Why it really does matter…
We talked here about poor Peter, who tripped up on the fear of man and found himself doing stupid stuff. We’ve all been there. But here is the sobering part of the story:
After Peter pulled away from the Gentiles and separated himself by only eating with Jews, Galatians 2:13 says the “rest of the Jews” and even Barnabas were “carried away” by Peter’s behavior.
Everyone followed Peter in this! This is why this is so dangerous.
This is why we must change.
This is why it really does matter.
All that we do affects others. Whether you feel like it or not, you are a leader.
Passages like this scare me – I blog, I write, I teach a lot. And no matter how much we love Jesus and are used by Him to spread the gospel, we are all vulnerable to the fear of man and hypocrisy. And it’s worth nothing that this happened to Peter even after Pentecost. Even after the supernatural indwelling by the Holy Spirit. No matter how spirit-filled and powerfully anointed we are by God, we are all susceptible to the fear of man and hypocrisy. We have to be on guard.
The question for us is, Who am I possibly “leading astray” by actions?
See, everything that we do “preaches” something, right? Remember we are the only Bibles some people will read.
While we wouldn’t dream of going around and knocking on people’s doors and preaching a false gospel to them, would we walk around living a false gospel for them?
The pure and true gospel message can be tarnished and polluted by our false living just as much as by our false teaching. Just as Paul was opposing the Judaizers who were false teach-ers, he was opposing hypocrites who were false live-ers.
Our simple guiding question: What does this action “preach” about my God? Does it validate the gospel or invalidate? Does it add weight and credibility to Christ’s message, or does it erode the beautiful foundation Jesus laid?
How am I helping or hindering the precious souls God has put in my path?
CS Lewis said it like this:
It may be possible for each to think too much of his own potential glory hereafter; it is hardly possible for him to think too often or too deeply about that of his neighbor. The load, or weight, or burden of my neighbor’s glory should be laid daily on my back, a load so heavy that only humility can carry it, and the backs of the proud will be broken.
It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.
All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations. It is in the light of these overwhelming possibilities, it is with the awe and circumspection proper to them, that we should conduct all our dealings with one another, all friendships, all loves, all play, all politics. There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal. Nations, cultures, arts, civilization–these are mortal, and their life is to ours as the life of a gnat. But it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub, and exploit–immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.
This does not mean that we are to be perpetually solemn. We must play. But our merriment must be of that kind (and it is, in fact, the merriest kind) which exists between people who have, from the outset, taken each other seriously–no flippancy, no superiority, no presumption. And our charity must be real and costly love, with deep feeling for the sins in spite of which we love the sinner–no mere tolerance or indulgence which parodies love as flippancy parodies merriment. Next to the Blessed Sacrament itself, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses.
That’s why it really does matter. We’re helping everyone get somewhere. What does your life preach?
{Feeling the healthy weight of this with you … thanks for reading.}