1 Peter 3:18-22

The Lenten season marks an important time for the church universal as we, along with Christians all around the world, enter a time of intentional reflection, repentance, and preparation for Resurrection Sunday. For those of us serving in ministry, we do so with a deep burden for those we lead desiring that they might have a transforming encounter with the Divine. While we surely hope to walk this season alongside those we serve, there is a tension that often takes hold of us. We find ourselves Monday morning thinking about all the creative ways we will draw our congregation into the Lenten journey this year, but then it hits us. We look at our calendar and begin counting. “If Ash Wednesday is in two days, then that means Resurrection Sunday is only seven Sundays away! That means I need to get those invitation cards ready to send out to the neighborhood, schedule that special musical number, start preparing candidates for baptism…”. The list could go on for a while, but the point is this: for those of us that serve in ministry, while we should work to prepare experiences for those we serve, we cannot faithfully preach the good news of Scripture if we ourselves do not first have an encounter with the Divine. As you lead this season, make space for yourself to pray, fast, and reflect on the Lord.

The words of this letter are addressed to a community of Christians who had been dispersed to a region that corresponds to modern day Turkey (1:1). While it is debated exactly who these people are, the author seems to know that they are experiencing persecution from those living around them (2:12,3:16,4:4,4:14). For many of us, when we mention persecution, it can all too easy for our congregants to quickly read themselves into that story, firstly identifying and elevating their own experiences, whether real or perceived, as a baseline for understanding the text. The preaching pastor would do well to acknowledge the difference in context, while also empathizing with those in his/her congregation who feel a dissonance between their faith and surrounding culture. While this letter does serve to name these realities, in addition the author seeks to offer alternative practices amidst persecution. Words such as humble, gentle, reverent, and good are used to describe the behaviors of one who lives in the way of Christ.

Amidst the suffering, rather that calling the Christian community to correct the behavior of the surrounding culture, the author invites them to examine their own hearts and “sanctify Christ as Lord” (3:15). Perhaps a word our congregations need to hear is that the call of Scripture is often an invitation to self-examination and repentance. This theology is embedded in the Lenten journey. We are encouraged to name the things that have taken priority above Christ and seek to reorient our lives back towards Him. While some might interpret this posture as weakness, it is important to acknowledge this not as apathy towards those who would oppose the ways of Christ, but rather letting Christ be seen in these practices of humility, gentleness, etc. In doing so, Christ’s opposition will be revealed for what it truly is (3:16).

The author then turns to baptism. The act of being lowered beneath the waters, entering into something larger than us, and being brought back up, all in the presence of others who have entered these waters, invites us into a new way of life. The pastor should take a moment to acknowledge the importance of baptism in our worship and spiritual journey. This sacrament is first and foremost about what God does, not what we do. This truth is perhaps lost in much of our modern Evangelical traditions’ primacy of a personal decision. While as Wesleyans we acknowledge the responsibility we possess to engage in the life God has for us, we ought not forget that we can worship God only because God has first revealed God’s self to us. Simply put this life in Christ is a combined responsibility; not God or me, but us.

In the Lenten journey, we do not pick up our cross through prayer and fasting to coerce God into loving us more, or to prove something to others (Matt. 6:5). Instead, we do so from a place of acknowledgement that God has already begun a work in us, even if we do not see it. And much like baptism signifies the new way of life God envisions for this world—one where the dead things of this creation can be brought to life once again—fasting reveals that which was perhaps previously unseen. It can give us a new lens through which we might look upon the world. It can give us eyes to see our surroundings as God sees them. This journey, one in which we die to the old things, and anticipate the newness of God might act as an “appeal to God for a good conscience, through the resurrection of Jesus Christ…” (3:22)

As you begin this season with your congregation, invite them to the difficult posture of honest self-examination. Push them to name the things that have been given more attention than they deserve. And above all, model for them a boldness to walk this season with humility, trusting that God is both walking with you and waiting for you at the end.