‘An Impossible Miracle on Earth’

My Dear Shepherds,

I sat in the last row of a church we were visiting looking at the backs of a lot of grayhairs like me, wondering about the churches they’d come from, the stories they could tell of Jesus and his people, and the pastors who’d shepherded them across the years. Surely some had been tested by fire and remained faithful. There were those who’d led ministries and others who had followed well. They’d prayed for the sick and for missionaries, sung in choirs, been on boards, taught children, and made casseroles. I also suspected that along the way some of them had given a pastor fits. Call it the law of averages. But there they were, late in life, still in church, singing with the saints and listening to the Word.

Their pastor was preaching from 1 John, the book I’m also currently teaching. As you know, it seems like John had a one-track mind: “Love one another.” No Christian virtue matters more than that. No command gets so much New Testament ink. And no Christians are so strategically positioned to obey that great command as pastors are.

If there is one thing that seeps out of every interaction I have with good pastors it is that they love their people. Pastors brag and dote on their people. “There’s a woman in our church who is such a prayer warrior,” one says. “We have this amazing guy who has helped so many people.” As I arrived at a church where I was to speak, I saw a guy outside the building, bundled up against the cold Wisconsin wind, waving at every car that came into the parking lot. I thought, Well, there are characters in every church! But as I walked up to the door, I realized it was Pastor Jeff. He told me his first pastor had done that (albeit in southern California) so he does it, too. He couldn’t have said “I love you” any clearer if he’d been wearing a Valentine around his neck.

Of course, few Christians know the price of loving one another quite like pastors do. Scattered among those beloved saints who pray for us, who love our sermons, and who would do anything for us, are the stinkers, rascals, and heartbreakers.

In Dostoevsky’s Brothers Karamazov, the skeptical brother, Ivan, is challenging his devout brother, Alyosha: “If I must love my fellow man, he had better hide himself, for no sooner do I see his face than there’s an end to my love for him. … In my opinion, Christ’s love for human beings was an impossible miracle on earth. But He was God. And we are no gods.” And right there, John would smile and clear his throat to say,

We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love each other. (1 John 3:14)

Loving a congregation doesn’t come naturally to anyone. It is supernatural work—“an impossible miracle on earth”—only possible for those who are raised with Christ. And you, dear shepherd, are a miracle worker!

John would be the first to tell us that Jesus didn’t command us to love one another because we’ll find one another so lovable (though God’s people so often are). We love our brothers and sisters because that’s what resurrected people do. It’s what our new life is good for! We don’t walk through walls or appear suddenly in a far-off place. We love one another with the astonishing, redemptive, self-sacrificing love of Jesus. What could be better than that!

Be ye glad!

Lee Eclov

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