Personal testimony
Commentary
Object:
Victor Hugo called his masterpiece Les Miserables a religious work. So it is. The story echoes the gospel message at nearly every turn.
The main character, Jean Valjean, has been beaten hard by the cruel twists of fate. He has seen the sham of hypocrisy on all sides. So he casts the name of the Lord to the ground like a curse. What does God know of him, and what does it matter?
Imprisoned for stealing bread to feed his family and resentenced by the vindictive will of his jailer, Jean Valjean finally manages to escape. On his first night of freedom, he stays with a bishop who treats him well. But behind Jean Valjean’s thankful mask is the cunning face of a thief, for the bishop has many valuables.
In the early morning hours, Jean Valjean steals away with some silver plates. And when his suspicious appearance brings him under arrest, he is forced to face the bishop again, charged with new crimes.
Then the miracle of grace occurs. For in Jean Valjean’s eyes the bishop sees something that begs forgiveness and hopes for mercy. Instead of taking revenge, the bishop declares that the silver dishes were a gift to Jean Valjean. In fact, he says Jean Valjean forgot to take the two silver candlesticks he had also given him.
In an instant, the bishop declares Jean Valjean innocent and gives him back his life. But with this gift of forgiveness, he commissions Jean Valjean to bring Christ to others. The rest of Jean Valjean’s life becomes a testimony of one who is made new in the grace of divine love. The bishop’s love erases all previous encounters with religious hypocrisy.
Religious hypocrisy shapes today’s reading from Hosea. The prophet and his divine mentor wish to love their spouses, but the women keep running away from grace and goodness. Religious hypocrisy is also present in the early Christian church in Colossae, where some recipients of divine grace and love begin to trade it in for one-upmanship in the congregation, to their own eternal peril according to Paul. The cure for religious hypocrisy is to recover authentic testimony, as Luke reminds his new Christian friend Theophilus. May it be so as the church worships today!
Hosea 1:2-10
Hosea (whose name is the same as that of Joshua and Jesus, meaning “salvation is of Yahweh”) declared his prophetic message in the northern kingdom of Israel, but probably as a resident of that community. His oral and written communications are dated to the years 750-723 BC because of the rulers identified within the prophecy’s pages.
Hosea had a very bad marriage. His wife, Gomer, was a prostitute before they wed, and bore at least two sons during their time together. It is uncertain, though, whether these children were biologically related to Hosea, since Gomer was not one to stay in her marriage bed at night. Her escapades and his faithful pleadings, which sound more like a soap opera than a biblical drama, became the analogy for Yahweh’s relationship with Israel. Through the voice of Hosea, Yahweh poignantly reviewed the past, detailing the amazing story of love that had brought young Israel into a very privileged and powerful position among the nations of the world. But this rehearsal grew bitter as both Hosea and Yahweh mourned their scorned loves, and wept for their respective wives who were each destroying themselves and their families.
Colossians 2:6-15 (16-19)
Paul’s letter to the Colossians is quite short, but it packs a big punch of theology and perspective. First, Paul celebrates the faithfulness of these disciples of Jesus, and also the great majesty and power of the one they serve (Colossians 1:1-23). After a short declaration of Paul’s immense care for the Colossian congregation (Colossians 1:24--2:5), he addresses the problem that was beginning to divide the congregation (Colossians 2:6-23). Although it is difficult for us to know exactly what were the specific elements of the false teaching that some were embracing, it appears to have included the worship of angels, certain forms of asceticism, and possibly a unique version of how the commands given through Moses were to be kept. These slim details suggest, to some, that an early form of Gnosticism was taking root. Others find a Jewish connection, with certain leaders pushing for a Palestinian ritualistic legalism of the kind that Paul had reacted against so strongly in his letter to the Galatians. Whatever the case, Paul’s response was to urge the congregation to focus on the superlative transformation brought by Jesus, which did not need to be supported with secondary rules and regulations.
In an almost counter-intuitive move, Paul then goes on to give what might be termed “rules” for Christian living. But these commands about marriage, family, and work relationships are more a projection of the social outcomes that should emerge when everyone’s focus remains on Jesus (Colossians 3:1--4:1), rather than a new set of legalistic instructions. It is interesting that after brief statements about the responsibilities of wives (Colossians 3:18), husbands (Colossians 3:19), children (Colossians 3:20), and fathers (Colossians 3:21), Paul’s advice to “slaves” is rather extended (Colossians 3:22-25). Philemon’s slave Onesimus might well be carrying this packet of letters, and would certainly know many of the slaves who were part of this nearby congregation! Paul does include a brief challenge to “masters” as well (Colossians 4:1), exactly in line with the contents of his letter to Onesimus’ master, Philemon. A few personal notes and many personnel reports bring Paul’s letter to a conclusion (Colossians 4:2-18).
The point of Paul’s instructions in Colossians 2 is to remind those who had made an early Christian testimony in Colossae that their continued walk of faith is not dependent upon themselves or their rituals of devotion, but rather on the grace to which they first testified. Sometimes we need to go back to the beginning in order to keep the main thing the main thing. This is what at good personal testimony can do.
Luke 1:1-13
If the portrait of Jesus in Mark’s gospel is that of the Son of God who arrives with great authority to overcome all other powers that demean, demoralize, demonize, dehumanize, and diminish; and the portrait of Jesus in Matthew’s gospel is that of the Messiah King who fulfills Old Testament prophecy, relives the life of Israel, teaches the life of discipleship, and rises to rule over all nations; the gospel of Luke expands these themes for a more specifically Gentile Christian audience. Luke indicates in his introduction (Luke 1:1-4) that he spent time with eyewitnesses of Jesus’ life and ministry in order to gain additional knowledge beyond that which was otherwise available through the oral traditions of the apostles and the written proclamations of Mark’s gospel.
As with the other gospels, putting Luke’s name to it as author is a bit of a detective search, coupled with a reliance on the testimony of early Christian sources. From the gospel itself we become aware that the author is certainly well-educated. He uses excellent literary Greek style and vocabulary, he knows history and current affairs, he is aware of geography and distances in travel, and he understands social customs in various places. He is also curious, and pursues investigative research because he believes that knowledge is a source of wisdom and insight. More than that, the author of this gospel shows a special interest in the sick and the culturally marginalized. More than any of the other gospels, this one resonates with moments when Jesus sees those who have been turned out by polite society, and shows how they matter greatly to God.
The introductions to both this gospel (Luke 1:1-4) and the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 1:1-2) affirm their common authorship. Moreover, when probing who this writer was and where he came from, there is a revealing testimony in Acts 16:6-12. From a literary standpoint, what is interesting about this paragraph, beside the actual details of the travel itinerary, is the change in person from third to first as the narrative moves from beginning to end. It starts with a description of what Paul and his companions were doing, and how they got to Troas. But when this missionary troupe leaves that city, suddenly the narrative becomes personal: “we” traveled on to Macedonia because God had called “us” to preach there.
This indicates that the author of the book of Acts (and thereby the gospel of Luke) was someone living in Troas who joined Paul’s missionary tour from that city. Other notes from Paul’s letters and testimony from the early church indicate that this “someone” was Luke, a doctor who may well have been called in to treat Paul for a recurrent malady. In Colossians 4:14, Paul called Luke “our dear friend... the doctor,” and in the greetings of Philemon 24-25 Luke is listed as one of Paul’s “fellow workers.”
Because many doctors in that world started their professions as slaves who functioned as assistant apprentices to other doctors, some have speculated that this may also have been Luke’s background. It might help explain his constant attention to the oppressed social outcasts encountered by Jesus. Some legends also tell of Luke’s painting skills, but like other tidbits of information we might glean, this is at best speculation.
If we note the first-person testimony as it dips in and out of the narrative of the book of Acts, we find that Luke is with Paul when Paul makes his final visit to Jerusalem (Acts 21:17), around mid-54 AD. Then, when Paul finally sets sail from Palestine to Rome two years later, Luke again identifies himself as a member of the traveling group (Acts 27:1). These years, when Paul is in Palestine under arrest, would likely be the occasion during which Luke was able to interview those who knew Jesus personally.
In the introductory note of his gospel, Luke speaks to his specific intended audience, a man called Theophilus. While this is likely the official name of an actual individual, it is also possible that the term was a nickname or pseudonym for a person whom Luke wanted to protect, because he was in a position of government leadership that could be compromised if he was found to be associating with this suspiciously regarded branch of Judaism. “Theophilus” might also be a generic term used to indicate Christians generally, since it means “God’s friend.” In any case, this person appears to be a recent Gentile convert to Christian beliefs, possibly through Paul’s preaching on one of the mission journeys where Luke was a partner. The designation “most excellent” (Luke 1:3) was often used as a formal manner of address for Roman officials, and this may indicate that Theophilus was a local or regional ruler.
As does Matthew, Luke also augments Mark’s narrative with birth stories (Luke 1-2). Luke not only tells us about Jesus’ miraculous appearance, but also shares the earlier events that precipitated his cousin John’s divinely-initiated conception. Together these things focus on the preparation that took place to ensure Jesus’ appropriate arrival and setting. Luke wants us to know that Jesus came into this world with a divine mandate and under heaven’s clear planning and purpose. With great drama the stories unfold, accompanied by the marvelous songs of Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon, all of whom speak of the reversal of fortune that will be brought about by this wonderful act of God.
Application
The melody of our lives is not sung by the darkest voices within, but by the brightest and best and most bountiful. “Faith,” said Browning, “is my waking life: One sleeps, indeed, and dreams at intervals, we know, but waking’s the main point with us.” And our waking hours are our best hours, our highest moments, our truest feelings.
Charles Dickens’s novel A Tale of Two Cities contains the story of a prisoner who had spent most of his life in the Bastille, the great prison of Paris. In the darkness of the dungeon he cobbled shoes, not knowing day from night.
When he was finally released, he returned to his home in England. But there, in the center of his house, which was flooded by light by large windows, he built a tiny, dark cell of bricks. There he spent his days. When the skies above were sunny and birds sang from every tree, his neighbors could hear the tapping of his hammer as he sat in his narrow cell, comforted by its darkness, smallness, and isolation.
His behavior is not normal. We know it does not reflect the character’s truest self. His emotions have taken him captive, even when his body is free. Our hearts cry out to him “Come outside! Open your eyes to the sunlight. Hear the joy of creation’s song. Here is life. Here is faith. Here is God!”
Someone once took the Old Testament story of Joseph the dreamer -- despised by his brothers, thrown into a pit, and sold as a slave -- and made it our story. He wrote:
Dreamer of dreams? we take the taunt with gladness,
Knowing that God beyond the years you see,
Has wrought the dreams that count with you for madness
Into the texture of the world to be!
With God’s help, we can turn the difficult times of our lives into a song of gladness. Yet many people, said the author Oliver Wendell Holmes, “die with their music still in them.” How unfortunate that they never hear their true melody. How sad that their dreams die within because they’ve never found the doorway to the cathedral of grace, where dark and light are sorted, where sorrow and security are balanced, where doubt and determination are steadied, and where feelings and faith find their proper homes.
If you know the true melody of your life, sing it a little stronger. This is your truest personal testimony. And when you tell it to others, the life it saves may be your own!
Alternative Application
Hosea 1:2-10. The story of Hosea with his unfaithful wife Gomer, mirroring God’s too often aching relationship with his people, is turned on its head when the gospel becomes real and transformative. The tale of Hosea is reversed in the good news mirror of the Happy Hypocrite. It is about a man who lived a worthless life. He used everything for his pleasure and treated women like toys to break and throw away. One day he met a young woman whose life intrigued him. She was a Christian, and her actions supported her testimony of faith.
In order to have his way with her, the man put on a mask of piety. He went to church with her and pretended to be as sincere as the mask he wore. Soon, he thought, when she trusts me, I’ll use her and toss her on the heap of my conquests.
Then something happened that he hadn’t counted on -- he fell in love. He began to truly appreciate and adore this woman. Always he kept his mask in place. Always he played the part of her righteous friend. And gradually she fell in love with him too. Incredible as it seemed to him, they got married, and he found himself enjoying the role of godly husband.
But one day one of his former consorts found out who he was. She was livid. He had used and tossed her aside, and she wanted revenge. She met with him privately, telling him she would reveal the hideous truth to his wonderful wife. She’d crush him just the way he had crushed her so many years before.
She rushed at him to snatch the mask from his face and reveal the ugly man beneath. But when the mask fell away, the face behind it looked just like the pious mask. Love had changed the cruel man’s heart; the habits of his life had molded his face to fit the mask of righteousness.
When Love has its way with us, our face and our life will find its shape in him.
The main character, Jean Valjean, has been beaten hard by the cruel twists of fate. He has seen the sham of hypocrisy on all sides. So he casts the name of the Lord to the ground like a curse. What does God know of him, and what does it matter?
Imprisoned for stealing bread to feed his family and resentenced by the vindictive will of his jailer, Jean Valjean finally manages to escape. On his first night of freedom, he stays with a bishop who treats him well. But behind Jean Valjean’s thankful mask is the cunning face of a thief, for the bishop has many valuables.
In the early morning hours, Jean Valjean steals away with some silver plates. And when his suspicious appearance brings him under arrest, he is forced to face the bishop again, charged with new crimes.
Then the miracle of grace occurs. For in Jean Valjean’s eyes the bishop sees something that begs forgiveness and hopes for mercy. Instead of taking revenge, the bishop declares that the silver dishes were a gift to Jean Valjean. In fact, he says Jean Valjean forgot to take the two silver candlesticks he had also given him.
In an instant, the bishop declares Jean Valjean innocent and gives him back his life. But with this gift of forgiveness, he commissions Jean Valjean to bring Christ to others. The rest of Jean Valjean’s life becomes a testimony of one who is made new in the grace of divine love. The bishop’s love erases all previous encounters with religious hypocrisy.
Religious hypocrisy shapes today’s reading from Hosea. The prophet and his divine mentor wish to love their spouses, but the women keep running away from grace and goodness. Religious hypocrisy is also present in the early Christian church in Colossae, where some recipients of divine grace and love begin to trade it in for one-upmanship in the congregation, to their own eternal peril according to Paul. The cure for religious hypocrisy is to recover authentic testimony, as Luke reminds his new Christian friend Theophilus. May it be so as the church worships today!
Hosea 1:2-10
Hosea (whose name is the same as that of Joshua and Jesus, meaning “salvation is of Yahweh”) declared his prophetic message in the northern kingdom of Israel, but probably as a resident of that community. His oral and written communications are dated to the years 750-723 BC because of the rulers identified within the prophecy’s pages.
Hosea had a very bad marriage. His wife, Gomer, was a prostitute before they wed, and bore at least two sons during their time together. It is uncertain, though, whether these children were biologically related to Hosea, since Gomer was not one to stay in her marriage bed at night. Her escapades and his faithful pleadings, which sound more like a soap opera than a biblical drama, became the analogy for Yahweh’s relationship with Israel. Through the voice of Hosea, Yahweh poignantly reviewed the past, detailing the amazing story of love that had brought young Israel into a very privileged and powerful position among the nations of the world. But this rehearsal grew bitter as both Hosea and Yahweh mourned their scorned loves, and wept for their respective wives who were each destroying themselves and their families.
Colossians 2:6-15 (16-19)
Paul’s letter to the Colossians is quite short, but it packs a big punch of theology and perspective. First, Paul celebrates the faithfulness of these disciples of Jesus, and also the great majesty and power of the one they serve (Colossians 1:1-23). After a short declaration of Paul’s immense care for the Colossian congregation (Colossians 1:24--2:5), he addresses the problem that was beginning to divide the congregation (Colossians 2:6-23). Although it is difficult for us to know exactly what were the specific elements of the false teaching that some were embracing, it appears to have included the worship of angels, certain forms of asceticism, and possibly a unique version of how the commands given through Moses were to be kept. These slim details suggest, to some, that an early form of Gnosticism was taking root. Others find a Jewish connection, with certain leaders pushing for a Palestinian ritualistic legalism of the kind that Paul had reacted against so strongly in his letter to the Galatians. Whatever the case, Paul’s response was to urge the congregation to focus on the superlative transformation brought by Jesus, which did not need to be supported with secondary rules and regulations.
In an almost counter-intuitive move, Paul then goes on to give what might be termed “rules” for Christian living. But these commands about marriage, family, and work relationships are more a projection of the social outcomes that should emerge when everyone’s focus remains on Jesus (Colossians 3:1--4:1), rather than a new set of legalistic instructions. It is interesting that after brief statements about the responsibilities of wives (Colossians 3:18), husbands (Colossians 3:19), children (Colossians 3:20), and fathers (Colossians 3:21), Paul’s advice to “slaves” is rather extended (Colossians 3:22-25). Philemon’s slave Onesimus might well be carrying this packet of letters, and would certainly know many of the slaves who were part of this nearby congregation! Paul does include a brief challenge to “masters” as well (Colossians 4:1), exactly in line with the contents of his letter to Onesimus’ master, Philemon. A few personal notes and many personnel reports bring Paul’s letter to a conclusion (Colossians 4:2-18).
The point of Paul’s instructions in Colossians 2 is to remind those who had made an early Christian testimony in Colossae that their continued walk of faith is not dependent upon themselves or their rituals of devotion, but rather on the grace to which they first testified. Sometimes we need to go back to the beginning in order to keep the main thing the main thing. This is what at good personal testimony can do.
Luke 1:1-13
If the portrait of Jesus in Mark’s gospel is that of the Son of God who arrives with great authority to overcome all other powers that demean, demoralize, demonize, dehumanize, and diminish; and the portrait of Jesus in Matthew’s gospel is that of the Messiah King who fulfills Old Testament prophecy, relives the life of Israel, teaches the life of discipleship, and rises to rule over all nations; the gospel of Luke expands these themes for a more specifically Gentile Christian audience. Luke indicates in his introduction (Luke 1:1-4) that he spent time with eyewitnesses of Jesus’ life and ministry in order to gain additional knowledge beyond that which was otherwise available through the oral traditions of the apostles and the written proclamations of Mark’s gospel.
As with the other gospels, putting Luke’s name to it as author is a bit of a detective search, coupled with a reliance on the testimony of early Christian sources. From the gospel itself we become aware that the author is certainly well-educated. He uses excellent literary Greek style and vocabulary, he knows history and current affairs, he is aware of geography and distances in travel, and he understands social customs in various places. He is also curious, and pursues investigative research because he believes that knowledge is a source of wisdom and insight. More than that, the author of this gospel shows a special interest in the sick and the culturally marginalized. More than any of the other gospels, this one resonates with moments when Jesus sees those who have been turned out by polite society, and shows how they matter greatly to God.
The introductions to both this gospel (Luke 1:1-4) and the Acts of the Apostles (Acts 1:1-2) affirm their common authorship. Moreover, when probing who this writer was and where he came from, there is a revealing testimony in Acts 16:6-12. From a literary standpoint, what is interesting about this paragraph, beside the actual details of the travel itinerary, is the change in person from third to first as the narrative moves from beginning to end. It starts with a description of what Paul and his companions were doing, and how they got to Troas. But when this missionary troupe leaves that city, suddenly the narrative becomes personal: “we” traveled on to Macedonia because God had called “us” to preach there.
This indicates that the author of the book of Acts (and thereby the gospel of Luke) was someone living in Troas who joined Paul’s missionary tour from that city. Other notes from Paul’s letters and testimony from the early church indicate that this “someone” was Luke, a doctor who may well have been called in to treat Paul for a recurrent malady. In Colossians 4:14, Paul called Luke “our dear friend... the doctor,” and in the greetings of Philemon 24-25 Luke is listed as one of Paul’s “fellow workers.”
Because many doctors in that world started their professions as slaves who functioned as assistant apprentices to other doctors, some have speculated that this may also have been Luke’s background. It might help explain his constant attention to the oppressed social outcasts encountered by Jesus. Some legends also tell of Luke’s painting skills, but like other tidbits of information we might glean, this is at best speculation.
If we note the first-person testimony as it dips in and out of the narrative of the book of Acts, we find that Luke is with Paul when Paul makes his final visit to Jerusalem (Acts 21:17), around mid-54 AD. Then, when Paul finally sets sail from Palestine to Rome two years later, Luke again identifies himself as a member of the traveling group (Acts 27:1). These years, when Paul is in Palestine under arrest, would likely be the occasion during which Luke was able to interview those who knew Jesus personally.
In the introductory note of his gospel, Luke speaks to his specific intended audience, a man called Theophilus. While this is likely the official name of an actual individual, it is also possible that the term was a nickname or pseudonym for a person whom Luke wanted to protect, because he was in a position of government leadership that could be compromised if he was found to be associating with this suspiciously regarded branch of Judaism. “Theophilus” might also be a generic term used to indicate Christians generally, since it means “God’s friend.” In any case, this person appears to be a recent Gentile convert to Christian beliefs, possibly through Paul’s preaching on one of the mission journeys where Luke was a partner. The designation “most excellent” (Luke 1:3) was often used as a formal manner of address for Roman officials, and this may indicate that Theophilus was a local or regional ruler.
As does Matthew, Luke also augments Mark’s narrative with birth stories (Luke 1-2). Luke not only tells us about Jesus’ miraculous appearance, but also shares the earlier events that precipitated his cousin John’s divinely-initiated conception. Together these things focus on the preparation that took place to ensure Jesus’ appropriate arrival and setting. Luke wants us to know that Jesus came into this world with a divine mandate and under heaven’s clear planning and purpose. With great drama the stories unfold, accompanied by the marvelous songs of Mary, Zechariah, and Simeon, all of whom speak of the reversal of fortune that will be brought about by this wonderful act of God.
Application
The melody of our lives is not sung by the darkest voices within, but by the brightest and best and most bountiful. “Faith,” said Browning, “is my waking life: One sleeps, indeed, and dreams at intervals, we know, but waking’s the main point with us.” And our waking hours are our best hours, our highest moments, our truest feelings.
Charles Dickens’s novel A Tale of Two Cities contains the story of a prisoner who had spent most of his life in the Bastille, the great prison of Paris. In the darkness of the dungeon he cobbled shoes, not knowing day from night.
When he was finally released, he returned to his home in England. But there, in the center of his house, which was flooded by light by large windows, he built a tiny, dark cell of bricks. There he spent his days. When the skies above were sunny and birds sang from every tree, his neighbors could hear the tapping of his hammer as he sat in his narrow cell, comforted by its darkness, smallness, and isolation.
His behavior is not normal. We know it does not reflect the character’s truest self. His emotions have taken him captive, even when his body is free. Our hearts cry out to him “Come outside! Open your eyes to the sunlight. Hear the joy of creation’s song. Here is life. Here is faith. Here is God!”
Someone once took the Old Testament story of Joseph the dreamer -- despised by his brothers, thrown into a pit, and sold as a slave -- and made it our story. He wrote:
Dreamer of dreams? we take the taunt with gladness,
Knowing that God beyond the years you see,
Has wrought the dreams that count with you for madness
Into the texture of the world to be!
With God’s help, we can turn the difficult times of our lives into a song of gladness. Yet many people, said the author Oliver Wendell Holmes, “die with their music still in them.” How unfortunate that they never hear their true melody. How sad that their dreams die within because they’ve never found the doorway to the cathedral of grace, where dark and light are sorted, where sorrow and security are balanced, where doubt and determination are steadied, and where feelings and faith find their proper homes.
If you know the true melody of your life, sing it a little stronger. This is your truest personal testimony. And when you tell it to others, the life it saves may be your own!
Alternative Application
Hosea 1:2-10. The story of Hosea with his unfaithful wife Gomer, mirroring God’s too often aching relationship with his people, is turned on its head when the gospel becomes real and transformative. The tale of Hosea is reversed in the good news mirror of the Happy Hypocrite. It is about a man who lived a worthless life. He used everything for his pleasure and treated women like toys to break and throw away. One day he met a young woman whose life intrigued him. She was a Christian, and her actions supported her testimony of faith.
In order to have his way with her, the man put on a mask of piety. He went to church with her and pretended to be as sincere as the mask he wore. Soon, he thought, when she trusts me, I’ll use her and toss her on the heap of my conquests.
Then something happened that he hadn’t counted on -- he fell in love. He began to truly appreciate and adore this woman. Always he kept his mask in place. Always he played the part of her righteous friend. And gradually she fell in love with him too. Incredible as it seemed to him, they got married, and he found himself enjoying the role of godly husband.
But one day one of his former consorts found out who he was. She was livid. He had used and tossed her aside, and she wanted revenge. She met with him privately, telling him she would reveal the hideous truth to his wonderful wife. She’d crush him just the way he had crushed her so many years before.
She rushed at him to snatch the mask from his face and reveal the ugly man beneath. But when the mask fell away, the face behind it looked just like the pious mask. Love had changed the cruel man’s heart; the habits of his life had molded his face to fit the mask of righteousness.
When Love has its way with us, our face and our life will find its shape in him.
