“Since all these things are to be dissolved in this way, what sort of people ought you to be in living lives of holiness and godliness, waiting and hastening the coming of the day of God…? (II Peter 3:11-12)
I am struck, as I read this week’s Epistle reading from II Peter, by the repeated use of the word dissolved. The writer speaks of the day of the Lord coming like a thief, in a dramatic transformation of the world. Elements and even the heavens will be dissolved and set ablaze, and everything will melt with fire.
I can’t imagine living day to day with this harsh expectation! Most of us take comfort in the assumption that the world will be basically the same tomorrow as it is today. The early Christians, by contrast, looked forward to a cataclysmic change, because they believed it would be a change for the better.
As an interim minister, I’m learning to live in a world a bit more like theirs: one in which big change may happen at any moment. Some time in the future, a new pastor will be called, and the whole landscape of the church I serve will change. But I don’t know when or how. This is the nature of an interim “calling”.
I struggle with the fear and excitement that comes with knowing change is always in the wind. How do we anticipate a future we don’t know? How can I help my congregation plan and prepare for the unknown? How do I maintain that professional, “non-anxious presence” in a setting where I am invested emotionally? Do I look forward with hope, or with trepidation?
Here in II Peter, there are hints of what we can do with ourselves in an unsettled time, when we know changes are coming that we may not have much control over. We may ask ourselves, as God asks us:
In this kind of time, what sort of people ought we to be?
This is a different question than: What should we do while we’re waiting? It is less about what we do and more about who we choose to be.
In both “waiting for” and “hastening” the day, we can consider which of our qualities and gifts are most needed by our faith families. Patience. Alertness. Confidence in God’s care for us. A sense of historical perspective. Openness to surprises of the Holy Spirit. A sense of humor. Attention to acts of compassion. You can think of others.
These are Advent qualities: characteristics that allow us to wait attentively for the new thing that God is doing. We learn them from people like Mary, who offered herself, body and soul, as God’s handmaid. Or Zechariah, who chose faithful listening when he was silenced. Or the Magi, who walked without knowing who or what they were following through the dark.
I wish every church could learn to see every time as “interim time”. Then maybe we would realize that change is constant, and we would start paying attention not just to what we should do, but to what God is doing, and what sort of people we ought to be in response to that.