As our feeding on Scripture takes us to Peter’s first letter, we sense its recipients working through the tough experiences of what last post we termed `exile’. They’re facing pressure from the authorities; marriages that are in poor shape; working relationships that are entirely unjust. Plenty of problems; and the context Peter writes to doesn’t seem marked by miraculous solutions as does, say, Acts.
So what do we learn from this, that can bless us when we too go through tough times?
A first question then: what emphases do we find as Peter launches his letter? Peter matches his opening greeting to his overall `exile` theme: he writes to those who are `strangers` (or `exiles`) `in the world, scattered’ (1:1). But then he focuses immediately on their (our!) profound source of security: they – we – are `God’s elect’, actually `chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father’ (a phrase worth thinking about when we reflect on predestination, by the way; cf Rom 8:29). And alongside that comes another striking point: the whole Trinity is involved with us in our times of exile (v2). (Father: thankyou!) Then thirdly we may spot something slightly more surprising: the focus of what we’re `sanctified for’ here is not forgiveness but obedience to Jesus Christ (v2)….
As we go on reading, we may well decide that, when Peter thinks of `salvation’, what matters to him is our entire, obedient journey through the world, and indeed (see v5) its heavenly culmination; rather than just the initial moment of new birth, crucial though that is. (If, as we’ll suggest, the Exodus is very much in Peter’s mind as he writes, then it becomes important that the central `Exodus-moment’ of deliverance had meaning insofar as it was the beginning of a journey, a process, through the wilderness and to the promised land.) Alternatively, we may conclude that he’s using `obedience to Christ’ in v2 as a technical term for our new birth, because real conversion, real `new birth` (v3), is a moment of profoundly `obeying the truth’ (vv22-23), a repentance that commits to deep, lifelong obedience by the grace of God. Either way, it is from an `empty way of life‘ (v18) that we’ve been redeemed, tough though it sometimes is, and into a meaningful way of life, obeying and following Jesus, that we’re being brought; even in exile.
So that’s his introduction, and there are three things there to turn into prayer.
And then: what are the main ideas as he moves on into the first part of his message (vv3>12)? It’s worth reading through the next few verses and then seeking to list them and turn them into worship and prayer. I’m listing four.
First – exactly as with Paul – we find an outburst of praise here at the beginning. Why? Psychologically, because the deliberate choice to praise is vital for staying alive in `exile`. (An important lesson for us!) But praise for what in particular? The focus for praise that’s immediately meaningful for Peter is our `new birth into a living hope’. It’s striking to see how instantly Peter’s mind goes to the new birth, because sometimes the older type of liberal churchman or religious journalist talks as if being `born again’ was merely a concern for `fringe fundamentalists’. It isn’t; it’s as central to the Christianity of Peter (see also v23) as it was to the message of Jesus (John 3:3-8). `Thank you, Lord, for leading me to new birth!`
And then secondly – Peter’s mind moves on to the other end, the goal, of the salvation-process, the `inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade, kept in heaven for you… the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice!’ (vv4-6). A `living hope`, a grasp of this future reality – not just an intellectual assent, but a heart-grasp expressed in joy and in (v3) praise – is key to our survival!
Right here at the start, then, Peter confronts us with what we also see in (eg) 1 Thessalonians 5:8 and Hebrews 6:19: the sheer centrality of our hope of heaven as our `helmet’, our `anchor’. It’s astonishing that we evangelicals can sometimes be so ashamed of heaven, seeing it as part of an embarrassing 19th-century spirituality. The fact is, of course, that we’ve lost our nerve. We’ve grown over-defensive after liberal accusations that our faith is only about `pie in the sky when you die’. And in our concern to reaffirm God’s kingdom this side of death, we’ve grown embarrassed by the afterlife. But deep faith in heaven doesn’t contradict deep commitment to world evangelism, or passionate evangelical concern about the arms trade or the quality of education in our inner cities. (In fact, if we look closely at the inner-city churches we’ll probably find that deep faith in heaven is what keeps many of their members alive.) One suspects there’s another factor too. Particularly in the mainline denominations and the seminaries that serve them, evangelicals have had to spend so much energy defending the very core of supernaturalism – the virgin birth, the resurrection, the ascension – that a weariness arises at having to take responsibility for aspects of biblical supernaturalism which may not seem so vital. And so these get down-played, almost out of fatigue.
In the end, of course, it won’t do. The human being is built for the supernatural and for heaven; and if we don’t find it where God intended, then our hearts make us look elsewhere. Too many churches and seminaries adapted their image to avoid scandalizing the late-19th-century mechanistic worldview that has dominated liberal mainline churches ever since; but as a result we’ve been ill-equipped to handle the challenge of the postmodern era, and `New Age’ spiritualities with their sometimes nonsensical responses to our hearts’ genuine longings. The flourishing of alternative spiritualities should have reminded us that we’re built to be `hungry for heaven’; and as Nigel Lee put it in the IFES magazine In Touch, if that hunger isn’t satisfied in the contemporary biblical vacuum, then we’ll turn to poisoned bread. The grasp of heaven is necessary for our whole psychological dynamic. It’s already obvious that, worldwide, the fastest-growing churches tend to be those which view the supernatural absolutely realistically; and failure at this level certainly won’t wash for the decades to come. Peter isn’t weak in this regard. So then for us: what does Peter know that the exiles need to hear first of all? Praise the Lord for a new birth that will take us to the glories of heaven! If we are `exiles`, we should do it!
And then a third major concern we may notice is (not surprisingly) the `trials’ we encounter, the power of God seeing us through, and the response and growth of true faith (vv5-7). Peter’s priorities here underline the reality we see in so many other epistles, Romans 8 for example: the `suffering’ of exile and the `glory’ of heaven go together like the two sides of a coin. (Look how they’re linked further in 1 Peter 1:11, 4:13-14, 5:1, or 5:10.) Lindsay Brown has pointed to the lack of a working theology of suffering as a major weakness in many charismatic churches; this binding together of suffering and glory is a key component for such a theology.
God values enormously the true faith that can pass through suffering. It belongs to `glory’, says Peter; the `all kinds of trials’ come `so that your faith – of greater worth than gold… – may be proved genuine, and may result in praise, glory and honour when Jesus Christ is revealed’ (1:7). It is faith that `stands firm to the end’ that truly belongs with this final `salvation’ (cf Matt 24:13), because such faith has been `proved genuine’, proved to be truly `not of perishable seed, but of imperishable’ (1 Peter 1:23). (Job would be the classic old testament example; and we see there how very greatly God values the faith that is `proved genuine’, since he doesn’t explain to Job that his calamities are caused by Satan. Rather (can we say?) God trusts Job to trust him `in the dark’; our process of learning faith is evidently of enormous worth.) What God has already done in us `imperishably’ guarantees what he will continue to do in us (cf Phil 1:6); we are not hanging on by our own power, we are kept by the power of God (1 Peter 1:5) – and that is something vital for people to know in persecution. Thank God for that! But what connects with that power on our side, what releases it into our lives, is faith: we `through faith are shielded by God’s power’ (v5). Again we see the centrality of `living by faith’ (or `by grace through faith’). Deliberate faith connects us with the grace that will keep us alive – which is why God values it so highly and wants it both proved and developed. (Father, please help me somehow in all circumstances to `live by faith’…)
Faith, then, for Peter, is our anchor. And now he moves on to a fourth thing: at the heart of this faith, energizing it, is a deep longing for our `inheritance’, for what is hidden but will surely be `revealed’ (Peter uses the word repeatedly, in v5, v7 and v13). Again, heaven, but also something greater still: full union at last with our Christ who we love but `do not see’ (v8). (Cf Phil 3:20-4:1: `Our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Saviour from there… That is how you should stand firm in the Lord, dear friends!’) There is an unashamedly emotional feel to Peter’s writing here: `Though you have not seen him, you love him…. You are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy!’ (v8). Isn’t this at the very core of Christianity – not just the way of salvation, or discipleship, or Christian lifestyle, or justice, or world evangelism, important though all these are, but passionate love for Christ? Some of us have to take a conscious step in permitting ourselves to express these feelings (Lord, right now I want to make myself say it: I love you and I worship you!); but how impoverished we are if we do not!
Heaven – and seeing Jesus, face to face, at last! As Peter says in 5:12: `This is the grace of God!’
