Sunday 06 • 02 • 19

Therefore, preparing your minds for action and being sober minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct. Since it is written, you shall be holy for I am holy. And if you call on him as father, who judges impartially according to one's deeds, conduct yourselves with fear throughout the time of your exile, knowing that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your forefathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot. He was foreknown before the foundation of the world, but was made manifest in the last times for the sake of you, who through him are believers in God, who raised him from the dead and gave him glory so that your faith and hope are in God. — 1 Peter 1:13-21

Father, we pray that you would come. We pray that your spirit would work among us. We pray as we open your word, Lord, that you would come and meet us in our places of unbelief and doubts, fears, concerns, and worries, insecurity. Lord, we pray that you would come by your power and encourage us in the gospel this morning. In Jesus name, amen.

So my wife, Susan, had this motto in high school. I think it's a great one. It's: if you're not a little bit weird, you're a lot boring. She actually has a T-shirt with that on there too and, yeah, I think the apostle Peter would love that. If you're not a little bit weird, you're a lot boring. That really fits this book.

First Peter addresses this book to exiles, elect exiles scattered throughout the world. And then here in verse 17, this passage again calls us—he says that we are in the time of our exile. And then a couple weeks from now, we'll read from chapter two that calls us as God's people, aliens and sojourners, exiles in this place, strangers, people who are not from here. A sense that you don't belong. That this life as a Christian means that you are weird in a good way.

Three Postures: Immigrant, Tourist, Exile

Now, if you are not from some place, if you're not from this country, you're here in one of several capacities. You're here either as an immigrant or a tourist or an exile. And I want to think about all three of those briefly because I think Christians inhabit each of those.

An immigrant is somebody who's not from here, and yet this place is now your new permanent home. Your goal is to be like people from here, to learn the language, the customs, to fit in and be a part. And this is what lots of Christians do in this world. We think a lot about here, about this place being our permanent home. So concerned about how things are turning out here. Leverage our resources for a comfortable life here. Worry about reputation here. Worried about things that we're going to miss out on here. This is things where we say to ourselves like, hey, you only got one shot at this life. Make it count. Or what you miss this time around, you miss forever. That's an immigrant mindset.

Another version is a tourist. A tourist is someone who never really gets involved, who visits a place, but you're just passing through. You may not learn the language. You sort of want versions of the things you're comfortable with in that foreign location. So you go visit that foreign city and you find the Starbucks. You stay in western hotels. You seek out the Big Mac in the foreign city. You're looking for things that are of comfort here. And, again, this is the attitude a lot of Christians have. They're like, hey, I'm going to stay separate. Never get involved. I'm just passing through. I'm just waiting to get raptured with Kirk Cameron off this trailer park planet. That's what I'm waiting for. Just don't plug in.

And then the third one, though—the third posture that we can have—is one of an exile. This is what Peter talks about. You're not trying to fit in like an immigrant. You're not just passing through like a tourist. You are stationed here, and you sort of plant your life here, but for the good of other people. You're like, this isn't home, but I am living here for the good of other people around here.

Peter's Own Example

So I want you to think about this, though. The funny thing to me is the person who writes this letter. We studied a couple of incidents in the life of Peter, particularly the end of his time with Jesus. And this was a couple months ago, right around Easter, and we saw Peter's actions. He did not act like what he's describing here.

So there's a scene where Peter follows Jesus after Jesus has been arrested, and they take Jesus to the house of the high priest where Jesus will stand on trial in front of the religious leaders. And Peter is out in the courtyard. But what is his posture?

He is trying, like, the best he can to not be noticed. He doesn't want to stand out. He doesn't want people to know who he really is. He wants to follow Jesus incognito. Right? He wants to follow Jesus but not be too identified with Jesus. And I think that's the posture of we resist this exile status.

I mean, Peter wrote these things. But notice here, Peter doesn't seem to be bemoaning this exilic position that the church is in. He doesn't seem to be resisting it or fighting it. Now, I think there's a lot of rhetoric right now in the church in the United States as if this was the worst possible moment ever. This is the worst time ever for Christians. And I want to challenge that a little bit because it's true that the church has changed its place in the cultural hierarchy in the United States. We've gone from a Christendom culture where you could argue the church was at the top to now the church is we're in a post-Christian culture. The church is not in a position of power.

In fact, one historian, Stanley Wallace, outlines five transitions that the church has experienced as we've gone from Christendom in the last generations to post-Christian, and this is what he says. We've gone from the center to the margins. We've gone from the majority to a minority. We've gone from settlers to sojourners. We've gone from control being in power to witness and from maintenance to mission.

So let's just be honest though about our rhetoric because while the church is no longer on the top of the heap here, we are not in Syria. I mean, we're not some persecuted church in Iraq. We're not in China. We're not in Northern India. This isn't like the worst possible place to live as a Christian. We need to be careful about our language about things like this.

And let me just say one more thing. Exile posture is what minority churches in the United States have only known. Right? Go to the black church. They have only known a not-in-power position in society. Go to Hispanic and Latino churches. They've only known a fringe exilic posture toward the rest of the culture. Go to Asian churches. Like, they have not been in power. It's only white people. It's only white churches that are experiencing the sense of displacement right now from being cultural leader to cultural margins. And actually, we have a lot to learn, therefore, from minority churches in the United States about what it means to live in this place with integrity. We have a lot to learn.

Three Actions for Exile

So this is what we need to embrace: to belong to Jesus means to be an exile in the land of your birth. To be weird in a good way. Now, I know this church well, and I know you guys love checklists, and I know you love marking things off and feeling accomplishment. You like doing things and feeling like you get stuff done. So Peter is here for you today, and he's got for you three actions, three activities of what it means to embrace this exile, weird-in-a-good-way posture and here they are, okay? Live in hope, live in holiness, live in fear.

Live in Hope

Live in hope. Verse 13. Literally, it says here, Peter tells us to set our hope.

Preparing your minds for action, being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

Now, if you have frequent flyer miles with CTK, if you've been around here at all through this series in First Peter so far, we've talked a lot about hope. Peter starts this book saying, "You, if you're a Christian, if you're a believer in the Lord Jesus Christ, you have a living hope." That hope for believers is not an it, it's a he. It's not a concept, it's a person. It's a resurrected person. It's Jesus Christ.

But do you notice what he's saying here? He's saying, you have this living hope, but you need to set your hope fully. Isn't that bizarre that he would say that? You have this, but set your hope fully on this. And why would he say that? I think you know why. I think you know why because for most Christians—I'd say for all Christians, okay—our hope so often is set on our circumstances. It's set on things being better tomorrow than they are today.

So we have things in our heads like, "Hey, one day I'm going to get the recognition that I deserve. One day I'm going to have a better job that's really fulfilling and with a great salary, right? One day I'm going to have the friend squad that I really long for. One day I'm going to have this kind of family. One day I'll be married. One day, one day, one day." We always have our sights set on the future being like leveling up from where we are today. Things just being a little bit better.

And no matter what you believe, it's possible to have a living hope in Jesus and yet having your hopes set on tomorrow—circumstances, little bit better, little bit better, level up. See, and here, this is where Peter says to us, set your hope fully. I mean, think poker, okay?

Not a very churchy example, but think poker. I mean, this is the hand where you're like, I am all in. Right? I'm not hedging my bets. Or think about the roulette wheel. You put all your money on that number, and you're waiting for the little ball to bounce around and land at that number because you are all in.

And this is what Peter is saying to us. You have hope. You have a living hope. But set your hopes fully—all in, everything you have. And you can't just have a hope as a Christian. You got to bet on it. You have to give yourselves to hope. I think many of us who believe fall asleep to this all the time. We diversify our assets. We hedge our bets. We play it safe. Peter's like, no playing it safe. Exiles are all in. Exiles—people who are weird in a good way—are all in.

Now, let me ask you a question. What is the worst outcome for your life if you were a Christian? What's the worst possible outcome for your life if you're a Christian? Eternal happiness with Jesus forever. Like, worst possible scenario: eternal bliss, delight, enjoyment of Jesus forever. That's the worst possible outcome for your life.

It will be brought to you with the revelation of Jesus Christ. — 1 Peter 1:13

So if you set your hopes fully on Him, you begin to dream different dreams for yourself and people around you. You don't fit in. And guess what? You don't have to. You're okay with being weird in a good way. You aren't devastated by bad news. You're not disappointed if you don't get all the trips in. If you don't get the great body and everything that goes with it. You don't get all the dreams. You don't get the great person. There's no bucket list because when you kick the bucket, eternal delight with Jesus forever. You have an eternal destiny. Only exiles live this way.

If you set your hope fully, those of you who are parents, you dream different dreams for your kids. Everybody dreams for healthy, well-adjusted children. Doesn't everybody want that? Boring. Exiles dream for their kids to not fit in—weird in a good way. For them not just to be a nice, well-adjusted human being, but for your kids to be all in. We dream different. We talk different. We think different. Exiles hope and set their hopes fully on the grace that is to be revealed in Jesus Christ. Only exiles live this way.

Live in Holiness

Second, live in holiness. Now, I know holiness is everybody's not favorite part of the sermon. So look at verses 14 through 16.

As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who has called you is holy, you be holy in all your conduct. — 1 Peter 1:14-16

Nobody wants to hear this part. One pastor down in Charlotte, North Carolina, Kevin DeYoung, compares holiness and camping. And I love how he does this. He says:

I'll never understand the attraction of camping. Although I have plenty of friends and relatives who are avid campers, it always seems strange to me that someone would work hard all year so they can go live outside for a week. I mean, I get the togetherness stuff, but why do it intense with community toilets? Packing up the van like Noah's Ark, driving to a mosquito-infested campground where you reconstitute an inconvenient version of your kitchen and your bedroom doesn't make sense. Who decided that vacation should be like normal life, only harder? As best I can tell, the appeal of camping is that the kids, unbothered by parental involvement, run around free and dirty, sun up to sundown, a sort of Lord of the Flies for little people. There must be a cleaner, less humid way to export the children for the week. Camping may be great for other people, but I'm content to never talk about it, never think about it, never do it. Knock yourselves out with your cooler and collapsible chairs. Camping is not required of me, and I am fine with that.

Now this is what he says. He goes on to say, I think most Christians think of camping and holiness in the same way. Like, it's fine for other people. That's great if you were raised in one of those churches who talks about this all the time. Like, that's not my passion. I'm doing well enough just to get through an already impossible life or an already impossible week. To think about holiness just feels like one extra thing. Sure, it might be great to be a better person. You do hope to avoid the really big sins. You figure, hey, we're saved by grace. Holiness is not required from you, and frankly, your life seems fine without it.

Anybody relate to that? I love that. That makes sense. I agree with him. See, I think that what he's on to here is something that's really right biblically. Our ideas of holiness are kind of off.

Our ideas of holiness may be a little off. It's key to remember that the two words in the Bible for holy—in the Hebrew, Kadosh; in Greek, Hagios—they mean separate, different, distinct. This is how God is described.

God, there is none holy like the Lord. — Exodus 15:11

He is other. He is distinct. He is different. He is set apart. The temple—David talked about this morning—the curtains separated people from God because God is holy. When Israel forgot this in the Old Testament, bad things happened. When they began to treat God as casually, like, "Who cares?"

So in the building of the tabernacle and of the temple, there are special pieces of furniture that were called holy. Think about that for a second. Doesn't that challenge the way that we think about holy as like stuck up and better than, stuffy, sterile, boring? To have a bowl or a lampstand called holy means that there's nothing morally more pure or better. It means that it was set apart from common use for God's special use.

And guess what? The prophets had this dream. This was their dream.

One day, the bells for the horses, it's going to say, "Holy to the Lord" written on it. — Zechariah 14

He dreamt of a day when everything would be set apart for the Lord and the Lord's glory would fill the earth like the waters cover the sea. That was his hope. He didn't think about that like we think about camping. It wasn't like, "Oh, that's fine for other people." He was like, "That's what we want." So it must mean something different from the way we think about that.

So let's take that definition of holiness and apply it to this passage and see if it makes more sense. Holiness as set apart. Listen to verses 15 and 16 again:

But as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct. Since it is written, "You should be holy, for I am holy." — 1 Peter 1:15-16

Now, think about this. There's a paradox here. Just like there's a paradox of hope, there's a paradox of holiness. Do you know what a paradox is? It's something that seems one way, but it's really another way. There's irony. There's like a little twist.

So remember this. Here's the paradox of hope: You have a living hope, so set all your hope fully on him. Here's the paradox of holiness: I've set you apart, now live set apart lives. You are holy, now live holy. How can he say that?

The Adoption into God's Family

Here's why. Look at verse 14:

As obedient children, be holy in all your conduct. — 1 Peter 1:14

One of the great myths in our culture is that everybody is a child of God. There's a universal fatherhood of God. That sounds really good—like father God, mother earth. It's not true. It's not true biblically. The Bible says that naturally, all people are not children of God. They are children of wrath. We're under God's curse unless God comes and adopts us into his family.

He shows up at the orphanage. He finds you. He picks you up—nothing special about you—but he picks you up, and he takes you, and he says, "You've got a new name now. You're part of my family now. You have all the benefits, all the rights of those who are part of this family."

So this is what he's saying: You are adopted into my family not by anything you've done, but by grace alone. You're brought in. Now, as obedient children, as children of God, live holy lives.

Now, if that sounds bizarre to you, and if you're like, "I don't know about this whole holiness thing," read the rest of the New Testament. In all the letters of the New Testament, especially all the ones that Paul wrote, he writes them to the saints. He writes to the saints because that's who you are now. If you are adopted into God's family, this is what he calls you. Not saints like Mother Teresa—saint like everything's put together—but saints who are positionally in Christ. You are holy, now be holy. You are saints, now become saintly.

Now, if that sounds odd to you, if that sounds weird to you, think about this. Paul doesn't write letters like, "Hey, to the church of screw-ups in Rome who might get it right someday." No, he writes:

To the church, the saints in Rome — Romans 1:7

And then he instructs them about how to live. He doesn't address it to the church in Corinth like, "Hey, to the dumpster fire church in Corinth." Man, if you read Corinthians, it's crazy, right? But he writes to the saints in Corinth. The most immoral church in the New Testament—to the saints. This is the ethic of the New Testament.

Be who you are in Christ. Become what you already are in Christ. You're set apart, now live set apart lives. You're holy, now live holy. Is that how we see the world? I mean, is that how you see the world?

I want to ask you—you know, parents, those of you with kids—is your number one hope for your life, for the life of your kid, that they would be a saint? You look at them, you're like, "little saints"? No, you don't, do you? That's right.

What about this? If you're thinking about a spouse, a future spouse, you want to be married—is your number one goal in life a saint? I mean, what if you put that on one of the dating apps? "Looking for a saint out there, right?"

Let's take this even further home. When you get up in the morning, you brush your teeth, and you look in the mirror, do you look at yourself and say, "Saint"? Jesus does. Jesus looks at you—my very own treasured possession, holy, saint. I mean, what if you put this on your Facebook profile? That's who I am. You can find all kinds of criticism for your family, right? But you know, only exiles think this way. Only exiles think this way.

The Implications Are Huge

The implications for this idea are huge. I mean, they're so big. Just help me walk through this with me. This means that you look at your body and say, "I'm a saint. This is Christ's sacred possession, this body." You open up your laptop, you're looking at your calendar, you're like, "My time, God's sacred possession." You open up your banking app. You look at what's in there, and you're like, "God's sacred possession, my money." You look at your possessions. These are God's sacred possessions. See, as if "holy to the Lord" was written on everything that you own. You're like, "I am his. I'm set apart. I'm his dearly beloved child. He's called me a saint. Now I'm seeking to live this way." Only exiles live like this. Only exiles live like this.

Do you remember the movie by Steven Spielberg called Schindler's List? It was about a man in 1940s Germany who operates a factory where he employs thousands of workers. He realizes that a lot of his workers are Jewish, and he begins to watch as a businessman the extermination—the systemic extermination of the Jewish people by the Nazi regime. He realizes he can do something about it, and so he begins to do business in such a way that at the end of the movie he preserves the lives of about 1,100 Jewish people who worked in his manufacturing plant.

And yet, there's this chilling scene. If you watch the movie—if you haven't watched it, go watch this—but the chilling scene at the end is where it dawns on him that he could have done more. He's sitting there with his secretary with the list in front of him of the 1,100 names, and Schindler is just undone. He begins to realize: "My car. Why did I keep my car? I could have sold this car and rescued more. This watch—why did I keep this watch? I mean, how many lives is this worth? I could have sold this and rescued more." He's just going through it. It's this picture of incredible regret.

You know, I think that when we come at the end of our lives face to face with our Savior Jesus, I think if it's possible to feel regret, I don't know if it is, but if it's possible, we will feel regret for one thing: not being more all in. Not being more like, "Why did I hedge my bets? Why did I hold back? Why was I afraid to be different? Why wasn't I more all in? Why didn't I live a more set apart life? Why didn't I give up more? I mean, it was incredibly worth it." Only exiles live with that kind of upside-down mentality about this life.

Live in Fear

Last point here: live in fear. Verses 17 through 21. And again, bizarre words here. This is going to sound really odd. He says—Peter says:

"As you call upon him, the Father, who judges impartially, conduct yourselves with fear through the time of your exile." — 1 Peter 1:17

Does that strike you as abrasive? Is that weird? It should be a little bit abrasive to you. Wait—children of God live in fear? I thought God always came to people and said, "Don't fear." Why is he calling them to fear?

Well, it reminds me of Psalm 130, verse 4:

"If you, O Lord, kept a record of sins, who could stand? But with you there is forgiveness, that you may be feared." — Psalm 130:3-4

Again, it's the same thing—forgiven, fear? I mean, we'd expect maybe the Bible to say, "Hey, with you there is justice that you might be feared," or "with you there's forgiveness that you might be loved." But forgiveness leads to fear?

Let's think about this. Again, this is a paradox, not two doctrines. Right? Paradox. You have the hope paradox.

Remember, you have a hope. You have a living hope in Jesus. Be all in on that hope. Set your hopes fully. The holiness paradox. Right? God has set you apart as His chosen possession. You are a child of His. Now live set apart lives.

Here's this one. I'm going to sum it up, and then I'll explain it. Here it is: Fear the judge of all the earth. Fear the judge of all the earth even though your judgment day has moved from some future unknown date to past. From future to past.

Now, let me break that down for you. Peter says here, some of the most beautiful language about Jesus and his sacrifice for us anywhere in the New Testament, and it's almost poetic. He says here, he makes this comparison. He says there are all these riches in this life, imperishable metals, gold and silver, right, wealth. And he compares that to the blood of Jesus for sinners. What was done for you on the cross? And he makes this comparison. He's like, what's more valuable? And as he looks at these, he says, imperishable metals. Notice the language here. He calls them perishable. He's like these things in the face of the incredible, incomparable value of the cross and the blood of Jesus for us, it's like they melt away. It's like they don't even matter. They're just dust. They don't even have value by comparison. The lamb without blemish or defect given for you. The cross, what's really given to you.

Now, look here at the connecting words. I know this is getting a little nerdy. Hang in with me. Verse 18 says:

Knowing that you've been ransomed, knowing that God has given the ultimate price for you in sending his son to die for you... — 1 Peter 1:18

Knowing that, live a life of fearing the Father, the one who you call Father, who's also a judge. Here's what this means. There's a fear that is a fear of punishment. That is one kind of fear and you know, it's good for our kids to know that one. But there's another kind of fear which is awe and delight and shock and being overwhelmed and worship and enjoyment and wonder.

See, if you're a believer, you have been ransomed, past tense. That happened. Your judgment day occurred on a hill outside Jerusalem two thousand years ago. God, knowing the sins that you've committed this week, sent his son before you were even born, before your parents even thought about you. Two thousand years ago, on a hill outside Jerusalem, you were ransomed. Your judgment day fell upon Jesus. He received the full judgment of God for your sins.

And so that unknown day when God will come back and bring all the world in front of him and there will be a judgment for all people—see, as a believer in Christ, we don't fear that. Our judgment has moved from future to past. To a day outside Jerusalem, two thousand years ago. Back to Calvary. We don't fear punishment anymore.

See, exiles have no fear of being judged. Jesus was judged for us. And yet exiles live with this holy fear, with this holy awe and worship and reverence and desire to please Jesus in every way because of how incredible His death was for us, what He's done for you.

The Cost of Our Redemption

Martin Lloyd Jones gives this illustration. He says, let's say that tomorrow you came home from work, and as you came up your walkway to your house, your best friend's sitting on the front steps of your house. You're like, "Oh, hey, what are you doing?" "Oh, you know, I'm just hanging out waiting for you. Oh, I got your mail by the way. Postman came. There was a bill in there and I paid it."

Now, Lloyd Jones says, you don't know how to respond in that moment to what that person says. It could be like that bill was for postage due on a letter. And what you say is like, "Wait, that's great. You paid $0.50 for me. High five. Thanks, buddy." Or it could be that that person opened up a letter that was addressed from the IRS and had hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt that you owe, crushing debt. And this friend pays that bill for you. You don't know how to respond—whether you high five, "Thanks buddy," or you throw yourself at your friend's feet and kiss his feet or her feet out of incredible gratitude.

This is the thing about Christians. The longer that you walk as a Christian, what is normal, what should be normal for us, is the more and more that you're aware of how much Jesus has done for you. See, at the beginning, you're like, "Hey, Jesus. Thanks, buddy. 50¢ on return postage. You paid for my sins." And some of you have that story from your childhood. You're like, "Yeah, I remember my 50¢ moment." Right?

But as you walk through this life, you are more and more aware of the ledger. And that's not because you're just adding to it, which you are. Like, the longer you live, the more you're adding to it, but you're more aware of the depth of your sin. You're more aware of the things you have capacity to do. You're more aware of the way the nastiness of your sin.

The ways that you delight actually in hurting yourself and other people, in running away from Jesus and disobeying him. You're more aware of it. See, exiles, the longer that you're a Christian, you go like, hey, that wasn't 50¢. That's like a Mount Everest sized debt that Jesus has paid for me. I had no idea when I first came to him of how good this is in Christ.

See, this is how exiles live. More and more, they're like, hey, I know what it lives to live. I live in holy fear of God because I'm more and more aware of what Christ has done for me. This lamb without blemish or defect. How much he's paid for me.

Let me sum it up this way. Exiles, people who are weird in a good way, we live lives of hope that make us incredibly bold. Exiles, people who are weird in a good way live lives that are holy, that make us really, really distinct, different. And exiles, people who are weird in a good way, live lives in fear that leads to incredible humility.

I mean, you want to make a difference in this world. Boldness, distinction, humility—that's a win in hand. That's an incredible combination.

The Cellist of Sarajevo

Let me close this way. In 03/27/1992, a grenade was thrown into a crowd waiting for bread at a bakery in Sarajevo, Bosnia Herzegovina, killing twenty two people, injuring many more. Down the street from that bakery lived a man named Vedrin Smelovic, who was the principal cellist for the Sarajevo Orchestra at the time.

And the next morning, Smelovic got dressed, put on his tuxedo, pulled out his best cello, took a folding chair, and walked down the street to the crater where the grenade was thrown, the remains of that bakery. And he opened up his cello and he played Tommaso Albioni's Adagio in G Major the whole way through and repeated that for twenty one more days, one for each of the victims that had died in the grenade.

And then after that, for two more years, he kept getting up every morning, putting on his tuxedo, taking his cello, and playing the same song in places all over Sarajevo that had been bombed where people lost life in places of rubble and damage. He was never injured in all the time of his playing.

When he was asked about by a CNN reporter if he was not crazy for playing his cello in war zone while Sarajevo was being shelled, Smelovic replied, "You asked me, am I crazy for playing the cello? Why do you not ask if they are not crazy for shelling Sarajevo?"

I mean, what an exile—bold, distinct, humble exile posture.

You and I are not principal cellists in the Sarajevo orchestra, and we may live lives that are kind of small and seem insignificant. But we live in a broken world. We live in a world that is bombed out in lots of ways, where we see damage and destruction all around us.

See, and you have an opportunity, and I have an opportunity to be weird in a good way to people whose lives around us who are falling apart, to show them boldness and distinction and humility. To not live as immigrants or tourists, but exiles.

May God give us grace as a community to sow hope and so live. In Jesus name. Amen.