Too stressed to pray.

Since I was asked to write about being too stressed to pray, I’m gonna… but I admit my advice may be inadequate, because I don’t personally suffer from this problem. Whenever I’m stressed, my knee-jerk reaction is to pray.

Not hit things, not flee, definitely not drink or get stoned—pray. Whenever they’re in a jam, plenty of people immediately call out to God; even atheists will do this, even though they absolutely don’t wanna, even though they’re pretty sure nobody’s listening, because they were raised to do this. When I was growing up, the people around me were predominately Christian; when they were in a jam, they prayed. I mimicked them; I prayed too. And still do.

And I’m aware not everybody was raised Christian like me, so they didn’t develop this knee-jerk reaction. When they get stressed out, their first response is to do the other things I just listed. Punch the wall—but ideally some other, healthier form of physical expression, like going for a run; like going to the gym and hitting the heavy bag. I got a lot of alcoholics in the family, and I know they immediately turn to drink. I have coworkers who are stoned most of the time, and marijuana is how they deal with stress too. I had a friend in college who handled her stress by having lots of sex with her boyfriend. If you grew up with unhealthy methods of stress relief, stands to reason you’d turn to them in a crisis.

But once you become Christian, you gotta unlearn the unhealthy methods, and learn to turn to God.

So my recommendation? Practice turning to God whenever you’re dealing with small stressors. When little things bug you, remind yourself to pray. Pray like that regularly enough, and when the bigger things wallop you, prayer won’t be the last thing on your mind. It may not be the first—you’re working on it—but your reaction certainly won’t be, “Prayer? Who has the time? I’m dealing with a crisis here.”

(Oh, and go to the gym too. That actually works a lot better than you’d think.)

“Servants, be subject to your masters.”

1 Peter 2.18-25.

So here’s a passage which has been regularly misinterpreted and abused by people who want employees, subordinates, “servants,” and slaves to unquestioningly obey their masters. Whenever they wanted a proof text that’d get people to shut up and permit their own exploitation, they’d quote 1 Peter, and claim Simon Peter endorses their despotism. After all, the word the KJV translates “master” in verse 18 is literally δεσπόταις/despótes… so apparently Peter was fully aware these people were living under tyrants, and it was okay with him.

It wasn’t, and I’ll explain. First, the passage.

1 Peter 2.18-25 KWL

18Those of a household submitting

in all fear, to the boss—

not only to the good and reasonable bosses,

but also the crooked ones—

19this receives grace,

if it’s because of an awareness of God

when someone who is wrongfully suffering

undergoes grief.

20For how is it glory

if sinners will undergo being beaten?

But if do-gooders will undergo suffering,

this receives grace from God.

21For this is why you² are called;

for Christ also suffers for you² all,

leaving you² an example

so you² might follow his steps—

22Christ who “doesn’t sin,

nor is deceit found in his mouth.” Is 53.9

23Christ who, being disrespected, doesn’t disrespect back;

suffering, doesn’t threaten back;

he yields to the Righteous Judge.

24Christ who “bears our sins himself,” Is 53.4

in his body, on the wooden cross,

so people, dying to our sins,

might live for righteousness.

“You’re² cured by his wounds.” Is 53.5

25You’re² “like straying sheep,” Is 53.6

but now you² return to the shepherd,

and the supervisor of your² souls.

We have to remember there’s a cultural context Simon Peter is dealing with. He didn’t write to the 21st-century United States; and if you’re not from the States he didn’t write to you either. His letter was for first-century eastern Romans. These people practiced a form of patriarchy—the paterfamilias, the head of the family, functioned like the king of the family, and largely had the power of life and death over everyone in it.

Obviously this includes slaves, but you might not be aware it also includes kids: Roman fathers could kill their children. Yes, this includes their adult children. Not for just any reason; he had to justify it to Roman society, but there were many reasons Romans would consider totally valid, such as defying or shaming one’s parents. Yep: Embarrass your dad, and he might have you whacked.

If you’ve ever seen movies and TV about Italian organized crime, like The Godfather or The Sopranos, there are a lot of similarities; these mobsters like to imagine themselves as modern-day Romans, and deliberately mimic Roman patriarchy. So, much like you can’t easily extract yourself from a mob entanglement, it was extremely hard to get out from under a Roman patriarch.

Jesus doesn’t teach like scribes.

Mark 1.21-22, Matthew 7.28-29. Luke 4.31-32.

As Jesus wrapped up his Sermon on the Mount, Matthew includes a comment about the way he taught his lessons, and the way his listeners reacted to it:

Matthew 7.28-29 KWL

28It happens when Jesus finishes these lessons,

the masses are amazed at his teaching:

29Jesus’s teaching isn’t like their scribes,

but like one who has authority.

It’s much the same way Mark and Luke described it when Jesus first began teaching in synagogue. Even walking-around rabbis like Jesus would teach in synagogue: They’d teach their kids on weekdays, and the general population on Sabbath—meaning Friday night after sundown. (Jewish days go from sundown to sundown, not midnight to midnight.)

Pharisee custom was for the synagogue president to let anyone anyone he recognized as a valid teacher, have the floor. Visiting rabbis and scribes, new guys, or young teachers spoke first. This wasn’t necessarily to honor them. If any of ’em turned out to be wrong, as sometimes they did, the last teacher—usually the synagogue’s senior scribe—would correct them, and get the last word. Synagogues were schools, Pharisees liked to debate, and sometimes they’d spend all night debating. Good thing it was Sabbath; in the morning everyone could sleep in.

Anyway, debates kept synagogue really interesting. But if the synagogue president (and later the Christian ἐπίσκοπος/epískopos, “supervisor”) couldn’t keep order, or when people lack the Spirit’s fruit, it could also become chaos. As you know, some people just don’t know how to be civil. They deliberately pick fights, or make personal attacks. Some will nitpick stupid things, defend loopholes, and spread misinformation. The evening could become an unprofitable waste. Happened among the early Christians too. Tt 3.9-11 Which is discouraging.

Into the belly of this beast, Jesus went to teach about God’s kingdom. Mark says this happened after he collected his first students from their boats; Luke puts this story before he collected ’em. Either way.

Mark 1.21-22 KWL

21Jesus and his students enter Capharnaum.

Next, on entering synagogue on Sabbath,

Jesus is teaching—

22and people are amazed at his teaching.

For in his teaching, Jesus acts like one who has authority,

and not like scribes.

Luke 4.31-32 KWL

31Jesus comes down to Capharnaum,

a city in the Galilee.

He’s teaching the citizens on Sabbath.

32 and they’re amazed at Jesus’s teaching—

because his word is given with authority.

The house on the rock.

Matthew 7.24-27, Luke 6.47-49.

Jesus concludes his Sermon on the Mount with his well-known analogy of building a house on bedrock, as opposed to building it on sand. Living by his teachings is building on bedrock. Ignoring his teachings is building on sand.

I live in California, where we see examples of this analogy played out on a yearly basis: Bad weather comes, and houses which were not built on anything solid either slide down hills, slide off cliffs, or slide into the ocean. Modern-day construction doesn’t bother to dig for bedrock; we build our own “bedrock,” namely steel-reinforced concrete foundations. Which is fine on a level plain which isn’t in danger of flooding, but people build houses everywhere, and don’t always plan for the worst.

Before Jesus became a rabbi he was a builder. Mk 6.3 Or “carpenter,” if you wanna go with the traditional interpretation of τέκτων/tékton—which doesn’t account for the fact a tékton is a person who builds stuff. Could be out of wood, but téktoni could also work in stone or metal, and could build both small things and large—including houses. So when Jesus discusses house-building, he knew what he was talking about. Heck, as Creator, Jn 1.3 when he discusses creating anything, he knows what he’s talking about.

Matthew 7.24-27 KWL

24“So whoever hears these teachings of mine

and does them

will become like a wise man

who builds himself a house on bedrock.

25The rain comes down,

the current comes in,

the winds blow,

and slam into that house—

and it doesn’t fall down,

for it was grounded on bedrock.

26And whoever hears these teachings of mine

and doesn’t do them

will become like a stupid man

who builds himself a house on sand.

27The rain comes down,

the current comes in,

the winds blow,

and slam into that house—

and it falls,

and it’s a huge disaster.”

Luke 6.47-49 KWL

47“Everyone coming to me,

hearing my teachings, doing them—

I’ll show you² what it’s like.

48It’s like a person building a house,

who digs, digs deep,

and makes a foundation on bedrock.

The flood-tide coming, the river bursts upon that house,

and isn’t strong enough to shake it,

because it’s well-built.

49Hearers who don’t do as I teach:

It’s like a person building a house

directly on the ground, without a foundation.

The river bursts on it,

and next it collapses.

The destruction of that house becomes great.”

When Jesus says, “I don’t know you.”

Matthew 7.21-23, Luke 6.46, 13.23-27.

Christians, particularly Evangelicals, quote this next teaching of Jesus a lot. But we tend to do this because we wanna nullify it. It’s scary.

See, it implies there are people who wanna get into God’s kingdom, who honestly think they’re headed there… but when they stand before Jesus at the End, they get the rug pulled out from under them. Turns out they have no relationship with Jesus. Never did. He never knew them. Psyche!

It sounds like the dirtiest trick ever. How can a Christian go their whole life thinking they’re saved, only to find out no they’re not, and they’re not getting into the kingdom? And by process of elimination, they’re therefore going into the fire? Holy crap; shouldn’t this keep us awake nights?

So like I said, Christians figure the solution to this quandary is to nullify it. “Chill out, people: This story isn’t about you. ’Cause you’re good! You said the sinner’s prayer and believe all the right things. This story applies to the people who won’t say the sinner’s prayer, don’t believe all the right things, and don’t realize they’re heretics or in a cult. You’re good. Relax.”

Or you can instead take the Dispensationalist route: “Remember, people, God saves us by grace, not works. And notice what Jesus says in this story about “Law-breakers” Mt 7.23 and “unrighteous workers.” Lk 13.27 He’s clearly talking to the people of the last dispensation, back when God didn’t yet save anybody by grace, and they still had to earn salvation by following the Law. It was true in Jesus’s day, but isn’t anymore. So we can safely ignore these scriptures. They don’t count for our day. They’re null.”

Obviously I’m not going with either of these explanations. I’m no dispensationalist (and neither is Jesus); humans never did earn salvation by racking up good works. Nor by racking up correct beliefs. Humans are saved by grace, and always have been.

So why doesn’t grace appear to apply to these poor schmucks, who tried the narrow door only to find it bolted shut?

Luke 13.23-27 KWL

23Someone told Jesus, “Master, the saved are few.”

Jesus told them¹,

24“Strive to enter through the narrow door.

I tell you² many will seek to enter,

and not be able to.

25At some point the owner could be raised up,

and could close the door.

You² standing outside might begin to knock at the door,

saying, ‘Master, unbolt it for us!’

And in reply he tells you², ‘I don’t know you².

Where are you² from?’

26Then you’ll² begin to say, ‘We ate with you¹!

And drank! And you¹ taught us in the streets!’

27And the speaker will tell you², ‘I don’t know where you’re² from!

Get away from me, unrighteous workers.’ ”

What’d’you mean the Master won’t recognize us? Isn’t he omniscient? Didn’t he at least remember all the times we hung out together? We had a meal with him! (Or at least holy communion—hundreds, if not thousands of times!) We studied what he taught! Why’s Jesus suffering from amnesia or dementia all of a sudden?

Like I said, scary idea. Lots of us like to imagine our salvation is a done deal, a fixed thing, something we can never lose unless we actively reject it. This story throws a bunch of uncertainty into the idea, and we hate uncertainty. We wanna know our relationship with Jesus is solid and real, and gonna continue into Kingdom Come.

Watch out for fake and fleshly prophets.

Matthew 7.15-20, 12.33-35, Luke 6.43-45.

Right after Jesus’s teaching about the narrow gate, Jesus gives a warning about people who pretend be prophets, but aren’t.

By prophet we Christians mean someone who’s simply heard from God, and shares whatever he’s said. If God tells me he loves someone, and I tell that someone God loves ’em, that’s prophecy. It’s not complicated. Any Christian who listens to God can do it. It’s why he gave us the Holy Spirit—so “your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams: and on my servants and on my handmaidens I will pour out in those days of my Spirit; and they shall prophesy.” Ac 2.17-18 KJV Every Christian can prophesy, and oughta try.

But of course if there’s a real thing, and it’s valuable, there’s gonna be knock-offs and counterfeits. Hence there are such creatures as fake prophets. More than likely you’ve met some. They pretend to hear God—and they’ve learned some really good tricks to make it sound like they really did!—but they didn’t. For one of many reasons:

• Money, obviously. Churches might pay them to visit, and prophesy over people. Conferences might hire them as speakers. They could sell books and videos. Fans will send ’em money on a regular basis… instead of financially supporting their churches like they should.
• Control over others. They want people to listen to them and obey, because they supposedly speak for God. They want your pastor and church to obey them. They want the government to obey them. When they say jump, you don’t even ask “How high”—you just try to jump as high as you can.
• When sad people hear good news, it makes them so very happy. Well, prophets are in a great position to give sad people good news: Tell ’em what they want to hear! Tell ’em what they’re dying to hear. “You’re worried your atheist grandma went to hell when she died; well I’ve got some great news for you! She repented at the last second and I can see her in heaven right now, giving Jesus a big ol’ hug!” They’ll get so much love for saying such things. Feels great!
• People often presume prophets are extra-special Christians. God’s favorites. More gifted, more blessed, probably more devout. They wanna get revered like Roman Catholics revere their saints, so they try to make sure everybody’s aware they’re a prophet—i.e. automatic sainthood.
• And thanks to that automatic sainthood, fewer people are gonna notice—or believe it—when you sin. It’s a great cover for hypocrites.

There are plenty others. Hence there have always been fake prophets. And in his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus gives us a really handy way to quickly identify a fake prophet: Their character. Their behavior. If they’re legit, they’re gonna be following the Holy Spirit and producing his fruit. If they’re not, they won’t.

Matthew 7.15-20 KWL

15“Watch out for the fake prophets,

who come to you² dressed as sheep,

but underneath they’re greedy wolves.

16 You’ll² recognize them by their fruits.

People don’t pluck grapes from thornbushes,

nor figs from thistles, do they?

17So every good tree grows good fruits,

and a rotten tree grows bad fruits.

18A good tree doesn’t grow bad fruits,

nor a rotten tree grow good fruits.

19Every tree not growing good fruit

is cut down and thrown into fire.

20It’s precisely by their fruits

that you’ll² recognize them.”

When we follow the Spirit, usually his personality makes a serious impact on our personalities. We begin to act like him. More love, joy, peace, patience, and all the godly traits Paul listed in Galatians, Ga 5.22-23 plus other traits God has which we see mentioned in the New Testament. Like grace.

If you’re a fake prophet, y’might be able to fake the prophecies convincingly. Maybe even the fruit… temporarily. People who observe you up-close, long-term, will know whether you’re legitimately producing fruit or not. Which is why a lot of the fakes who aren’t, try to make sure people don’t observe ’em up-close, long-term. It’s why they prefer independent prophetic ministries, separate from any churches which might be able to catch ’em when they’re not performing. Why they travel, stay in town just for a weekend, and their riders insist on separate hotel accommodations—instead of staying with anyone from the church, and spending significant time with them. It’s why the stuff they preach sounds so iffy when you actually know your bible… and why the fruit they profess also sounds kinda fake.

The narrow gate. Or door. Either way, tricky to get in.

Matthew 7.13-14, Luke 13.23-24.

Most people are universalist, meaning in the end—if not at Judgment Day, at least way, way further down the road—God’s gonna relent, and let everybody into his kingdom.

Doesn’t matter how much they want nothing to do with God in this life. They might be full-on atheist. Might embrace another religion altogether. Might not even be good; they’re selfish, wicked, rebellious, downright evil. But universalists figure God loves everybody, so in the end he’ll just forgive all and let every last bloody one of ’em in. Even traitors, child molesters, genocidal mass murderers. They might have to spend a few thousand years in hell or purgatory first, but eventually they’ll get out and go to heaven. You get the kingdom, and you get the kingdom, and everybody gets the kingdom! (That last line works best if you can imagine it in Oprah Winfrey’s voice. But you don’t have to.)

The problem is Jesus said he’s not letting everybody in. He said this more than once. Today’s verses are two of the instances.

Matthew 7.13-14 KWL

13“Enter through the narrow gate.

The broad {gate}, the wide road, leads to destruction.

Many are entering destruction by it.

14The narrow gate, the tight road,

leads people to life.

Few are finding it.”

Luke 13.23-24 KWL

23Someone told Jesus, “Master, the saved are few.”

Jesus told them¹,

24“Strive to enter through the narrow door.

I tell you² many will seek to enter,

and not be able to.”

In a number of early copies of Matthew, Jesus only said, “The broad, wide road leads to destruction.” Possibly some copyist threw an extra πύλη/pýli, “gate,” in there before the fourth century; it kinda works, so most bibles go with it. As for Luke, it uses the word θύρας/thýras, “door” instead—but in the Textus Receptus Desiderus Erasmus swapped it for pýlis to make it match Matthew, which is why the KJV has “gate” in both places.

Jesus says there’s a broad gate and a narrow one. A wide road and a tight one. An easy way in, and a somewhat difficult way in. You wanna take the difficult way, ’cause it’s the right one.

Not because Jesus wants it difficult! Not because God doesn’t wanna save everyone. He does. 1Ti 2.4 But entering God’s kingdom means we gotta do it on God’s terms. People would much rather define the terms ourselves, or take a “shortcut” which turns out to be the wrong way entirely. Even when Jesus warns us away from alternate routes.

There’s an open invitation, an open door, and plenty of room. But people would much rather go to their destruction. Partly ’cause it looks like the path of least effort: They get to be absolutely self-centered and awful to everybody, and Pascal’s Wager—the worry there are eternal consequences to these actions—doesn’t sway them in the slightest. Partly ’cause goodness, grace, love, kindness, and generosity make them sick: They prefer karma and reciprocity, and they’re gonna hate how the kingdom lets in all these freeloaders.

Partly ’cause they think their path is smarter, more clever, more exclusive… as if they put one over on God, and found a loophole like the loopholes they find in their taxes. They forget God’s more clever than they. But that’s humanity for ya.