A Positive Difference
If I had to summarize Peter’s message in this letter, it would be simple: “Be different as Christ is different.” Peter repeatedly acknowledges a sort of spiritual friction that Christ-followers will feel as they follow Christ in the world. He refers to them repeatedly as “exiles” (1:1; 2:11), that is, people who belong to another kingdom (or another “nation,” we might say today). He frequently makes reference to the “suffering” they might expect. (Peter’s use of the word “suffer” in this single letter accounts for nearly one-third of the word’s use in the New Testament.[1]) The particular suffering Peter imagines is not necessarily extreme forms of persecution, like imprisonment or death, but rather social forms of discrimination and ostracism. More than once, he gives advice for how to respond when society “maligns”—or “speaks badly of”—Christ-followers (Pet 2:12; 3:16). The reason for these insults is, in a word, difference or strangeness. Christ-followers are weird. Their rich and poor share goods and call each other “brother” and “sister.” They refuse to sacrifice to the emperor in order to enter the marketplace. They abstain from going to the coliseum. They make pledges not to kill others and decline to serve in the Roman army.
A prominent Roman philosopher and critic of Christianity in the second century, Celsus, saw this difference of Christians as evidence of a sort of contrarian character. He once wrote, “If all [people] wanted to be Christian, the Christians would no longer want them.” He thought they defined themselves by their opposition to the world and could not exist if there were not a world to condemn and oppose.
This critique may strike a nerve with us, if we’re honest. Many of the cultural identities that we wear today are constructed in a negative fashion, meaning they are defined by who they are against rather than what they are for. It’s perhaps easiest to see this in our partisan politics, which is fueled by outrage at what “they” (the other side) have done or said. But we may also see it in some modern expressions of Christianity as well, such as in the culture wars, where battle lines are quickly drawn and a holy war is waged against certain values and practices.
What I find fascinating in 1 Peter—and what is evident in the first verse that we read—is that Peter rarely defines our faith in a negative fashion over against other people:
8 Finally, all of you, have unity of spirit, sympathy, love for one another, a tender heart, and a humble mind.
Here, we read an invitation toward behavior defined in a positive manner. Peter encourages Christlike behavior: mutual care, tenderness, and humility.
When Peter does offer his audience negative examples—how not to behave—it is noteworthy that he does this not by identifying enemies or opponents but by recalling his audience’s past behavior. “Do not be conformed to the desires that you formerly had…” (1:14; cf. 1:18). In other words, Peter does not say, “Do not be as your wicked neighbors are!” but rather “Do not be as you were!”[2]
“Repay with a Blessing”: Teaching Others a Lesson
Next in our scripture, Peter unfolds what is perhaps the most distinctive trait of Christ—and the strangest, weirdest characteristic of his followers:
9 Do not repay evil for evil or abuse for abuse; but, on the contrary, repay with a blessing. It is for this that you were called—that you might inherit a blessing.
Non-retaliation is weird enough. But Christ and his followers go beyond that. They respond to evil and abuse “with a blessing.”
Just to drive home how strange this is, how seemingly weak and foolish it is, we only have to think of our natural instincts, or what Peter earlier calls “the futile ways [we] inherited” (1:18). Sometimes when I am with my nephews and they push the boundaries, my first instinct is, “I need to teach them a lesson.” My hunch is that this is the way most of us are tempted to respond in moments of conflict. Maybe we forgo the baser urge to “get even” or to render some form of “payback,” but at the very least it seems only wise to teach the other person a lesson, to ensure consequences that will perhaps act as a deterrent in the future.
Deterrence is the wisdom of our world. And perhaps it is effective in some forms, even helpful. But the wisdom of God is different. The wisdom of God is redemption. The lesson that God teaches is irrational, a complete surprise. On the cross, Christ repays with a blessing. With non-retaliation. With forgiveness.
Consider it a bit of spiritual homework. The next time you find yourself thinking to yourself, “Well, I’ll teach them a lesson”—whoever “them” is, whatever “they’ve” done—ponder how you might “repay with a blessing.” Maybe instead of trying to get the last word, you show care for a need or concern of your adversary. Perhaps instead of nursing a resentment, you consider the wound that precipitated the wrong that was done you, and you pray with compassion for whoever offended you. It’s counterintuitive, for sure, what the world might call “weak” or “foolish,” but according to the gospel it is the one lesson worth teaching, the one lesson that can transform and redeem the heart. It is what Christ did for us, and what we are called to do for others.
Just to be clear, to talk about “repaying with a blessing” is not to say that Jesus turns a blind eye toward injustice. Clearly he does not, as he frequently calls out the religious leaders for their hypocrisy and greed and theft. But what makes him weird, strange, different, is that he does all of this not with an eye toward revolution, toward seizing power and changing things; rather he does all of this with an open, noncoercive invitation to let go of that old behavior and join him in the kingdom. Like the father in the story of the prodigal son, who rushes out to the older, self-righteous son, pleading with him to join the celebration, to enter into his father’s love—so Jesus speaks imploringly to the religious leaders, like Nicodemus, like Simon the Pharisee. Jesus’ blessing is equally available for them, if they would receive it.
10 For
“Those
who desire life
and
desire to see good days,
let
them keep their tongues from evil
and
their lips from speaking deceit;
11 let
them turn away from evil and do good;
let
them seek peace and pursue it.
12 For
the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
and
his ears are open to their prayer.
But the face of the Lord is against those who do evil.”
Here Peter quotes from Psalm 34, which he quotes elsewhere too in his letter. In fact, it appears that Psalm 34 was a favorite among early Christians, as it appears frequently in other ancient Christian letters as well (e.g., Heb 12:14; 1 Clem 22:2-8). It is worth noting that, like Peter, this portion of Psalm 34 does not simply advise a negative difference—i.e., do not be like them. It invites a particular sort of behavior, a positive orientation: “Turn away from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it.” Recited in the context of the life of Jesus Christ, these words point toward a radical commitment to peace. Pursue peace as Christ did, who uttered forgiveness on the cross (Luke 23:34), who did not breathe threats of vengeance and resentment after his resurrection but rather repeatedly proclaimed “Peace be with you” (John 20:19, 21).
“To Anyone Who Asks You…”
13 Now who will harm you if you are eager to do what is good? 14 But even if you do suffer for doing what is right, you are blessed. Do not fear what they fear, and do not be intimidated, 15 but in your hearts sanctify Christ as Lord. Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you—more literally, “to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you”; 16 yet do it with gentleness and reverence.
Church historian Alan Kreider observed that the early communities of Christ-followers did not talk about “evangelism.” They did not put an emphasis on “mission.” Even so, they slowly, organically grew in number. How? I think it could be boiled down to Peter’s essential message: “Be different as Christ is different.” Early Christ-followers stood out in their world for their difference, their strangeness, their weirdness. Alan Kreider says they were “question-posing” people, so much so that others around them asked, “What’s going on with those folks?”
This picture matches up with what we read in our scripture. For Peter, people come to Christ not because they’ve heard a great sermon or gone to an emotionally inspiring worship service. People come to Christ because they see Christ in their neighbor, who steadily, day-after-day, lives differently from most people. And so they eventually ask questions. “Why do you live this way?” Or as Peter implies in today’s scripture, they ask, “What is the reason for your hope?”
Jesus said that the kingdom comes not with grandeur and spectacle, such that people are looking and pointing and saying, “Here it is! Look at that!” Rather it comes, he says, in small, unobservable ways that speak to the heart (Luke 17:20-21). I think Peter is getting at a similar point, saying that it is the little, day-to-day things we do that resemble Christ and make us look different. Just as we might notice the quirks and eccentricities of a friend or neighbor over a period of time, so people might notice the same thing about Christ in us.
A poem by A. E. Stallings represents this truth in a beautiful way, noticing that the little habits we cultivate are in fact seeds of the future:
Grudges,
infants, fears, small things we nurse.
The
future is a dream that will come true.
But that could be a blessing, not a curse.[3]
“In Order to Bring You to God”
Keep your conscience clear, so that, when you are maligned, those who abuse you for your good conduct in Christ may be put to shame. 17 For it is better to suffer for doing good, if suffering should be God’s will, than to suffer for doing evil. 18 For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God. He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit….
Christ suffered, Peter says, “in order to bring [us] to God.” The reason for Christ’s hope—what inspired him to turn the other cheek, to pour out forgiveness instead of wrath, to proclaim peace in the wake of his great pain—was that we might be brought to God. The reason for his hope was that he might teach us a lesson—a lesson we would never learn from the world. The lesson that we are God’s beloved children, with whom God is well pleased.
If I could rewrite the stanza I shared with you a moment ago, I would add one word.
Grudges,
infants, fears—and hope—small things we nurse.
The
future is a dream that will come true.
But that could be a blessing, not a curse.
Prayer
Lord Christ,Who repays with a blessing,
Who teaches a baffling—
And life-saving—lesson
…
Help us to nurse
Not fears or grievances,
But hope that others
Might know their blessedness
And enjoy the fullness of your love.
May we always be ready
To teach the world your lesson:
Amen.
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