In Acts chap. 20, beginning at v. 17, Luke chronicles a conversation that Paul had arranged with the Elders at Ephesus.  In the record of this chat, Paul gave them clear warning that they as Elders had some work cut out for them.  Their flocks would have three choices of who to follow.  These Elders’ work would take two forms:

First, they had to remember what Paul had taught them (everything profitable, the whole counsel of God).  Paul saw himself “innocent of the blood of all men” because he had held no truth back from them.  He had proclaimed all God had given him to proclaim.  The Elders needed to clearly recall this whole counsel, then teach it to their flocks.

Second, they had to watch out for other teachings that would come from without (the world) and within (the Ephesian Elders).  Such teachings would come from teachers who would arise to either destroy the flock (fierce wolves), or to “draw disciples after themselves.”

He summarized their job in v. 28:  “Pay careful attention to yourselves and to all the flock.”  Why should they bother themselves with this?  Because the “Holy Spirit has made you overseers to care for the church of God.”  If that wasn’t reason enough for them to rise to the task, he then reminded them what it cost Jesus to care for the flock:  “which he purchased with his own blood.”

In v. 31 Paul continues to urge their utmost effort:  “Be alert, remembering that for three years I did not cease night or day to admonish everyone with tears.”  Is Paul reminding them of his passion, his all-out effort to raise up disciples who would endure to the end? 

In today’s Church, the same three options invite us:  We have the apostles’ teachings, we have teachers without the church, destroying the faith of disciples, and we have teachers within the church, seeking to draw disciples after themselves.

How should you or I tell the difference?

In discussing a Bible passage with anyone, a comment often enters the discussion:  “Well, that may be your interpretation, but . . .” 

When you, or I, or any other people read the Bible, does God intend for each of us to walk away with a personal take on what He had written by his apostle, prophet, teacher, wise man, historian, or author?  Does he want Fred to see that Charismania is correct, while John sees that Charismania ceased when the Bible was canonized?  Does he want Calvinists to see eternal security and Armenians to see eternal insecurity?  Does he want some husbands to see permission to remarry after dumping their wives, while other husbands see they should wait patiently for the hope of restoration of their marriage?

Is the Bible so vague, so indirect, that we cannot hope to ever agree on what it says, and what it doesn’t say?  Are we, like the Corinthians of old, destined to have divisions, sects, and doctrinal wars over the variety of interpretations?  Is the world around us destined to look always at a splintered, arguing Church, whose disunity testifies precisely the opposite of what the Church’s message should be:  Christ is not from the Father, and we are not his disciples?

How can you, I, or any other individual read the scriptures, and be confident that with study, prayer, and a teachable spirit, we each can actually know what God intended in the passage?  If I come up with the majority view, should I be confident?  How about the minority view?  What if I “like” what I think it says?  Is that a valid criteria?  Or what if I don’t like what it says?  How can a Christian, who wants to know God’s will and wisdom, become confident that he is actually hearing God in his reading of the scriptures?

Fighting, contending earnestly, for the “faith that was handed down once for all” is an interesting dilemma.  Just what do we fight against?  Many folks take from the verse in my previous post permission to fight others.  From the Catholic crusades to our modern American “Culture Wars” we have Christians freely attacking (physically or verbally) whomever stands in their way.  We have denominational wars as group x derides group y, as Protestant attacks Catholic, Catholic attacks Anglican, Anglican attacks Anglican, Protestant attacks Protestant, or (this list could go on and on and  . . .).

But is that the fight that Jude envisioned when he wrote?  Did he see our modern denominational squabbles, our efforts to ban gay marriage, or our protest marches?  Did he see our TV preachers pounding out hatred like Morse code on their pulpits?

I’d like to suggest that Jude envisioned a much more difficult fight.  And because this fight is so difficult, we are all tempted to settle for those other sorts of fights.  I believe Jude was calling each of his readers to engage in the battle with his own soul, his own mind, his own strength, and his own heart.  Only in these places could each reader have any hope of fighting to win.  Jesus put it bluntly:  “take the log out of your own eye so that you can see clearly . . .”  Paul put it bluntly:  “I don’t fight as a man beating the air.  No, I buffet my body to make it my slave.”

Peter put it much more elaborately.  First, he tells how we ought treat one another: 

Then he tells how we ought to treat ourselves:

Jesus said that the entire law and prophets could be summed up in just two simple commands:  “Love God” and “Love Your Neighbor.”  If that could be our that measuring stick (love for God and neighbor), how are we fairing in our fight “for the faith?”  Are we fighting the heresy in our own selves?  Are we making sure that our hearts, minds, souls, and spirits are completely on fire with love for God?  Is everything we do to others something that we’d want done to us?

If you’re like me, such a fight demands constant vigilance and effort.  I slip easily into those other sorts of fights.  I fall easily out of the fight against myself.  Solomon put it wisely: