A friend recently confessed political views in her church are so tense and divided, she canâ€™t bring up politics with her fellow Christians. A member in my own church asked me if it was okay to not call himself an evangelical at work because heâ€™s concerned people will draw the wrong conclusions. Many people I talk to are reluctant to evangelize for fear of losing their jobs. It’s been a dizzying year, askingÂ it easy to feel disoriented within our own society, churches, and even with God.
Although the details were different, the Apostle Peter wrote to people facing similar challenges. He sent a couple of letters to Christians from across five diverse regions who were experiencing cultural disorientation. His letters are saturated in wisdom for times like ours. Perhaps the most important piece is this: cultural disorientation is an opportunity to re-center hope.
Cultural disorientation is an opportunity to re-center hope.
Itâ€™s easy to slip into hoping people will accept us or our views. We often go to considerable lengths to make sure people think being Christian doesnâ€™t mean being weird, â€œYou should come on Sunday, there are a lot of really cool people there.â€ Or we may avoid gospel conversations altogether. But shouldnâ€™t being holy make us stick out a bit in an unholy culture? When cultural relevance becomes dear, we compromise our hope. Peter steers clear of this impulse to soften Christianity with the hope of cultural acceptance.
He also steers clear of cultural dominance, a posture more assertive and critical, more prone to attack or withdraw than to appease. When our hope slips into cultural dominance, we tend to get heated in political conversations, rant on social media, and subtly hope the government will become more like us. Sensing this temptation, Peter writes: â€œDo not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, blessâ€ (1 Pet. 3:9). He heads off a domineering, tit-for-tat attitude with an exhortation to bless those who call us names or show us evil.
So how do we move toward blessing others amidst the confusion?
Whenever we get lost, weâ€™re told to find a landmark, a star, a street name, something familiar and fixed, and work our way home from there. To re-center, we must fixate on Godâ€™s call to be exiles of hope.
Biblical hope is neither passive nor aggressive; it does not strive for cultural relevance or dominance. Instead, it operates on a different plane. It steps out of the cultural moment, refuses to be defined by it, and tries to view everything from the â€œeternal moment.â€ Peter writes: â€œBlessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for youâ€ (1 Pet. 1:3â€“4).
Peter expresses hope sometimes in an event, other times in an age, but always in a person: â€œthrough the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.â€ Jesus came from the future into the present, bringing some of heaven with him, to secure a resurrected future for us. In Jesus, life climbed out of death . . . and we climb out with him, with hope for a whole new world. So how does re-centering around this hope alter the way we respond to those around us?
The Difference of Hope
Immediately, Peter says our hope affects how we suffer: â€œIn this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trialsâ€ (1:6). When our hope is recentered in the risen Christ, we can rejoice in trials of all shapes and sizes. If the conversation gets tense around politics, we need not grow angry and embittered because we share a joyful inheritance in Christâ€™s future and just rule. However, we shouldnâ€™t avoid uncomfortable debate either, knowing that our hope compels us to bring some of heaven to earth now. Viewing our work from the eternal moment, we can risk disapproval by sharing hope for a just world in Jesus, while also laboring towards one.