Colossians 1:11-12 are part of the prayer of Paul for the church. Third, they pray, 11 May you be made strong with all the strength that comes from his glorious power. The power communicated to the faithful corresponds to the divine might from which it came. "Glory" is the majesty, power, and goodness of God. God's revelation to us is the highest strength. Theological virtues grow directly out of God's "glorious power," and the strength that Christians seek relies entirely on divine assistance. Further, may you be prepared to endure everything with patience, suggesting power to face trials, distractions, and opposition in faithfulness. They will need divine resources. Fourth, while joyfully 12 giving thanks to the Father, who has enabled you to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light.[1] Paul will emphasize the duty of joyful thanksgiving. In Paul, gratitude for the saving action of God in Jesus Christ forms the starting point and context of all Christian prayer. Therefore, with special emphasis, Paul here calls on believers to thank God the Father through the Lord Jesus Christ.[2] The preceding refers to individuals. That continues here as he speaks of patience and joy. "Inheritance" suggests promises to Abraham and nation. Note that this strength is not for displays of wonderworking, but for strength to endure the trials of life with joyful thanksgiving.
I would note that as Paul reflects on his prayer for this congregation, it should cause those who follow Christ today to reflect upon the nature of our prayers for the congregation and for individual. Too often, prayer becomes about some immediate physical need or some specific direction in life, or a problem in relationships. Truly hearing Paul at this point may suggest to Christ-followers today what the focus of their prayers could be.
Prayer can help us explore our deepest longings. When we think of others in our lives, the place to start is to thank God for them. We need to reflect upon the gifts they have brought into our lives. When we think of others, we need to learn to pray for their true needs. The same may be true of our prayers for the church. Begin with a prayer of thanksgiving. Begin with praying for what is best for them. For example, being thankful for the faith, hope, and love you have seen in their lives is a good place to begin. Praying that others will grow in their knowledge of God, biblical knowledge, and bearing the fruit of the Christian life within the community and as a witness to others, is another good place to begin our prayers. Such prayers remind us that the stresses of life, as these may affect others and us, are not where the best prayer begins.
Colossians 1: 13-14 are further examples of the prayed for “knowledge” and “spiritual understanding” in verse 9. The verses continue the reasons for thanksgiving. This is what informs Christians and urges them toward virtuous behavior -- "fruits" that reflect their thankfulness. Gospel "knowledge" reveals that the Father has delivered believers from darkness and brought ("transferred") them into "the kingdom of his beloved Son." Paul closes a prayer of "thankfulness" by citing the greatest possible gifts from gospel faith -- "redemption" and "forgiveness of sins." As another possibility, some scholars view verses 12-14 as the introduction to the “Christ-hymn” in verses 15-20, as an introduction to an exhortation on baptism.
He states the twin possessions of the church. He writes in the past tense of our rescue and of our transference, suggesting Christ has already won both and that their faith in what God has done in Christ has won in the present their rescue and their transfer from the tyranny of darkness and into the rule of the Son. It is a form of realized eschatology. 13 He has (a) rescued (ἐρρύσατο, delivered from danger) us from the power [tyranny] of darkness. The implication is that all human beings are within the power of darkness. The “kingdom of darkness” is the conclusion in disobedience of humanity, while those translated by the Father into the kingdom of Son addresses the future. The fall of humanity places all human beings within the kingdom of darkness.[3] The deliverance was not by angels but by God's own Son. The rescue means (b) he transferred (μετέστησεν) us, like a spiritual migration occurring at baptism, into the kingdom of his beloved Son. The kingdom of the Son is not glorious when considered in isolation but only as it becomes so in the Father. The kingdom is serviceable in a way that cooperates with providence. We do not know the totality of divine rule, and so we cannot fix the limit of sovereignty. It does not have a limit, neither in creation nor in our knowledge of it.[4] The mission of the Son is the revelation of the Father's love. Note that the reign of Christ has already begun, and the Father will perfect it later. Note that individual Christians are those whom God has already rescued, while their salvation is potential.
“The active life” is a task laid upon every human being. The primary task is that of service. What God wants of humanity is the active life of their presence in the Christian community. To enter the Christian community is to step out of blindness and neutrality into the reign of God. In this way, the reign of God is not a spectacle in which they are spectators, but an action related to a divine summons. Such persons bear witness that it concerns them in such a way that they must confess its occurrence by their existence. It involves an inner decision of faith that tears away their souls from a mode of existence as darkness and in which now they come into the light. As total individuals, and in relation to the cosmos, they partake of the inheritance of the saints in light by the Father, who has delivered us from darkness and translated us into the reign of the Son. The inward becomes outward, the physical corresponding to the spiritual. One must step out of neutrality, of the position as a spectator that seemed possible for the moment, and with others appear on the stage as a necessary member of the chorus that accompanies the action of the God who acts. One then participates with understanding and therefore differently from the rest of the world, opposing the world and yet addressing it. The individual decision of faith includes this public and binding committal.[5]
When we think of the love of God, we need to remember that to love God is to seek God. Those found by God are the ones who must seek God. Human beings are those in need, but also have a consuming desire to know. If we are clear about divine lordship and therefore divine love, and our lovelessness and unworthiness of love on the other, we are no longer autonomous. God has taken our existence into divine life. We still have our existence and do not cease to be ourselves. We are still free. Yet, we have no root, soil, or country, transferring to the reign of the Son by the love of the Father, who has now become our root and soil. The Son has assumed human nature, has united the human nature to the divine, in a way that our existence no longer has any particularity of its own, but belongs only to God. The reconciliation and justification effected in Christ belongs only to Christ, for we were not obedient, and we did not keep the faith.[6]
14 In whom we have redemption (ἀπολύτρωσιν), the imagery of bondage continues but now rescue comes through the philanthropist who ransoms by payment. A false notion of freedom may be present with the false teachers, as later Gnostic teaching shows. He further defines redemption as the forgiveness of sins. The church is not identical with the rule of God, but is a sign of the future of salvation in the rule of God. Yet, this is so in such a way that this future of God is already present in the church and is accessible to people through the church in its proclamation and its liturgical life. Considering these verses, then, the Spirit of the Father in verse 13 already translates followers of Christ into the rule of the dear Son of God, so that he already redeems them from sin in verse 14.[7] Nature is unforgiving. The forgiveness God offers breaks the rules of nature and casts aside the judgments of creation. Of course, forgiveness does not condone immoral behavior like cruelty, deceit, injustice, and hate. However, forgiveness can undo their effects. Forgiveness can unleash the healing power of faith and love. Yet, sin has fallen on hard on times. Foods can be sinfully delicious. Sin is a fairy-tale of woman, an apple, and a snake. The church does not help when it reduces sin to a list of things people should not do. I am old enough to recall a time when local congregations simply did not allow into membership people who drank or smoked. The primary sin the church has focused upon is, of course, sex. Sin has fallen upon such hard times that it has almost dropped from the daily lexicon of most people.[8]
As John Calvin reflects on the theme of these verses, he emphasizes that only the grace of God can bring one from darkness to light. He stresses that “our deliverance from the slavery of sin and death is the work of God, so also our passing into the kingdom of Christ.” Paul calls Christ the Son of divine love, because in the Son “alone” the soul of the Father takes pleasure. He refers to Matthew 17:5, the Mount of Transfiguration, where the Father calls the Son “my beloved.” Significantly, he then offers the opinion that in the Son “all others are beloved.” Human beings are not acceptable to God, in his view, except through Christ.
As stated in verse 11, Paul wants this congregation to endure everything with patience. Their core decision in baptism was to move from the tyranny of darkness and into the reign of the Son. Amid a world of adversity and evil, Paul believes that in Christ we can grow in faith, hope, and love. He believes this congregation can grow in knowledge, wisdom, and understanding, leading to worthy lives before others and pleasing lives to the Lord.
Duke Senior:
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head;
And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
--As You Like It, Act 2, scene 1, 12-17
I admire the insight that Shakespeare displayed. I came across a brief explanation at enotes.com of the well-known first line upon which I would like to reflect.
The duke is describing the view of the world events have forced him to adopt. You see, his villainous brother has deposed him. The “adversity” referred to is that event and of which he has found “sweet uses.” He compares his suffering, such as exposure to the elements, to an ugly toad. According to legend, the toad has a precious jewel in its temple that had healing qualities. The jewel he has discovered, the use or profit of adversity he has discovered, is freedom from the public haunt of society. The duke concludes that nature "speaks" more eloquently and truly than tongues, books, and sermons; stones turn out to be better company than courtiers are.
The duke's metaphor now seems far-fetched, as it may also have seemed to Shakespeare's audience. Nevertheless, "sweet are the uses of adversity" survives as preciously sincere words of comfort, when not uttered sarcastically.
Most of us wrestle with suffering, either in our lives personally or in the lives of family and friends. When young, it just seemed like life should be better than what I had experienced. Today, as I have aged, I have come to accept the reality that a world with suffering and evil is the world we have. In most things, I can honestly say that God has worked in everything for good (Romans 8:28). In some things, I have the hope that will be the case.
Yes, Shakespeare, the uses of which we make adversity may well be sweet. It does not make adversity itself any less bitter.
In Colossians 1: 15-20, Paul quotes a hymn of which his readers are familiar. It stresses the pre-eminence of Christ over all things, whether we can physically see them, as in creation, or not, as in the spiritual realm. Some persons in their midst had challenged the Colossian Christians with teaching the presence and power of a whole host of spiritual beings -- all of whom demanded human attention and obeisance. Although Paul does not use the word, the concept of Logos is behind the text. The theology in this Christ-hymn makes it clear that the "beloved Son" (v.13) alone is the "firstborn," that "all things have been created through him and for him," and that "he himself is before all things" (vv.15-17). Such a claim flies directly in the face of the false teachers in Colossae who advocated various astrological and cosmological doctrines. The Nicene Creed affirms that the church believes in Jesus Christ, “by (through) whom all things were made,” based on passages like this.
This text, along with Hebrews 1:2 and the John 1:1-18, are basic passages that present the preexistence of the Son of God. Further, verses 15-20 develop the idea of the function of the Son as the mediator of creation, expressing it in terms of Logos, as also Hebrews 1:2-3 and John 1:1-18. The one whom human beings crucified outside the walls of Jerusalem is the image of God and the one through whom God created all things. The new world that is coming shows itself now in this affirmation of the lordship of Christ over all things, seen and unseen. Creation has its origin in Christ and finds its fulfillment in Christ. Christ preserves creation. The hymn affirms that the Lord of creation is also the ruling and guiding center of the life of the church. We know all of this, as is typical of Paul, because of the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. The resurrection allows him to remind the Colossians that God, while majestic beyond anything humanity could imagine, also comes close to us in Christ. God transcends all things but is immanent in Christ. This fellowship between Father and Son is a fellowship into which God invites all creation to enter, so that all things will find reconciliation in God. Not surprisingly, this reconciliation occurs through the cross, a symbol of suffering and death that occurred in our human history. The cross reminds us that the Father sent the Son in a spirit of kindness and gentleness, rather than tyranny, fear, and terror. The point was to save humanity by persuasion rather than compulsion. God invited.
I will pay attention to the celebrative tone. God has put the powers that enslave humanity in their place. That is why Paul calls his readers to live a new life as citizens of the rule of God. God has defeated the powers of darkness. Christ has won the decisive victory. We know who has won the war. Every time we pray, in the Lord's Prayer, "Thy kingdom come," we are claiming more ground for Christ, we are leaning forward toward that complete victory of Christ over everything in this world that would deface his creation. Every time you say grace at a meal, you are saying that Jesus is Lord, and that the world and all it offers is his and has no independent authority. And every time we celebrate the Eucharist, we celebrate the victory of Jesus Christ in a way which, by the power of its symbolic action, resonates out into the city, into the country, into the world, into our homes, into our marriages, into our bank accounts - resonates out with the powerful message that God is God, that Jesus is his visible image, and that this God has defeated the powers of evil that still enslave and crush human beings today. In our daily skirmishes with evil, we can live with hope and confidence. We can act faithfully and live with courage. Although the battles may be tough, we already know who has won the war. That knowledge, the knowledge that God has transferred us into the kingdom of God's beloved Son, the knowledge that the powers of death and evil no longer hold us in their tight grip, that knowledge enables us to live with courage. Christ shows us that God has won the war. Now it is up to us to live like it.
The claims these passages make of Christ are massive. They suggest the danger of domesticating Jesus to fit notions with which we are more comfortable. As the Cosmic Christ, he is elusive, enigmatic, paradoxical. We will never comprehend, understand, or convert this Christ to serve our purposes. If such passages are true, we rightly pray to Christ and believe what the gospel promises are true and will happen. Such descriptions of the man Jesus of Nazareth as we find in this hymn invite us to see his cosmic dimension as the Son of God and Lord of creation. Some people might consider such claims as arrogant. Some people might consider them as ignoring self-evident reality. In fact, do we as Christians really know what we are claiming? Are we taking it seriously? [9]
The first strophe is verses 15-16. These three lines hail the cosmic Christ as Lord of creation, bringing it into existence, its rightful “soul”, and the guide of its destiny. He claims the person of Christ is supreme in creation. 15 He is the image (εἰκὼν) of the invisible God. “Image” may be quite realistic. The word means image, likeness, representation, and manifestation. The “image” of the emperor was on the coin of the realm. The “image” of God is in Jesus Christ.[10] The daring equation by Paul of the man Jesus, the Messiah of Israel, and the Son of God, directly with the divine image is a radical innovation. Think of it this way – a man crucified and dying in Jerusalem is the Messiah, the Son of God, and the image of God. A passage like this affirms that God is creator, but through Jesus Christ, and therefore that in their creation God had the Son in mind in way in which this one man is the meaning and motive of all creation.[11] Christ is the firstborn of all creation. Christian theology must read the Old Testament saying about our divine likeness in the light of a statement like this, in which Christ is the image of God, as well as his notion that believers are to transform into this image. It has a general anthropological significance that one can discuss under the general heading of the destiny of humanity. The phrase does not suggest that Christ is first among all created things, as Arians would later argue, but rather that Christ is pre-eminent over the rest of creation and testifies to the special relationship that exists between God and Christ. Rabbinic interpretation also connected “firstborn” with the Messiah. The Son is prior to all creation. The “image” and “first-born” references became themes of the Alexandrian Logos theology of the second century. Justin Martyr would recognize the connection of such phrases with the Logos.[12] We might recognize the Word of God, the decree of God and the election of God as being at the beginning of all things. We might recognize it at the beginning of our own being and thinking and as the basis of our faith in the ways and works of God. In this person, we might recognize the beginning of the Word, decree, and election of God, the conclusive and absolute authority in respect of the aim and origin of all things.[13] It suggests the removal of the First begotten from the series of created realities.[14] This man Jesus is the beginning of all the ways and works of God. In the Son, God wills and posits another being different from the Father. Such is the content of predestination, which is already grace. God had no need of creation. God was not satisfied with the inner divine glory, and so willed the creation and the man Jesus as the first-born of all creation, which was already “condescension inconceivably tender.” It is self-giving, the inner glory of God overflowing toward others.[15] 16 For in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones, the highest grade of angelic being in God's presence, or dominions or rulers or powers, referring to good and bad angels but lower in the hierarchy than thrones—all things have been created. “Created” is aorist, referring to the definite act of creation. It depends upon Genesis 1:1, “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth…” It alludes to angels in the traditional Jewish way, that they are creatures made by God. Forces identified as thrones, dominions, rulers, and powers were forces viewed in Colossae as competing with the Son. The list is like that in Ephesians 1:21. The order of the list does not have meaning. Gnostics speculated about the celestial hierarchy. However, the Christian knows that creation is through him and for him. All things find their meeting point in Christ. The Logos is the cooperating and meditating agent in creation. The Logos is the goal as well as the beginning of creation. The notion is one of heavenly powers created and established for the sake of Christ and in the service of Christ, and therefore controlled by Christ. Their function and service will attain their goal with the coming again of Christ.[16] The Son being the mediator of creation is an affirmation that the early church had in view that the reign of God has drawn near, the turning point of the times, revealed in Christ, is the fulfillment of all the promises of the covenant of grace. To honor this name, to bear witness to this honor, they made this affirmation. They wanted to offer a comprehensive description of the lordship of Christ.[17] We can connect the notion of the mediator of creation with the election of Jesus Christ to be the Head of a new humanity, as suggested in verses 16 and 20. Creation will find its consummation only in Jesus Christ. Every created thing has its origin in Christ and exists for Christ, even the various ranks of angels. This fact justifies the titles given for Jesus in verse 15. Christ is the law and purpose of Creation. The source of created life is in Christ.[18]
Strophe 2 is Colossians 1: 17-18a. It repeats the pre-existent activity of Christ, where He is head of the universe and therefore head of the church. 17 He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. The hymn refers to divine preservation of creation, connecting it with the creation of the world by the Son, as here and in Hebrews 1:3. Christ does nothing less than hold the universe together, reminiscent of the claim in Hebrews that he "sustains all things by his powerful word" (Hebrews 1:3). It points to the pre-existence of the Logos, first as before all things, and then as the principle of cohesion in the universe. Alexandrian Judaism used similar language. Jungel and Barth relate the category of revelation to theological reflection on God as the God who speaks. The point appears to be that God communicates the divine self by speaking. This would mean that the revelation of God in history, the revelation of the historical plan or mystery for salvation in the person and work of Jesus Christ is the basis of the idea of a self-revelation of God by speaking in the Son. One can have no objection to the idea, if one gives greater precision to the idea of an eschatological revelation of the historical plan of God by means of the prophetic notion that the aim of the historical action of God is the knowledge of the deity of God. Jungel would not mean this.[19] This verse does not support the notion of the Trinity, for it refers only to the Son.[20] 18 He is the head of the body, the church. That which controls the creation also controls the church. The creator of the world is the head of the church. “Head” is inspiring ruling, guiding, the center of its unity and source of its life. Saying that creation is through Christ and for Christ has the implication that the church is here for the world, and thus, not just for itself.[21] As remarkable as the claims are for the complete primacy of this cosmic Christ, the hymn makes an even more astounding assertion: that we find this supreme deity at the head of the church itself. Paul's familiar image of the church as the "body of Christ" shifts its focus here to accent Christ as the head of this body, continuing the emphasis on Christ's supremacy and on Christ as the originator of the church. If we reflect upon the people of God in the course of history, this passage suggests that the alteration of the whole situation of humanity and the cosmos humanity inhabits has already happened. Jesus Christ is the new reality of world occurrence, but in a concealed way. He is the head of the church, but he is also the head of creation.[22] In matters related to ecumenical dialogue, I should mention that Pope Gregory[23] says that Peter was indeed one of the chief members of the Church, but that he and the other Apostles were members under one head. Such a notion has implications for dialogue with the Roman Catholic Church. This verse is an argument against the notion of referring to any human being as “head” of the church, for the New Testament uses such a term exclusively for Jesus Christ. The use of such a term for the Roman bishop has always been an occasion for justifiable offense. He remarks that the Byzantium church rightly rejected the argument of Rome that Rome was the head of the church, arguing in contrast that only Christ is the head.[24]
Strophe 3 is Colossians 1: 18b-20. It celebrates the triumph of this cosmic Lord who embodies the divine fullness. He is the beginning, suggesting priority in time and originating power. He is the firstborn from the dead, resurrection corresponding in verse 15 to that which made him had of the church. One might note the relationship established between Christ's headship of creation by virtue of pre-existence and Christ's headship of the church by virtue of resurrection. One could note Philippians 2:6, where Christ was in the form of God, having equality with God. This verse narrows the focus of this cosmic Christ into a more predictably Pauline concern by looking at Christ in relationship to the church, as Christ the Redeemer. We can link individual and universal fulfillment of salvation as an essential element in biblical hope for the future. The resurrection of Jesus as the Christ anticipates this future.[25] We have here reasons for maintaining the unity of Jesus with God. The idea of rising from the dead to a new and eternal life has its roots in Jewish eschatological hope. Referring to the post-exilic effort to deal with theodicy by the notion of resurrection of the righteous, passages like this, “the first-born from the dead,” one should understand in this context. It was not a return to an earthly life, but a transition to the new eschatological life.[26] Christ was the "firstborn of all creation" and thus Lord over the created universe. Christ is also the "head of the body, the church" the "firstborn from the dead" -- that is, the new, unprecedented creation that now exists since the Resurrection. Christ reigns supreme over both the old and new creation. He has primogeniture rights over both. He is the beginning and the resurrected one so that he might come to have first place in everything. 19 For in him all the fullness (pleroma, a technical theological term denoting the totality of divine attributes and powers.[27]) of God was pleased to dwell. Paul strikes yet another blow against the incipient Gnosticism in Colossae by this claim. The fullness of Christ will fully come only in the eschaton, which should affect the way we think of the church as “catholic.” It refers to Christ, while false teachers would have it distributed among many beings. They would also maintain only a partial connection of fullness with the Lord, while Paul affirms total identification.[28] One of the crucial issues in religion is the difficulty of maintaining the transcendence and immanence of God. The doctrine of the Trinity clarifies the question of union and tension between transcendence and immanence. Here, it arises with even greater sharpness, for Paul writes of the dwelling of deity in Jesus Christ.[29] Further,20 through him God was pleased to reconcile (ἀποκαταλλάξαι) to himself all things. We see here the participation of creatures in the Trinitarian fellowship of the Son with the Father is the goal of creation. Paul sees this plainly in the incarnation of the divine Logos in Jesus. The goal of this event was that all might find reconciliation in Christ[30] Paul identifies “all things” as whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross. Verses 19-20 once more expand the role of Christ to the whole of creation, on earth and in heaven. We must never lose sight of the remarkable quality of the statement that the cross has created a cosmic peace that enfolds all things in earth and in heaven. The statement is remarkable because of the contrast with the way Jesus lived his life in humility and service, even to the cross. "All things" in v. 19 becomes more specific here in showing the moral process revealed in the cross. Paul's surprising universal hymn of praise and thanksgiving concludes by moving Christ's cross not just beyond the boundaries of Israel but exceeding even the limits of planet Earth itself. Marvelously, Paul hangs the cross in the heavens, the symbol of redemption for all of creation. It is through the sacrificial death of Christ, Paul concludes, that "God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven." Instead of a partial reconciliation, Paul affirms an absolute and complete reconciliation. Christ presents this reconciled creation to the Father. Paul wanted to stress the universal lordship of Christ. Paul thereby anchored reconciliation in an historical event. The divine mystery of salvation is identical with Christ, but with Christ in the Gentile Christian church, the point of calling Christ the mystery of salvation lies in the universality of Christ in salvation history as the reconciler of the world. As the head of the church, the church demonstrated in its life this reconciliation in healing the division of Jew and Gentile. The church has a place in the one mystery of salvation, but only as far as it is present and at work in Christ and Christ in it.[31]
Such analysis leads most scholars to consider these verses among the earliest Christian hymns. It has a lyrical nature in Greek. The hymn offers praise to Christ the Redeemer, one that stresses the supremacy of Christ in the universe and in the church. The cosmic focus of the passage reminds one of John 1:1-18. This was a hymn used by the Colossian congregation as part of their baptismal liturgy. What is most significant is what Paul does with it, as he adapts it to the theology of the cross, as well as beginning with baptism as a call to renew their apostolic faith. Paul may use the hymn to correct the theology that had become popular among segments of the church. If the hymn were part of the liturgical life of the church through baptism, it would seem logical that at the baptism of a new believer, the most distinct and validating confession one makes is about the person of Christ.
This hymn, which someone designed as a praise of the Lord of creation, Paul has transformed into a song of redemption that centers in Christ's atonement as Savior of the church. Gnostic teachings identified the whole host of spiritual beings (aeons or emanations) that lay between the supreme God and the created universe as the pleroma. The Christ-hymn theology denies that there is any gap between Christ Jesus the head of the church and God. God dwells fully in Christ, not just some spiritual speck or subordinate aeon of spirituality. This full portion of the divine not only became one with creation through Christ but acted as creation's redeemer as well. Another Gnostic notion, that spirit and matter are antithetical, this hymn rejects by the presence of the supreme, redeeming Christ, a presence that defined both creation and redemption for the universe.
Chrysostom emphasizes the note of reconciliation and making peace in verse 20 in a moving way. He asks a simple question, “For what if with this person we have peace, but with another, war and fighting? What is the gain?” He uses the analogy of the body. It would hardly be to the advantage of the body that some of its parts be “in a state of variance” with the others. It will not be a healthy body if that happens. When the whole of the body is “in good order, harmony, and peace,” with “the whole at rest, and continue within their proper limits,” there can be reconciliation and peace. Our thoughts need to be “at rest,” or peace will not exist. “So great a good is peace, as that the makers and producers of it are called the sons of God, with reason; because the Son of God for this cause came upon the earth, to set at peace the things in the earth, and those in the heavens.” Of course, “if the peacemakers are the sons of God, the makers of disturbance are sons of the devil.” He continues by asking of those who stir up contention and fighting whether they are happy. He observes, “Many there are who rejoice at evil, and who do rather rend in pieces the Body of Christ, than did the soldiers pierce it with the spear, or the Jews who struck it through with the nails.” He urges them to consider, “When thou art minded to war against thy brother, bethink thee that thou warrest against the members of Christ, and cease from thy madness.”
Chrysostom goes on to compare the follower of Christ to ambassadors. “Ambassadors, whatever be their sort, because of the dignity of an embassy, enjoy much honor. For observe; they go alone into the heart of the land of barbarians, through the midst of so many enemies; and because the law of embassy is of mighty power, all honor them; all look towards them with respect, all send them forth with safety.” The follower of Christ has received a word from God. He comes on a mission from an embassy. He requests them “to put an end to the war.” He cannot promise to give cities, corn, slaves, or gold, “but the kingdom of heaven, eternal life, society with Christ, the other good things.” He then says, “Ambassadors then we are, and we wish to enjoy honor, not for our own sakes, far be it, for we know its worthlessness, but for yours; that ye may hear with earnestness the things we say; that ye may be profited, that not with listlessness or indifference ye may attend to what is spoken.”
One could also note Diognetus 7, written around 150 AD. Dare we still believe about Christ what he was willing to affirm? The mystery of which Paul writes here is not a human mystery. Rather, the Ruler and Creator of all, the invisible God, established the truth, the holy and incomprehensible word, among human beings and especially in the hearts of the first apostolie witnesses. God sent the actual Designer and Maker of the universe, by whom God created the heavens, land, and sea. In fact, the elements of the universe carry out the hidden purposes of the Designer. God sent the potentially distant Designer to humanity. Now, if we did such an incredible thing, we might have sent the Designer to rule of tyranny, fear, and terror. However, God sent the Designer out of kindness and gentleness. God sent the Designer as God, but also as human being to other human beings. God chose to save humanity be persuasion rather than compulsion. God called humanity, sending the Designer in love rather than judgment. Of course, that Judgment Day will come at the right time. So many have been willing to die for this belief. The persecution of them as actually led to their increase in numbers. The strength they show in persecution demonstrate the presence of God among them.[32]
A Star Trek episode called “Bread and Circuses” has an interesting and rare positive place for religion.[33] The title refers to a culture enamored with food and entertainment rather than civic virtue. Captain Kirk and his crew come across a planet that contains a modern version of the Roman Empire, complete with gladiators, senators, and corrupt politicians. A group of renegade slaves practices a peace-loving religion of "total love and brotherhood," and the ruthless empire is determined to wipe them out. Now, the Colossians who received Paul's letter would have found this episode to be remarkably familiar. They were Christians living in a city of Asia Minor, which was part of the first-century Roman Empire. The twist in the Star Trek episode is that the slaves imprisoned for their religion are sun worshipers. Mr. Spock points out that "it seems illogical for a sun worshiper to develop a philosophy of total brotherhood. Sun worship is usually a primitive, superstitious religion." Then Lieutenant Uhura pipes up from her communications console: "I'm afraid you have it all wrong," she says. "I've been monitoring some of their old-style radio waves. ... It's not the sun up in the sky. It's the Son of God."
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.” On July 20, 1969, the astronaut Neil Armstrong descended the ladder of the Apollo 11 lunar lander and set foot on the surface of the moon. His original intent was to say, “one small step for a man,” but what came out was “one small step for man.” No matter. For him it was a small step — a short drop, really — from the bottom rung of the ladder to the surface of the moon. However, the implications for humanity were enormous.
Armstrong did not take that step without anxiety. Before the historic flight of Apollo 11, his brother Dean had asked him, “What single thing do you have the most uncertainty about?” His reply: “How deep is the dust?” It was a real worry for everyone connected with the Apollo 11 mission, but especially for the man who was going to step out onto the Sea of Tranquility. Astronomers knew powdery gray dust covered the moon’s surface, but they did not know for sure how deep it was. When the Apollo lander touched down without sinking in, everyone at Mission Control heaved a sigh of relief — but no one more than Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin themselves. Their lives depended upon the depth of that dust. More than 530 million people around the world breathlessly observed that “small step” on their television Screens. At the time, it was the largest TV audience ever. Those of us who were alive to watch it knew NASA had made history.
It was larger than the one step, of course. Humanity had expanded, however briefly, to another world. The metal flag planted by Armstrong and Aldrin — shrewdly fashioned to give the illusion it was flying in an aspirational lunar breeze — symbolically claimed the moon for the United States. Nevertheless, in truth, the achievement was bigger than any belonging to one nation. It belonged to humanity.
I share the story because with this scientific and technological event came a change of perspective. As Armstrong and Aldrin looked up from their exploration and their science experiments, they saw something new against the blackness of that lunar sky: the blue-green surface of a tiny Earth.
That perspective began changing with the experience of their predecessors in the Apollo program. On Christmas Eve, 1968, astronauts Frank Borman, Jim Lovell and Bill Anders, the crew of Apollo 8, were orbiting the moon. They had already gone around three times. On the fourth pass, they looked up and saw something they had not expected to see because their examination of the cratered lunar surface below preoccupied them. What they saw surprised them. It astounded them. What they saw was the Earth rising. Frank Borman, the expedition’s commander, later described it this way:
“I happened to glance out of one of the still-clear windows just at the moment the Earth appeared over the lunar horizon. It was the most beautiful, heart-catching sight of my life, one that sent a torrent of nostalgia, of sheer homesickness, surging through me. It was the only thing in space that had any color to it. Everything else was either black or white, but not the Earth.”
Borman’s crewmate, Jim Lovell, described just what it was about the Earthrise that was so arresting:
“Up there, it’s a black-and-white world. There’s no color. In the whole universe, wherever we looked, the only bit of color was back on Earth … . It was the most beautiful thing there was to see in all the heavens. People down here don’t realize what they have.”
The astronauts had received detailed instructions to photograph the moon, but nowhere in their exhaustive expedition plan was there time set aside to photograph the Earth. Incredibly, the NASA authorities had not thought much about that. They had labeled photos of the Earth as “targets of opportunity” and given them the lowest priority in the astronauts’ orders. The expedition planners only had eyes for the moon. When the Apollo 8 spacecraft rounded the moon for the fourth time, the astronauts scrambled for a camera loaded with color film. Bill Anders took the photograph that has become so famous.
The three were out of radio contact with Earth at the time, but a cockpit voice recorder preserved their conversation. They sound, for all the world, like a trio of tourists — and, in a sense, that is exactly what they were:
“Oh, my God,” says Borman, “look at that picture over there! Here’s the Earth comin’ up. Wow, that is pretty!”
“Hey, don’t take that,” says Anders, “it’s not scheduled.”
Borman just laughs. “You got a color film, Jim?”
Anders has a change of heart. “Hand me that roll of color quick, will you?”
“Oh, man, that’s great,” marvels Lovell, looking out the window.
“Hurry, quick,” says Anders.
“Take several of them! Here, give it to me,” says Lovell.
“Calm down, Lovell,” says Commander Borman, amusement in his voice.
The sight of the first Earthrise ever witnessed by a human being turned those highly trained, disciplined military officers into a bunch of awestruck kids. Days before, as they sat on the launch pad atop that Saturn V rocket, they thought they were risking their lives so they could take a good look at the moon. In fact, it would be their vision of the Earth that would prove more memorable.
Historians concur. Saturday Review magazine editor Norman Cousins told a Congressional committee: “What was most significant about the lunar voyage was not that men set foot on the moon, but that they set eye on the Earth.” It was another example of how French novelist Marcel Proust was right when he wrote in his journal, “The real voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”
The most elegant commentary of all came from poet Archibald MacLeish in an essay called “Riders on the Earth.” The New York Times published it on Christmas Day, 1968. That was just one day after those three astronauts had taken their famous photo. As that newspaper went to press, the film with the Earthrise on it was still in the spacecraft orbiting the moon. Not only that, but newspaper deadlines being what they are, MacLeish had certainly authored his essay before those astronauts had even seen the Earth from space. How did he know what profound impact that sight would have? It might be because he was a poet. Here are the opening paragraphs of that short essay. Rarely has anyone written such eloquent words.
“Men’s conception of themselves and of each other has always depended on their notion of the Earth. When the Earth was the World — all the world there was — and the stars were lights in Dante’s heaven, and the ground beneath men’s feet roofed Hell, they saw themselves as creatures at the center of the universe, the sole, particular concern of God — and from that high place they ruled and killed and conquered as they pleased.
“And when, centuries later, the Earth was no longer the World but a small, wet spinning planet in the solar system of a minor star off at the edge of an inconsiderable galaxy in the immeasurable distances of space — when Dante’s heaven had disappeared and there was no Hell (at least no Hell beneath the feet) — men began to see themselves not as God-directed actors at the center of a noble drama, but as helpless victims of a senseless farce where all the rest were helpless victims also and millions could be killed in world-wide wars or in blasted cities or in concentration camps without a thought or reason but the reason — if we call it one — of force.
“Now, in the last few hours, the notion may have changed again. For the first time in all of time men have seen it not as continents or oceans from the little distance of a hundred miles or two or three, but seen it from the depth of space; seen it whole and round and beautiful and small.”
“To see the Earth as it truly is, small and blue and beautiful in that eternal silence where it floats, is to see ourselves as riders on the Earth together, brothers on that bright loveliness in the eternal cold — brothers who know now they are truly brothers.”
It is a vision that, more than 50 years later, we riders on the Earth are still struggling to realize.
On that same Apollo 8 mission when Bill Anders took the iconic Earthrise photo, his crewmate Frank Borman had the task of broadcasting a Christmas Eve greeting back to the Earth. Remarkably, the higher-ups at NASA had given him little guidance on what to say. “We figure more people will be listening to your voice than that of any man in history,” his boss had helpfully pointed out. “So we want you to say something appropriate.” Talk about pressure! What Borman decided to do was simply to read the first 10 verses from Genesis, chapter 1, from the Authorized (King James) Version. It begins:
“In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light.”
The Apollo space program did provide humanity with “one giant leap.” It consisted of a massive change of perspective: the view back from the moon, of the Earth floating in space.
Yes, science and technology can shift our perspective.
By analogy, I am suggesting that our turn toward God who has revealed who God is in Jesus of Nazareth is a change in perspective. The claims for Jesus I have discussed are massive. If true, they call for a transformed life through a changed perspective on self and world. The changed perspective has its basis in the witness of the apostles that Jesus of Nazareth is the Risen One. If the God of Israel has raised Jesus of Nazareth from the dead, then it changes our perspective. Granted, to those who do not respond with faith, the truth of the universe remains a mystery. For those with eyes to see, for those who believe, the truth of the universe has become clear.
Philosophically, it was a giant leap. Yet, the leap was not simply the concoction of a vivid imagination. It was a changed perspective based upon a real event in history. The event includes what happened to Jesus of Nazareth at the hands of human beings in power. They used their power to lift Jesus upon a cross. The event involves God giving Jesus new, eschatological life. In the resurrection of Jesus, we see the destiny of humanity and therefore the destiny of creation. To verify the event, all we have are the first witnesses. We have the women at the tomb; we have Peter, the twelve, the 500, James, all the apostles, and Paul (I Corinthians 15:5-7). Today, it falls to us — those who profess Christ as Lord and Savior and have received the commission to be his witnesses — to share what we have heard and seen of him. In so doing, we rely on the testimony of those indispensable, firsthand witnesses, the apostles.
One of the most dramatic features of that 1968 Earthrise photograph is its background. As bright and bountiful as the Earth appears, glowing with reflected sunlight that dazzled the senses of the astronauts, that delicate blue sphere seems to float in a sea of inky blackness. This Earth, this cradle of life, floats in a frigid sea of nothingness and death. The anonymous poet who wrote the Genesis creation account — the same one Frank Borman read from space — must have had some sense of the sheer terror and immensity of the universe (although he would never see it as the astronauts did). He describes “a formless void” and darkness that “covered the face of the deep.” However, the Creator called the cosmos into being — whether by means of the famous “Big Bang” or through some other way. God pushed back the nothingness and inserted something into it: galaxies, stars, and planets, one of which is the blue ball on which we ride. One day, the book of Revelation promises, not only will Christ return, but also God will bring this whole work of creation to a glorious completion: “And there will be no more night. They need no light of lamp or sun, for the Lord God will be their light, and they will reign forever and ever.” (Revelation 22:5) There will be no more night. Think of it. Think of it from the viewpoint of the immensity of space. “They need no light of lamp or sun.” All the perpetual night that surrounds this biosphere will be no more. There will be only light — light that emanates from the Creator, the source of all light, who will at last have come to dwell amid the creation.
So, what does it mean for us to follow such a unifying God? A God who created all things by Christ, who holds all things together in Christ, and who reconciles all things through Christ? What could it mean for us to join the Colossians in serving a Colossal Christ?
First, we can begin by putting Jesus at the center of our world. Christ should be our center as well, as we make a commitment to live the resurrection in our home, our schools, and our workplaces. This means forgiving others, as Christ has forgiven us. It means choosing life over death, as God did when he raised Jesus from the tomb. It means responding to evil with goodness, grace, and love. With Jesus at the center, we can begin to see that he is much bigger than the narrow world of our churches and denominations. He is truly a Cosmic Christ! Jesus is in the science lab, inspiring awe in students who are looking through microscopes. Jesus is in the courtroom, advancing justice through the work of attorneys and judges. Jesus is in the factory, creating products that can improve the quality of life for people everywhere. Jesus is in the sanctuaries of people of numerous races and religions, drawing them closer to the God who created them -- even if they do not yet know his name.
[1] Some would suggest that this verse should go with the following verse.
[2] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology Volume 3, 207)
[3] Barth (CD, IV.1 [60.3] 502)
[4] Barth (CD., III.3 [48.3] 42)
[5] Barth (Church Dogmatics III.4 [55.3] 491)
[6] Barth (Church Dogmatics I.2 [18.2] 391)
[7] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology Volume 3, 37)
[8] Inspired by Marjorie Suchocki, from " The Trouble with Sin" Sewanee Theological Review, Volume 35:1,1991,
[9] —The Presbyterian Layman, May-June 1998, citing Ecumenical News International (ENI), “German theologian abandons faith, calls liberal beliefs ‘contemptible.’” Retrieved June 26, 2007. This article originally appeared in The Layman (May/June 1998), the publication of the Presbyterian Lay Committee. It is reprinted here with permission.
A prominent German Protestant theologian who has renounced Christianity is causing widespread controversy, calling liberal theology “contemptible” and declaring that anyone who takes Christian doctrine seriously should become a fundamentalist. Early this month Gerd Ludemann, Professor of New Testament studies since 1983 at the University of Gottingen, said, “I no longer describe myself as a Christian.” Though he no longer calls himself a Christian, Professor Ludemann has refused to give up his university post, describing theology as a “free science in state universities” which is not required to serve the interests of the church. Explaining his remark that he no longer called himself a Christian, Ludemann said, “A Christian is someone who prays to Christ and believes in what is promised by Christian doctrine. So I asked myself: ‘Do I pray to Jesus, do I pray to the God of the Bible?’ And I don’t do that.” Christian descriptions of Jesus as “Lord of the world” were “arrogant and ignore reality,” he said. “I don’t think Christians know what they mean when they proclaim Christ as Lord of the world. That is a massive claim. If you took that seriously, you would probably have to be a fundamentalist. If you can’t be a fundamentalist, then you should give up Christianity for the sake of honesty,” he said. Professor Ludemann also criticized attempts by “liberal theologians” to reinterpret Christian doctrine so that they could continue to describe themselves, in good conscience, as Christian. “They don’t [really] believe what the confession of faith says,” he said, adding that he found liberal theology “contemptible.”
[10] Barth (Church Dogmatics, III. 1 [41.2] 201-6)
[11] Barth (Church Dogmatics III.2 [44.3], 137)
[12] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 2, 208)
[13] Barth (Church Dogmatics, II.2 [33.1] 99)
[14] Barth (Church Dogmatics, II.2 [33.1], 95)
[15] Barth (Church Dogmatics, II.2 [33.1], 121)
[16] Barth (Church Dogmatics III.3 [51.2] 458)
[17] Barth (Church Dogmatics, III.1 [41.1] 54)
[18] Pannenberg (Anthropology in Theological Perspective, 1985, 62ff, 66ff)
[19] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 1, 238)
[20] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 1, 302)
[21] Barth (Church Dogmatics, IV.3 [72.2] 767)
[22] Barth (Church Dogmatics, IV.3 [72.1] 756)
[23] (in his 92nd Epistle, 4th Book)
[24] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology Volume 3, 430, 466)
[25] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology Volume 3, 579)
[26] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 2, 348)
[27] Barth (Church Dogmatics IV.2 [64.3] 257)
[28] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 3, 407)
[29] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 1, 415)
[30] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 2, 73)
[31] Pannenberg (Systematic Theology, Volume 3, 41)
[32] As I have indicated, it is not an earthly discovery that was committed to them; it is not a mortal thought that they think of as worth guarding with such care, nor have they been entrusted with the stewardship of merely human mysteries. 2On the contrary, it was really the Ruler of all, the Creator of all, the invisible God himself, who from heaven established the truth and the holy, incomprehensible word among men, and fixed it firmly in their hearts. Nor, as one might suppose, did he do this by sending to men some subordinate—an angel, or principality, or one of those who administer earthly affairs, or perhaps one of those to whom the government of things in heaven is entrusted. Rather, he sent the Designer and Maker of the universe himself, by whom he created the heavens and confined the sea within its own bounds—him whose hidden purposes all the elements of the world faithfully carry out, him from whom the sun has received the measure of the daily rounds that it must keep, him whom the moon obeys when he commands her to shine by night, and whom the stars obey as they follow the course of the moon. He sent him by whom all things have been set in order and distinguished and placed in subjection—the heavens and the things that are in the heavens, the earth and the things in the earth, the sea and the things in the sea, fire, air, the unfathomed pit, the things in the heights and in the depths and in the realm between; God sent him to men.
3Now, did he send him, as a human mind might assume, to rule by tyranny, fear, and terror? 4Far from it! He sent him out of kindness and gentleness, like a king sending his son who is himself a king. He sent him as God; he sent him as man to men. He willed to save man by persuasion, not by compulsion, for compulsion is not God's way of working. 5In sending him, God called men, but did not pursue them; he sent him in love, not in judgment. 6Yet he will indeed send him someday as our Judge, and who shall stand when he appears?
7Do you not see how they are thrown to wild animals to make them deny the Lord, and how they are not vanquished? 8Do you not see that the more of them are punished, the more do others increase? 9These things do not seem to come from a human power; they are a mighty act of God; they are proofs of his presence.
[33] "Bread and Circuses" is a second season episode of the original American science fiction television series Star Trek, broadcast on March 15, 1968. It is episode #54, production #43, written by Gene Roddenberry and Gene L. Coon and directed by Ralph Senensky. Its name is a reference to the phrase "bread and circuses" taken from the Satire X written by the poet, Juvenal. In modern usage, the phrase implies a populace that no longer values civic virtues, the public life, and military (manly) service; instead, the people need only food and entertainment. Chuck Colson offers an interesting interpretation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jxSc3kx2wp8
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