt. Homes, communities, all the familiar things abandoned behind us, not because we chose to leave, but also not because the Romans chose to force us out. Though we regretted our losses as we walked away, we knew Someone greater was sending us elsewhere.
Our business had been thriving. However, as long as my husband had his tools we could start again anywhere. After all, people needed tents, and tents needed mending. But where was this “anywhere” to be? Christians and Jews alike were chased out of Rome, the city. But Rome was everywhere. Where could we go where its tentacles didn’t reach?
A few stayed behind. Even the threat of becoming living torches or fodder for lions refused to move them. If asked which of the gods they served, they would have to decide to die confessing Christ or deny ever knowing Him. We chose to go. Our place was not a catacomb or a coliseum. We knew there was something somewhere we still needed to do. It would be a dangerous path to travel with an uncertain end and little safety anywhere we went.
On the road there were other pilgrims like us. I will not call us refugees, though we were driven from our homes simply because we followed the Way. Physically, the provision of any shelter was doubtful, but we knew that we were sheltered by the Almighty whether we slept under the stars, in a cave, or in a tent. No, we were pilgrims on a journey, like Abraham before us. Called to become something new, formed by God for His glory because of His Son.
At first, we kept to ourselves even in company. Who knew if there were spies among us? Sometimes we encountered people we knew, but most were strangers. As time went on and distance stilled the anxious backward looks in search of pursuing soldiers, and as traveling companions became more familiar, each identified himself to the others. The sign was given, sometimes surreptitiously; sometimes, depending on the company, with more boldness. The upper half of the fish traced in the dirt. Another believer would know the symbol and trace the bottom half. Gradually like gravitated to like until we were confident in our new friends. Safety came, not in numbers, but sensing that around us the heavenly armies protected us from any earthly foes. We understood that they might be ordered to do otherwise but if so, we also knew that then they would escort us where no foe could ever touch us again.
In the evenings as we sat beside campfires and shared our meagre supplies, someone would start the song. The thin sound wafted on the breeze, strengthening as voices joined the chorus: I will sing of thy power; yea, I will sing aloud of thy mercy in the morning: for thou hast been my defence and refuge in the day of trouble…*
My husband and I talked in whispers in the quiet of the night while others slept. Where God might want us to go was often the discussion of choice. We prayed that He would guide us and gradually our path grew clearer. We must find Paul. Somehow our lives intersected with his, though we did not know then how that could be. We weren’t sure where he was though Corinth seemed like a good place to start. If he wasn’t there already surely Paul would eventually come to such a thriving centre. But it was a long hard journey to Corinth and the Roman scourge existed there too. Was there no safe place for us? Perhaps not, at least not what many would consider safe. But safety was not our destination, nor our destiny. The thoughts of the angels with the Almighty at their head quieted our hearts.
We faced the journey. Memories of things left behind lingered, the pull of longing dissipated. Ahead lay a purpose designed by God just for us. The path could lead us through big cities, small towns, villages, roadside camps, and yes, even to our graves. It really didn’t matter.
The song sprang again from grateful hearts as we set our feet once more on the road: I will sing of thy power; yea, I will sing aloud of thy mercy in the morning: for thou hast been my defence and refuge in the day of trouble…
He is all that and more.
*Psalm 59:16 (KJV)
The prophet Jeremiah got himself into trouble by insisting that the drought, famine, sword, and plague facing Judah had been sent by God as judgment on it for her sins. I am not Jeremiah. I am not a prophet, nor the daughter of one. But I believe the chaos we see around us has a purpose—if nothing else, to call us to repentance and to serve as a warning. We are set free by the blood of Jesus. To what are we set free? To be the Priscillas of our age, to live “Jesus” in a world that denies Him, to not be afraid, to hold Jesus up as holy, and to stay on mission because a time is coming when…
