Summary: God's love for us compels us to evangelize, and we are able to proclaim God’s salvation because we ourselves have received it

When designing a building, I typically don’t work alone. Although I could produce all of the necessary documents myself, I couldn’t work on very many projects and would quickly be spread thin. So I chose people to do certain tasks according to their strengths or an area in which they need to be trained up. I teach as necessary and I make sure that the person has all the tools needed to succeed. In our reading from Colossians, Paul talks to us about God’s management plan. The Lord requires a holy people, and He has selected us for the task. God has chosen us and equipped us to lead holy lives, bearing with each other and forgiving one another, as He has done for us.

v.12a “Therefore, as God’s chose people…”

Paul tells us that we are God’s elect. We are God’s precious and treasured possession, a people belonging to Him (cf. 1 Pe. 2:9). We are God’s chosen people. He does not choose us as a man chooses. As God told Samuel when he was inspecting the sons of Jesse, “The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart” (1 Sa. 16:7). And Moses told Israel, “The Lord did not set his affection on you and choose you because you were more numerous than other peoples, for you were the fewest of all peoples. But it was because the Lord loved you and kept the oath he swore to your forefathers…” (Dt. 7:7).

It is comforting that God did not choose me because I was good enough, not even better than some. We don’t have to be good enough because, even trying our best, we simply can’t. “For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight” (Eph 1:4). God determined that He would love us while we were still separated from Him. His love for us was so great that He didn’t wait for us to come to Him, but He came to us first.

And God’s love isn’t just for you and for me and whoever else has been baptized. God loves all men. “He is patient with [us], not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance” (2 Pe. 3:9). How awesome is the calling to be a part of God’s chosen, holy people!

v.12b “…holy and dearly loved…”

The Hebrew for “holy” comes from the word meaning “to cut or separate.” Holiness is being cut off from what is unclean. Holiness is being separated from what is not pure. Holiness does not permit even a smidgen of taint. But it’s not just negative. Holiness isn’t as much “separation from,” it’s more about “separation unto.” It’s a setting apart of something for a special purpose. We say that God is Holy: it’s one of His characteristics. And this means that God separates Himself from all that is not good and pure and right—from all that is not of Him—and that He sets Himself apart for all that is good and pure and right—for all that is of Him.

Holiness is like that for us as well. We are called to be separated. Jesus says, “You do not belong to the world, but I have chose you out of the world” (Jn. 15:19). We are called to live in a manner unlike the world, on a different level. Peter writes, “For you have spent enough time doing what pagans choose to do… They think it strange that you do not plunge with them into the same flood of dissipation, and they heap abuse on you” (1 Pe 4:4). The world doesn’t get it. The world is holy unto another master: the world lives for the flesh.

The life that we live, we live for Christ. We are not called to drift off in la-la land; God has given us a mission, for which we have been set apart. Jesus continues, “As you [Father] sent me into the world, I have sent them into the world” (Jn.17:18). Our holiness places us squarely outside the world, but the love of God draws us back into the world to proclaim His salvation.

And we are able to proclaim God’s salvation because we ourselves have received it. I can speak well of God as Father, because I have an earthly father who loves me and has taught me by example what true fatherhood looks like. But have you ever talked to someone who didn’t have a father, or whose father was abusive? It’s difficult for them to accept God as Father until those wounds are healed. But when they are healed and restored, the way that person raves about their heavenly Father and how much He means to them and loves them is moving.

v12c “…clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

When we receive Christ and are washed in the waters of Baptism, we are made clean and pure—holy. Some Christians illustrate this spiritual truth by having the newly baptized put on a pure white robe. That’s just what this alb is, a reminder that the man, Jon Mark Lipka, ministers not because of his flesh and humanness, but because of his spiritual life received in Baptism. The old life—which was a living death—was left in the waters, like a crab that leaves behind its shell when it molts. The crab doesn’t fit into its old shell any longer; if it tried to remain inside, it simply couldn’t—it just won’t work.

As Paul writes in the epistle, “Put to death…whatever belongs to your earthly nature…. You used to walk in these ways, in the life you once lived. But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these…. [Y]ou have taken off your old self with its practices and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge in the image of its Creator” (Col. 3:5,7,8,10–11). We have taken off the old self: it no longer fits, like the molted shell of a crab or like pants five sizes too small.

And now we go about in our new self. We are to “clothe [ourselves] with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” These are our new clothes and, unlike many products advertised, one size truly does fit all. Last Sunday I was approached by a hungry homeless man as I was coming out of the grocery store who asked for food—how little it was for me to help him. And yet there’s much room for us to grow into compassion—I gave him something that would satisfy him not even for a day. Compassion fits right now, but there’s much room to grow into it!

v13 “Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you.”

Now all up to this point is not easy. These things are important, they have practical implications for how we live. So Paul ups the ante. As if clothing ourselves in “compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” weren’t enough, he says, “Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another” (Col. 3:13).

Paul knew that unforgiveness is a poison that rots the soul from within. Bearing with each other doesn’t mean that we can tolerate somebody but hold resentment toward them. No, Paul tells us, “Bear each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (Gal. 6:2). The law of Christ is to love God and neighbor. Bearing with each other must mean that we go beyond mere tolerance, and proceed to love.

Shall I have compassion on my brother, and not do something about his suffering? Shall I have kindness, and not treat others like the bearers of God’s own image and likeness? Shall I have humility, and not admit when I have failed another person? Shall I have gentleness, and not be touched when I see someone else bludgeoned with their own failings? Shall I have patience, and not bear the burden of my neighbor? In no way can I put on the new self and have Christ be all-in-all in me, if there are not real consequence for how I live.

But how can we love those who annoy me, who cause us trouble, who hurt us? How can we bear with them genuinely, from the heart? Easy. We must…forgive.

|| Forgiveness is the first action of love. ||

How can that be? Well, who have you ever met who was perfect, who didn’t annoy you, or, worst of all, disappoint? Nobody! Nobody is a perfect friend, colleague, acquaintance, father, mother, son, or daughter. My mom is as much a saint as I’ve known but, for all that, she has let me down. She has lost and thrown away things that I cared about, broken things that I treasured, she has forgotten things important to me, and she has insisted that I do things that were (in my estimation) pointless. For all that she’s done wrong, I don’t know, maybe I shouldn’t bear with her—maybe I should tell her, “Enough!”

Wouldn’t that be the height of wickedness? How ungrateful a son, if that was how I treated my mother! Whatever wrong she may have done me, how can I not bear with her? How can I not forgive her?

v14 “And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”

See, it’s my love for my mother that changes me. Yes, injustice has been done, but how much more has she forgiven my wrongs? Yes, I could make some claim but so could she. And my patience demands that I hold out time to mend the wounds. Kindness demands that I forbear her weaknesses. Gentleness (meekness) demands that I not exercise my power of recourse. Compassion demands that I not wait to be asked for forgiveness but offer it up and seek reconciliation. Love takes the measure of justice and weights it out against mercy. Love doesn’t tell us to blindly ignore our grievances, but it does tell us to bring mercy to the judgment seat. Love reminds us that we ourselves have been forgiven by the Lord, and seek reconciliation instead of domination or ceasefire.

Love binds all things together in unity and does not allow one concern to rise over another, to the detriment of the whole. Without love, mercy is in danger of becoming indifference toward evil. Without love, patience is at risk of becoming tolerance of injustice. Without love, gentleness can turn into passivity and weakness. Without love, humility can become self-denigration and can become itself a source of pride in one’s own lowliness. Without love, kindness can allow and enable evil behavior. Without love, compassion becomes an end in itself, where the feeler derives pleasure from the sense of sorrow but never is moved to action. Love demands action. It demands the taking away of whatever kills, steals, and destroys. It does not seek its own glory but the glory of another. Love is not weak: love is far from passive and weak, it is active and powerful.

Love is the key element in our lives that separates us from those who lack Jesus Christ. The world loves for selfish reasons: because it makes us feel good, it gives a sense of camaraderie, because we’re all stuck in this world together and we might as well get along. Christian love is not rooted in anything selfish. The greatest symbol of love is Christ crucified, the most selfless act in all of history. Christian love is founded outside the individual. We love because Christ first loved us. We love not because others are lovable, but because of our love for God and our striving to be like him—to give up ourselves for the world, just as Jesus did.

In Ecclesiastes, Solomon tells us the value of all human labor, efforts, yes even love, done for man’s sake. What does he say? You know the refrain! “Meaningless! Meaningless! All is meaningless!” When the Lord tells a greedy man that his life will be demanded from him—the man who has lived for himself and his own pleasures—, he tries to hold tightly onto his life and does not let it go. But for the man who is rich toward God—the man who understand all that he has is a gift and blessing given from above—, for this man, when God says, “This very night your life will be demanded from you,” then that man will respond, “All my life has been given to you and for you. I willingly return to you what you have given to me. Here are your five talents, and see I have gained you five more.”