Building up our fellow Christians.

1 Thessalonians 5.12-18.

This is the last chapter of 1 Thessalonians, and we’re getting to the part where the apostles wrapped up the letter: They moved away from the specific concerns of this particular church, and gave the same general advice they’d give any Christians of any church. So of course these things apply to us as well.

1 Thessalonians 5.12-18 KWL

12 Fellow Christians, we ask you to get to know those who labor hardest among you,

who stand up for you in the Master, and correct you.

13 We ask you to be led by them, more in love than anything,

because of the work they do. Keep the peace with one another.

14 Fellow Christians, we urge you to correct the irreligious.

Share your story with those who keep messing up. Help the weak. Be patient with all.

15 Watch out lest anyone might pay back evil for evil;

instead always pursue good for one another, and everyone.

16 Always rejoice.

17 Pray without slacking.

18 Give thanks for everything,

for this is God’s will, in Christ Jesus, for you all.

In it, we see advice on how to treat Christian leaders, and how to treat the ἀτάκτους/atáktus (KJV “unruly”) and ὀλιγοψύχους/oliyopsýhus (KJV “feebleminded”) —two terms which Christians treat with a lot less charity than the apostles meant to express.

So, how to treat the good… and how to treat the sucky.

Don’t be surprised if they hate you. They hated Jesus too.

Matthew 10.24-25, Luke 6.40, John 13.16, 15.18-25.

Today’s passages get frequently taken out of context by Christian jerks. So let’s deal with them up front.

Jerks either deliberately try to offend, or don’t care that they do offend. And there are a lot of Christians, religious or not, who behave this way. They want people to be outraged. They want division and strife. They don’t care that these are works of the flesh; they’re not that fruitful anyway, and are way more interested in doctrinal purity than goodness and kindness and grace. So when people get angry, they perversely assume they’re doing something right. After all, didn’t Jesus say we’re blessed when people condemn and rage against us like the ancients did the prophets? Lk 6.22-23 Everybody hates you! Rejoice!

Of course they’re going about it the wrong way. If we have God’s mysteries and share them, yet we don’t do so in love (and no, tough love doesn’t count), we’re an annoying noise; we’re nothing, and gain nothing. 1Co 13.1-3 You might play the best music on your new 150-decibel sound system, but people are gonna hate it because it’s too loud, and it’s 2 a.m. In the same way, people don’t hate Christian jerks because they’re Christian, so much as because they’re jerks. So let’s not be. Let’s be kind.

Jesus’s statements here are not for jerks. But man alive are jerks quick to quote them. “Oh, oh! I’m being persecuted. Well, Jesus said it’s to be expected. They hated him; they’ll hate us.”

Yeah, but they hated Jesus for entirely different reasons. They hated Jesus because he called BS on ’em. Exposed their fake piety. Loved people they didn’t consider worth loving. Objected to their loopholes. And worst of all: There was supernatural evidence he was right, because you can’t just cure people on Sabbath unless God endorses such behavior. Their doctrine was undermined by YHWH himself… which is why they insisted Jesus’s cures couldn’t be God things, and had to somehow be devilish.

So when Jesus brought up persecution in his Olivet Discourse, he reminded them this shouldn’t catch them by surprise. The ancients persecuted the prophets; their contemporaries hassled Jesus himself. Stands to reason people were eventually gonna come after them too. Again, not because they’re being dicks about the gospel: Because God’s kingdom runs contrary to their comfortable status quo.

So since they went after Jesus, don’t think we’re exempt. He’s the teacher; he’s the master; we’re just his apostles and students and slaves. Like he says.

Matthew 10.24-25 KWL

24 “A student isn’t above the teacher, nor a slave above their master.

25 It’s fine for the student to become like their teacher, and the slave like their master.

But if people call the homeowner ‘Baal Zevúl,’

how much more those of his house?”

 

Luke 6.40 KWL

“A student isn’t above the teacher,

and everyone so repaired will be like their teacher.”

 

John 13.16 KWL

“Amen amen! I promise you a slave isn’t greater than their master,

nor an apostle greater than their sender.”

Out of context, this passage is also occasionally used by false teachers to make the claim they’ve studied Jesus so much, so extensively, they’re just as authoritative as he. Which everyone should instantly recognize as rubbish, but you’d be surprised how many Christians are total suckers for a winsome cult leader. Everybody co-works with Jesus, but nobody co-leads with him. He’s Messiah; he’s king; he’s above every other name. No matter how wise his followers might get… and the smart ones are wise enough to stay humble and not pull rank.

Lying so we can win the debate.

Christians lie.

No we’re not supposed to. There’s a whole teaching about this. It’s actually not the “don’t bear false witness” command, Ex 20.16 which has to do with perjury. It’s the one about how Christians need to be rid of lying, and tell the truth to one another. Ep 4.25 But we lie just the same. Usually to get out of trouble. Sometimes to defraud.

And sometimes when we debate with antichrists, and wanna score points, we borrow a rather common tactic we see in politics: We ignore whether our “facts” are all that factual.

Oh, we wish they were factual, ’cause they really help our case. We’ll psyche ourselves into believing they’re factual. We’re willing to dismiss any evidence which says it’s false knowledge. We’re totally willing to perpetuate fraud.

Yeah, it’s fraud. There’s a command against that too. Mk 10.19

But Christians dismiss this particular sin, ’cause we figure it’s so important to win these arguments, score victories for Jesus… and really stick it to those skeptics. Ends justify means. Doesn’t matter that we’re we’re not 100 percent sure about the “facts” we point to, or straight-up that we’re wrong and lying and fraudulent and evil. The goal was to win.

Yeah, this rationale doesn’t fly with God. He’s light, and doesn’t do darkness. 1Jn 1.5 If we adopt darkness, and claim we’re doing it on God’s behalf, we’re really not; it’s done for our victories, not his. We stopped following him. 1Jn 1.6

Whenever we sway non-Christians with non-facts, we’ve not really led them to Jesus. We’ve led them to Christianism. It’s built on lies, remember?—and God’s kingdom is built on truth. We’ve led them into some dark variant of Christianity we’ve invented instead, which we like better—and hopefully God will be merciful to these poor souls and pull them out of our darkness. But there’s no guarantee that’ll happen; ask any cult member.

False knowledge, and how it’s confused with faith.

There are plenty of people who “just know” things.

And man alive, are they frustrating. Y’see, they can’t tell you why they know what they do. They don’t know where they got their knowledge, nor what it’s based on. Not that it matters where they got it: They believe it. You can’t tell them any different.

But they’re wrong. It’s false knowledge.

I’ll tell people something they’ve not heard before, and they’ll respond—whether in Sunday school, my classrooms, or the workplace—

THEY. “Why, what you’re saying can’t be true, for I know different.”

ME. [patiently] “Well your knowledge is wrong. Relax; we’re all wrong sometimes.”

THEY. “Nope; can’t be. I know this.”

ME. “Okay, maybe I’m wrong. So prove your case. Show me why you’re right.”

THEY. “Don’t need to. I know I’m right.”

Every once in a while they’ll really try to prove their case. Turns out there’s a thousand holes in their reasoning. Easy to see, easy to chip away at. But they can’t see the holes. And don’t really care there are holes; it doesn’t matter if they prove their point; they know they’re right.

It’s not that they actually believe what they do for logical reasons. Humans aren’t logical. We believe what we do because we find it convenient to believe it. Helps when it’s actually true. But even when it’s not, people will push aside all evidence to the contrary, grasp at any evidence they can find in their favor, and believe what they please anyway.

Certain Christian apologists call this behavior “postmodernism.” It’s not. (If anything, postmoderns are frequently the ones demanding, “Prove it.”) Not that postmoderns aren’t just as guilty of this behavior: Everybody does it. Moderns, postmoderns, everyone. It’s not a worldview thing, not a cultural thing, not a political thing, not even a sin thing. It’s a human thing. We’re comfortable with our beliefs, and don’t wanna change ’em, even if there’s plenty of evidence to the contrary. Change is too inconvenient.

I had to be trained to not think this way. First journalism school, then seminary: We were taught to question everything. Everything. My first journalism professor was fond of saying, “If your mother tells you she loves you, check it out!” Which sounds ridiculous at first… but you do realize there are a lot of dysfunctional mothers out there, who have very distorted definitions of love. Turns out she might not love you; whatever she’s feeling is neither khecéd nor fílos and agápi. Shouldn’t have presumed; now you see why your relationship is so f----d up.

There are naturally skeptical people who automatically question everything. Or so it appears; there are certain beliefs they take for granted, and you’ll find ’em once you drill down far enough. They might be nihilistic about a lot of things, but at their core they’re pretty sure they’re right about a number of things. Cogito ergo sum, at least.

But more often people are comfortable with the knowledge they believe they have, and are willing to trust it. Their minds are made up. Doesn’t matter which way the evidence points: There’s no higher authority than their minds.

It’s why people refuse to believe in climate change, or in an ancient earth, or insist humans are inherently good (regardless of our obvious depravity). Conversely it’s also why people believe in connect-the-dots theories and conspiracies. And it doesn’t matter how much evidence we have of a screw loose in their reasoning: They’re right. They know so. Can’t tell ’em otherwise.

In 2005 Stephen Colbert famously identified this as truthiness—that people believe what they do because they feel it’s true, rather than know it’s true. (And to a large degree it’s also because they feel it’s true; these “facts” are possessions or creations of theirs, so there’s a lot of selfishness bundled with ’em.)

True, false knowledge has a lot of similarities to truthiness. But unlike truthiness, it’s usually borne from apathy. People believe as they do because change and repentance take more effort than they care to spend.

It’s like fact-checking a headstone. My grandfather’s headstone actually has his first and middle names reversed. But nobody bothered to spend the money to fix it. And nobody’s gonna. Cemetery records, and eventually genealogies, are gonna have his names flipped for ages to come, all because nobody cares enough to fix the error. False knowledge has just this kind of effect on real knowledge… and often a much bigger impact.

So yeah: Truthiness has a lot of feelings involved in its practice and propagation. False knowledge has no such feelings. Gets propagated all the same.

Postmodernism: Don’t take “truths” for granted.

POSTMODERN poʊs(t)'mɑd.ərn adjective. Coming later than modern.

2. A 20th century concept and style in arts and criticism, representing a departure from modernism, typified by a general distrust of grand theories and ideologies.

3. Anti-modern.

[Pomo 'poʊ.moʊ abbreviation, postmodernism poʊs(t)'mɑd.ərn.iz.əm noun, postmodernist poʊs(t)'mɑd.ərn.ist adjective, postmodernity poʊs(t).moʊd'ər.nə.di noun.]

I grew up postmodern. I just didn’t know it had a name. I also didn’t realize, at the time, how badly it scared the heebie-jeebies out of Christian apologists.

The label’s not new. It first cropped up in the 1950s. Artists and architects started using it to describe the hip, exciting things they were doing. The current scene was “modern,” so they claimed they were beyond modern, post modern; whatever modern was, they weren’t. Pomo is a common abbreviation, although some pomos really hate it. I don’t, and use it.

Gradually people began to claim postmodernism is more than just their artistic style; it’s their worldview, the way they interpret the world around them, particularly the society we live in. Like the artists, they didn’t begin with any precise definition: Other people were modern, but they were beyond that.

But postmodern grew to become defined as “very, very skeptical of modern.”

If you’ve not heard this definition before, I don’t blame you. When I first heard of the term “postmodernism” in seminary, I heard it defined by Christian apologists, and they defined it as “rejects reality, in favor of their own invented reality.” Which is hardly a new philosophy; everybody does that. Little kids do it. “No! I don’t believe you! It’s not true!” [covers ears with hands] “La la la I can’t hear you.” And no doubt you’ve noticed lots of people in politics do it too. Always have.

But believing in your own fictions instead of the real world, isn’t postmodernism. You want a definition of it, you have to set aside your own knee-jerk prejudices and ask a postmodern. Or read some of their books. I was trained in journalism long before I was trained in theology, so I tracked down and read a bunch of original sources… and realized that’s me. That’s totally me. I’m postmodern. Surprise.

Postmodernism is in many ways a backlash to the philosophy of modernism… which is the way people have been looking at the world since the French Enlightenment in the 1700s. It’s this presumption humanity’s destiny is to achieve greatness by mastering (or conquering) our environment through the use of reason, logic, math, and science. With effort we can learn the universal truths behind everything, harness the great natural forces, and solve every problem. We can figure out the best way for everyone to live, and achieve peace and harmony and prosperity. (You know, like Star Trek. Which was, of course, created and written in the 1960s by moderns.)

Whereas we postmoderns are entirely sure that’s just a pipe dream.

Stay on the lookout for the second coming.

1 Thessalonians 5.6-11.

In the original text of 1 Thessalonians it was all one continuous stream. No punctuation, no sentences, no paragraphs. We had to figure these things out by their context. The sentences are easy enough to figure out, but naturally Christians are gonna disagree on the rest. Hence different Greek New Testaments disagree on where the paragraph breaks should go… and since I’ve been writing about this book a paragraph at a time, y’might notice I’m not precisely following any one GNT.

• Textus Receptus and United Bible Societies’ edition: One big paragraph from 1-11.
• Nestle-Aland: One big paragraph, but they capitalize the first word in the sentences which they think might be the start of a new subject, and therefore are debatably new paragraphs.
• Tyndale House: Four paragraphs. 1-3, 4-5, 6-10, and 11 by itself.
• The Jehovah’s Witnesses’ Emphatic Diaglott has 1-4, and 5 all the way to the end of the chapter. But I don’t think its focus was on proper paragraph breaks. (Or on accuracy of translation either, but that’s another discussion.)

Anywho, today’s passage continues along the same theme as the previous: Be prepared for the second coming. ’Cause ye know not what hour your Lord doth come. Mt 24.44 KJV Anytime now.

1 Thessalonians 5.6-11 KWL

6 So then we shouldn’t be asleep like the others,

Instead we should be awake, and we should be sober:

7 Sleepers sleep at night, and drinkers get drunk at night.

8 We, being in the day, should be sober,

wearing a chestplate of faith and love, and a helmet of salvation hope,

9 so God doesn’t assign us to wrath, but get us saved

through our Master, Christ Jesus, 10 who died for us

so that whether we’re awake or sleeping, we might live together with him.

11 So help one another and build one another

into the one body—just like you’re doing.

The pagans of this world will do their thing. Pagans gonna pagan. They’ll ignore what Jesus is doing; they’ll get stoned and wasted, or distract themselves some other way. But we’re meant to be holy. We don’t do like they do. We aren’t to let the world pass us by. We’re to engage with it, be active in it, point others towards God’s kingdom—and practice a little self-control for once. Love our neighbors. Don’t be dicks.

Because supposedly, we’re living lives which follow the Holy Spirit. We’re choosing to love and trust God. We’re altering our mindsets to embrace the idea God wants to save us, not destroy us; wants to reform the wicked, not be forced to smite them. For it’s true. God loves humanity.

And whether we actively live godly lives, or suck as hard as dark Christians who only flinch at everything with fear and rage, God loves us, and intends to live forever with us. Let’s get ready for that—so it’s not so drastic of a culture shock when Jesus returns.

Does God listen to pagans when they pray?

I’ll answer the question in the title right away: Yes. God listens to pagans when they pray.

And, well, duh. Of course he listens to them! He listens to everyone. He knows what everyone’s saying, what everyone’s thinking, and whether what we’re saying and what we’re thinking line up. (And when they aren’t, he knows we’re being hypocrites.)

He knows what our needs are; he hears us express ’em to him; he knows whether we’re sincere. True of everybody. Not just Christians.

Why’s this even a question? Because of course there are Christians who claim he doesn’t. Only we get access to the Almighty; only true believers.

(And maybe Jews… depending on whether they like Jews. If they like Jews, they always manage to find an exception to the “no pagans” rule; they’re God’s chosen people so he has to listen to them, doesn’t he? And if they’re antisemites, either Jews are simply another type of pagan he dismisses; or God’s rejected the Jews ’cause of the sins antisemites claim are unique to Jews, so he can’t abide them. Nope, these views aren’t based on reasoned-out theology. They’re always, always based on personal biases. Notice how often antisemites also figure God won’t listen to Roman Catholics, Muslims, or anybody they hate.)

Okay. Where do the Christians who claim God ignores pagans and sinners, get their ideas? Well, bible.

Isaiah 1.15 KJV

And when ye spread forth your hands, I will hide mine eyes from you: yea, when ye make many prayers, I will not hear: your hands are full of blood.

 

Micah 3.4 KJV

Then shall they cry unto the LORD, but he will not hear them: he will even hide his face from them at that time, as they have behaved themselves ill in their doings.

Okay. When you read these verses in proper context, both Isaiah and Micah were referring to people who should already be in conversation with God, but for whatever reason—they don’t believe in him, they don’t care to follow his commands, hot pagan sex—they’ve chosen sin. And when they suffer the consequences of those sins, God’s gonna let ’em. He warned them; he just had his prophets warn them; they’re not listening, so when they ultimately need his help, he won’t be listening.

No, it doesn’t sound very gracious of God, which is why a number of Christians who like to preach grace, like to skip these verses altogether. Or pretend they don’t exist; or pretend they can’t possibly mean what they mean; or straight-up say the prophets were wrong. I don’t care to go there: I believe the prophets are accurately relaying what God told ’em. God has infinite grace, and offers us infinite chances. But he also sets deadlines, and if we resist his grace all the way up to the deadline and beyond, he’s gotta follow through with his entirely fair judgments. And when they beg him to not follow through… what’s he gonna do, cave in like the parents of a spoiled child, and let people go right back to doing evil? Nope. He’s gotta ignore their shrieks of indignation, and stop the evil.

That’s what the verses mean when they state God sometimes won’t hear people.

The rest of the time, of course he will.

Psalm 145.18-19 KWL

18 The LORD is nigh unto all them that call upon him, to all that call upon him in truth. 19 He will fulfil the desire of them that fear him: he also will hear their cry, and will save them.

 

Romans 10.12-13 KWL

12 For there is no difference between the Jew and the Greek: for the same Lord over all is rich unto all that call upon him. 13 For whosoever shall call upon the name of the Lord shall be saved. Jl 2.32

If God didn’t heed the prayers of pagans, it’d be impossible for pagans to call upon him to save them! Even the most hardcore cases of people who claim “God doesn’t hear pagans” have to admit this is so. And they do. It’s just they claim every other prayer these pagans make, every other thing they request, God ignores… ’cause he’s waiting for the sinner’s prayer, and only after he hears that will he move his hand.

But nope, God hears pagans when they pray. Even if their prayers are weird, ridiculous, warped, selfish, or evil. Same as our prayers, when we get weird, ridiculous, warped, selfish, and evil. God hears everyone.

Hearing versus answering.

Part of the problematic idea God doesn’t hear pagans, is the problematic way we talk about prayer. Too many Christians don’t describe it as talking with God, which is all it really is. They try to make it sound more Christian. Throw a lot of Christianese lingo on it. Make it sound extra-holy and sacred. Shout, and pray in tongues, and use a lot of bible quotes and metaphors and poetry, because we somehow got the idea it’s okay to get weird when we’re addressing God. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t care for our melodrama; all he wants to do is talk. Maybe help out a bit.

So when Christians talk about God hearing our prayers, sometimes we don’t just mean to perceive the sounds we’re making as we talk to him about stuff. Usually we mean God answering our prayers—fulfilling our requests especially.

Hence when certain Christians claim, “God doesn’t listen to pagans,” what they more accurately mean is God doesn’t answer pagans’ prayers.

Which is an idea that’s also easily debunked.

Acts 10.1-4 KJV

1 There was a certain man in Caesarea called Cornelius, a centurion of the band called the Italian band, 2 a devout man, and one that feared God with all his house, which gave much alms to the people, and prayed to God alway. 3 He saw in a vision evidently about the ninth hour of the day an angel of God coming in to him, and saying unto him, Cornelius. 4 And when he looked on him, he was afraid, and said, What is it, Lord? And he said unto him, Thy prayers and thine alms are come up for a memorial before God.

Yeah, people will argue Cornelius wasn’t pagan, ’cause he was a devout worshiper of God. But he was. He didn’t worship the Greco-Roman gods, but the LORD, which is most definitely a step in the right direction. But he wasn’t a convert to Pharisaism; Jews still called him uncircumcised, Ac 11.3 which was one of their requirements for conversion. He’d follow the LORD only to a point, and otherwise do what he felt was best—which is exactly what makes any “Christian” actually pagan.

But God is gracious, and sent Cornelius an angel to set him straight by having him get and listen to Simon Peter. And as the angel pointed out, God was not unfamiliar with Cornelius’s prayers. True, some naysayers point out the angel didn’t say “God’s been hearing your prayers,” but αἱ προσευχαί σου… ἀνέβησαν εἰς μνημόσυνον ἔμπροσθεν τοῦ θεοῦ/e prosevhé su… anévisan eis nimósynon émprosthen tu Theú, “Your prayers… go up to a memorial before God.” As if he’s noticed them, but not heard them. It’s ridiculous nitpicking, and creates an equally ridiculous scenario where God’s telling himself, “Y’know, because he’s pagan, I’m not gonna listen to him. But since he seems so earnest, I’ll send an angel his way.” It makes God sound petty; really it’s the fact the interpreters are petty, and projecting their bad attitudes upon God.

God rewards those who earnestly seek him, He 11.6 Christian or pagan. If they’re making an effort, same as any Christian who makes an effort, God meets ’em where they are, and tries to bring them along even further. He’s trying to save them too. Jesus died for their sins same as ours, 1Jn 2.2 and there’s nothing but their own resistance getting in God’s way. So if they’re making any small, pathetic efforts in his direction, of course he’s gonna try to encourage more of that. He’s gracious, not petty.

So yes, he hears pagan prayers. And yes, he even answers pagan prayers. Not just the sinner’s prayer; if a pagan asks to be cured of some illness, God’s definitely been known to cure pagans. Many a Christian chaplain can tell you of pagans who’ve asked them to pray for stuff, and many chaplains can tell you God’s granted stuff—and no, that’s not because God listens to the chaplain and not the pagan.

It’s because, as usual, sometimes our will syncs up with God’s, so he grants those requests. And of course sometimes it doesn’t sync at all, and even Christians get such requests refused.

James 4.3 KJV

Ye ask, and receive not, because ye ask amiss, that ye may consume it upon your lusts.

When pagans make selfless requests of God, same as we Christians should be making selfless requests of God, it stands to reason God is likely to respond positively to them. Hence sometimes pagans get what they ask for, and Christians don’t. God knows best.

And yeah, some of those pagan prayers definitely won’t work for us. Like when they’re throwing wishes out into the universe, hoping some cosmic law of attraction will give them what they want. We wouldn’t care to honor such poorly-expressed “prayers”; we’d want to straighten the pagans out first, and explain there’s a lot more humility involved. But y’know, when the LORD answers such requests anyway, we’ve got to remember he knows what he’s doing. He’s trying to bring them along, gently and kindly; certainly more kindly than we can be. No, pagans don’t rightly understand how God works. But isn’t this just as true of so many of us Christians?

So if pagans wanna pray, let’s encourage the practice. Let’s point them to way better prayer resources than the usual mumbo-jumbo they find in the spirituality section of the bookstores. Let’s encourage them to talk with God, and try to hear him, and confirm it really is him before acting upon what we think we’ve heard him say.

And don’t be surprised when God uses their newly-evolving prayer life to point ’em to Jesus.

Do we really get whatever we ask in Jesus’s name?

While the idea of “God’ll give us whatever we ask in Jesus’s name” has been largely misunderstood, misinterpreted, and abused, by Christians who wanna depict God as if he’s a magic genie who grants way more than three wishes—or like Santa Claus, who will only give you presents if you’re good, so be good for goodness’ sake—the reality is Jesus does hear prayer requests. And isn’t just willing, but eager, to answer the good requests.

John 16.23-24 KJV

23 And in that day ye shall ask me nothing. Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you. 24 Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name: ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.

Here’s the context of this scripture; it’s important, y’know. At the time Jesus was speaking with his students about leaving them; about returning to his Father. Once he’d done so, they’d be miserable. But once he comes back in victory, having conquered sin and death, they’ll be overjoyed. They’ll be so thrilled to see him, his mere presence would be enough for them; they couldn’t ask for anything more. But, Jesus says, this is the perfect time to ask for anything more.

See, Jesus didn’t return to them in the same condition as when he left. Certainly not; all crucified and gory and mangled. He’s resurrected. He’s a harbinger of the age to come, with God’s kingdom in clear, plain sight, and the power to bring it into our reality. When he returned to them it wasn’t just time to bask in the joy of the Lord, but to get started bringing God’s kingdom to earth.

Just as true for us Christians today. We’re gonna need God’s help to bring about his kingdom. We need to ask him for things!

“In Jesus name”—and why it doesn’t always work.

Jesus told us, more than once, we can use his name whenever we ask the Father for things.

John 14.12-15 KJV

12 Verily, verily, I say unto you, He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also; and greater works than these shall he do; because I go unto my Father. 13 And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. 14 If ye shall ask any thing in my name, I will do it.

 

John 15.16 KJV

Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you, and ordained you, that ye should go and bring forth fruit, and that your fruit should remain: that whatsoever ye shall ask of the Father in my name, he may give it you.

 

John 16.23-24 KJV

23 And in that day ye shall ask me nothing. Verily, verily, I say unto you, Whatsoever ye shall ask the Father in my name, he will give it you. 24 Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name: ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.

Usually Christians are fully aware of this fact. Which is why whenever we want our requests fulfilled, we do ask for stuff in Jesus’s name.

Well, more accurately we ask “in Jesus name.” No possessive. (It’s not like most people know how to use apostrophes properly anyway.) It’s kinda the traditional, rote, thoughtless way we’ve grown accustomed to praying: Before we say amen, we throw a “In Jesus name” in there just to make extra sure we get what we want. It’s not a reminder of who we follow and who’s our Lord; it’s an incantation. It’s what we say to unlock the power. It’s magic.

Yeah, no.

’Cause we have that one bible story where people try to use “in Jesus name” as the magic words, and fail miserably. You might’ve heard it.

Acts 19.13-17 KJV

13 Then certain of the vagabond Jews, exorcists, took upon them to call over them which had evil spirits the name of the Lord Jesus, saying, We adjure you by Jesus whom Paul preacheth. 14 And there were seven sons of one Sceva, a Jew, and chief of the priests, which did so. 15 And the evil spirit answered and said, Jesus I know, and Paul I know; but who are ye? 16 And the man in whom the evil spirit was leaped on them, and overcame them, and prevailed against them, so that they fled out of that house naked and wounded. 17 And this was known to all the Jews and Greeks also dwelling at Ephesus; and fear fell on them all, and the name of the Lord Jesus was magnified.

Many Christians claim Jesus’s name unlocks every door. Here it didn’t.

Usually it’s presumed it’s because Sceva’s boys weren’t Christian. Didn’t personally know Jesus; they were just using his name because they knew Christians use it, and heard it gets results. But no; Luke stated these kids were Jews, and their dad was a priest, which meant they were Levites; they’d be likewise trained as priests. Any priestly training, whether instructed by Sadducees or Pharisees, would’ve taught them the Law—so they knew you don’t call upon any other name but God’s.

Exodus 23.13 KJV

And in all things that I have said unto you be circumspect: and make no mention of the name of other gods, neither let it be heard out of thy mouth.

Jews didn’t do exorcisms in any other name but God’s. Still true: We Christians recognize Jesus is God, so that’s not an issue. So Sceva’s sons would’ve have known better than to invoke Jesus—unless they were Christian. Or thought themselves Christian. Where they got their Christianity we don’t know; as “vagabond Jews” they traveled from city to city, and picked up Jesus along the way.

But they didn’t know him as well as the thought they did. Certainly the evil spirit they tried to fight, didn’t detect anything of Jesus about them, which is why it could beat the clothes off them.

Sceva’s kids didn’t get what they sought “in Jesus name,” because the name is not a password, a spell, a magic word; it’s not just a name we drop because we wanna appear important. When we ask for something in another person’s name, like when Jesus’s students borrowed a donkey—

Mark 11.2-6 KJV

2 And [Jesus] saith unto them, Go your way into the village over against you: and as soon as ye be entered into it, ye shall find a colt tied, whereon never man sat; loose him, and bring him. 3 And if any man say unto you, Why do ye this? say ye that the Lord hath need of him; and straightway he will send him hither. 4 And they went their way, and found the colt tied by the door without in a place where two ways met; and they loose him. 5 And certain of them that stood there said unto them, What do ye, loosing the colt? 6 And they said unto them even as Jesus had commanded: and they let them go.

—we’re properly asking for something they want, not something we want. If we only ask for something we want, yet never take the other person’s wishes into consideration—“I’d like a kilo of your finest cocaine, and here’s a blank check from my dad”—should we be surprised at all if that other person stops payment on the check?

The reason Jesus is cool with us using his name, is because we’re supposedly following him. We do as he teaches, try to develop his character, and want what he does. We abide in him, as he does in us. If this is the case, feel free to invoke Jesus’s name every time you pray.

And if it’s not, and our assumptions about what Jesus wants are based on projecting our own bad attitudes or desires upon him, I really don’t expect him to fulfill our requests. He might anyway—but it won’t have anything to do with us; we just happened to ask for something he wants to do for his own reasons, regardless of our reasons.

When Jesus catches us by surprise.

1 Thessalonians 5.1-5.

Since Paul, Silas, and Timothy just finished writing about the rapture at Jesus’s second coming in the previous paragraph, Christians read today’s paragraph (or paragraphs; the Tyndale House Greek New Testament is pretty sure this is two) as if they’re still talking about it. And they kinda are. Because the apostles didn’t know when Jesus is returning—none of us do!—and for all they knew, the next big disaster might end with the second coming. Which might still be true. You don’t know. Neither do I. All we know is Jesus can return at any time.

Which the Thessalonians shoulda learned fairly quickly after they first followed Jesus. The apostles even write they’ve known it perfectly well. 1Th 5.2 When he returns, it won’t be predictable—no matter how often “prophecy scholars” try to predict it. It won’t be at a time we expect—no matter how often “prophecy scholars” say we should definitely expect it. It comes like a thief at night, and as Jesus said, if you know when a thief is coming, you wait up and catch him. Mt 24.43 You won’t catch Jesus. He catches us.

But, like a thief in the daytime, when he catches us by surprise, we can rally quickly.

1 Thessalonians 5.1-5 KWL

1 About times and moments, fellow Christians,

you’ve no need for us to write you:

2 You’ve known perfectly well the Lord’s Day comes like a thief at night—

3 when people might say, “Safe and secure,” and suddenly ruin comes upon them,

like contractions upon someone with a baby in the womb,

and they might not flee in time.

4 You, fellow Christians, aren’t in the dark,

so the day to you is like when a thief reaches in:

5 All of you are “children of light” and “children of daytime.”

Don’t be night, nor dark.

Now yes, we Christians have been waiting for the past 20 centuries for Jesus to return, ever since the angels first told his gawking students he was returning. Ac 1.10-11 He’s got his reasons for taking so long, but the students back then expected he’d return in their lifetimes. (And he did—but for them individually, when they died.) Christians have been waiting for him ever since.

Despite Jesus saying even he doesn’t know when he’ll return, Mk 13.32 and that the timing is none of our business anyway, Ac 1.7 many a Christian has definitely become fixated on when it’ll be. Some prophecy scholars, whom we call date-setters, have even picked specific dates and times: Jesus will return next Monday, or in two months, or on the eve of the next election, or whenever. They’re so fixated on their obsession, they’ve abandoned bible, as well as sense.

Even so, it’s not wrong to wonder when Jesus is coming back. The Thessalonians were. They were under persecution, and wanted to see some light at the end of the tunnel. So… could he come back this week? The next? Next month? Next year?

For that matter, how prepared ought we be for his return? Should I sell my house? Quit my job? Cash in my 401(k) and give it to the needy? Ditch any future travel plans? Move to the desert, wear nothing but white robes, and wait atop a mesa? Or should I just give up hope he’s ever returning in my lifetime. What’s the deal?

There’s a rapture, and it’s no secret.

From the first chapter of Left Behind, the 1995 End Times novel by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins.

“People are missing,” she managed in a whisper, burying her head in his chest.

He took her shoulders and tried to push her back, but she fought to stay close. “What do you m—?”

She was sobbing now, her body out of control. “A whole bunch of people, just gone!”

“Hattie, this is a big plane. They’ve wandered to the lavs or—”

She pulled his head down so she could speak directly into his ear. Despite her weeping, she was plainly fighting to make herself understood. “I’ve been everywhere. I’m telling you, dozens of people are missing.”

“Hattie, it’s still dark. We’ll find—”

“I’m not crazy! See for yourself! All over the plane, people have disappeared.”

“It’s a joke. They’re hiding, trying to—”

“Ray! Their shoes, their socks, their clothes, everything was left behind. These people are gone!”

They’ve already made two silly movies based on this book. Both depict this chapter: In the middle of a cross-country flight, where it’d be impossible for 100 people to simply disappear, they do. With no warning. No fanfare. No nothing. One moment they’re in their seats; the next they’re gone, with clothes, jewelry, pacemakers, and artificial knees left behind.

The same thing happens in various Christian-produced End Times movies as well. Though not always with the clothes and bric-a-brac left where they last stood. It’s pretty much only LaHaye and Jenkins who had the idea everybody was gonna appear in heaven butt naked.

(But the idea of leaving behind all the inorganic material? I’m not sure they entirely thought out how far this oughta go. If they left behind pins and stents, why not tattoo ink? The meds they last took? The alcohol they last drank? The food additives in their stomachs? The urine in their bladders?)

Well, a mysterious unexplained vanishing is certainly dramatic. But it’s not consistent with the scriptures. At all. Do I have to repeat this? Fine: At all.

Remember when Jesus got raptured?

Acts 1.9-11 KJV

9 And when [Jesus] had spoken these things, while they beheld, he was taken up; and a cloud received him out of their sight. 10 And while they looked stedfastly toward heaven as he went up, behold, two men stood by them in white apparel; 11 which also said, Ye men of Galilee, why stand ye gazing up into heaven? this same Jesus, which is taken up from you into heaven, shall so come in like manner as ye have seen him go into heaven.

Our rapture is gonna resemble Jesus’s rapture. And he didn’t get naked on the way up.

Nor was it invisible; they watched him go. Nor all that secret; he told ’em he was gonna go.

But y’know, the secret rapture idea is far more dramatic. And frightening. Deliberately meant to be frightening.

Imagine you’re a little kid who grew up hearing these scenarios of a secret rapture, and you firmly believe that’s what happens next: All the Christians disappear, followed by a worldwide tribulation. So one day you’re at home, and you notice you’re all alone. Nobody’s around when you thought they’d be. And for just a moment—in brief but great terror—you wonder whether Jesus raptured the rest of the family… but not you. He left you behind.

More times than I can count, I’ve heard Christians share this very story. They panicked and thought, Did the rapture happen without me? Oh CRAP!

“Don’t you be left behind,” preachers warn ’em ominously. But is this actually how the rapture’s gonna work? Surprise, Jesus took away everybody you love, and it’s the great tribulation for you?

No.