That's Evidence

What Opposition Cannot Take Away

...in no way intimidated by your opponents. For them this is evidence of their destruction, but of your salvation.

— Philippians 1

There's a word in today's reading that caught my attention.

Evidence.

We hear that word a lot these days, particularly in conversations about religion. Where's your evidence? Follow the evidence. Show me the evidence. In some of the online conversations I encounter, evidence becomes almost a dividing line between people of faith and those who believe faith itself is irrational.

Fair enough. Evidence matters.

But Paul uses the word in an unexpected way.

He is writing from prison, and the Christians in Philippi know something about opposition themselves. Yet Paul tells them to stand firm together and to be “in no way intimidated by your opponents.” Then comes that remarkable statement: “For them this is evidence of their destruction, but of your salvation.”

At first glance, it can sound almost triumphant. See? They're attacking us. That's proof that they're doomed and we're saved.

I'm not sure that's the most useful way to hear Paul.

Look again at what immediately precedes the word evidence.

“In no way intimidated.”

Perhaps part of the evidence is what happens to us when opposition comes.

That's especially challenging for me in the age of social media. My feeds regularly bring me criticism of Christianity, and some of it isn't particularly interested in conversation. Sometimes it's ridicule. Sometimes somebody seems to be pushing buttons simply to see whether a Christian will react.

And, of course, sometimes I do.

But suppose somebody ridicules my faith and I immediately become angry. I insult his intelligence. I question his motives. I spend the next hour constructing the perfect response that will finally put him in his place.

What exactly have I demonstrated?

Paul offers another possibility.

Don't be intimidated.

That doesn't mean don't answer. It doesn't mean truth doesn't matter. It doesn't mean Christians should retreat from difficult conversations or pretend that serious disagreements don't exist.

It means I don't have to be frightened by them.

I don't have to prove myself every time somebody laughs at what I believe. I don't have to answer every taunt. I can respond when a response might be useful, walk away when it won't, and perhaps even discover that the person I initially regarded as an opponent has something worth hearing.

My salvation doesn't depend upon winning the exchange.

And neither does somebody else's destruction depend upon my declaring it.

Those words—destruction and salvation—are Paul's, and we shouldn't pretend they aren't there. Christianity makes claims about life, death and eternity that inevitably have consequences. But God remains the judge of those things. My assignment appears a few words earlier in the passage: live in a manner worthy of the Gospel.

That changes the question.

Instead of asking, How can I defeat this opponent? perhaps I should ask, What does my response provide evidence of?

Yesterday the Psalms told us to seek the Lord continually and to ponder His marvelous works. That's important here. Opposition doesn't have to interrupt the seeking.

Someone says Christianity is ridiculous?

Seek.

Someone questions whether God exists?

Ponder.

Someone deliberately tries to get a rise out of me?

Stand firm.

Keep going.

There's an echo here from our Holy Cross reflections earlier this week. Jesus encountered opposition about as completely as anyone possibly could. His opponents succeeded in having Him arrested, condemned and lifted onto a Cross. To anyone watching on that Friday, the evidence must have seemed overwhelming.

They had won.

Except they hadn't.

The very Cross intended to display His defeat became the enduring symbol of something else entirely.

Perhaps that's why Christians don't need to be terrified by opposition. Apparent defeat and ultimate reality aren't always the same thing.

And perhaps the most persuasive evidence I can offer isn't always another argument.

Someone can ridicule me.

Someone can disagree with me.

Someone can misunderstand what I believe.

Someone can even decide that my faith represents everything wrong with the world.

But that person doesn't have to determine what happens inside me.

There is something wonderfully freeing about that.

Yesterday: Seek.

Today: Stand.

And when somebody pushes the button and discovers that it no longer controls me?

That's evidence.

Reflectionary is an ongoing conversation with Scripture. If these reflections are meaningful to you, please subscribe and come back often. And by all means, join the conversation—your questions, disagreements, insights and reflections are always welcome.