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        Already around the turn of the second century, Christians found themselves defending their assertion that Jesus would return. It had been a core element of their proclamation from the beginning of the movement; Jesus himself may have believed he would return within the lifetimes of some of his followers (see Mark 9:1). But now, by the time the anonymous letter known as 2 Peter was written, the delay of Christ’s second advent had caused something of a crisis for many Christian believers, and had opened the church up to mockery by their opponents. 2 Peter 3 addresses both concerns.
        Another 1,900 years or so later, the question of Jesus’s return, or Parousia, is again a source of embarrassment or disappointment for many in the church. This central claim, that at the end of the age Christ will return to set right all that is wrong in the world, punish evildoers, and reign for a thousand years of peace, seems an empty dream at best. And some of those who still believe it bring disrepute on the church through their feverish claims that the most insignificant developments in world politics are sure signs that the Parousia is near, and through the theologically suspect doctrine of the Rapture, whereby all true Christians will be snatched out of the world before the “Great Tribulation” so they can enjoy a front-row seat in heaven to watch the world burn, as I said in my sermon last Sunday.
        For the rest of us, it’s hard to know what to make of all these claims and counter-claims. After a delay of nearly two millennia, some don’t even believe that a return of Christ will ever happen.
        I understand that attitude, but I think it’s a mistake. I believe we need the promise of renewal and redemption that is the heart of the talk of Jesus’s return. We need more than ever to cling to the hope that promise brings, especially when we consider the hopelessness and injustice that so often characterize life in this world in these days. This is not to say that we can abdicate our responsibility to care for the world and the people who live here. The prospect of ultimate renewal does not give us license to let the world go to hell—to go on raping and abusing the natural world and to consign billions of people to poverty, hunger, war, and oppression. We still need to nurture life and seek peace and the full flourishing of all denizens of earth, human and otherwise.
        The writer of 2 Peter provides the motivation we need for this task when he (or she?) says, “The Lord … is patient with you, not wanting any to perish, but all to come to repentance” (v. 9). God wants none of God’s children to live in abject poverty or war zones, or under brutal dictators. God weeps at our irresponsibility in caring for our fellow humans and for the earth. And through the delay of the “day of the Lord,” God offers us the opportunity to join in God’s work of redemption. The writer suggests that we “regard the patience of our Lord as salvation” (v. 15), and that we “[lead] lives of holiness and godliness” (v. 11) during the interim. An essential element of holiness and godliness, I would argue, is to work diligently to make God’s commonwealth a reality “on earth as it is in heaven,” as we say in the Lord’s Prayer.
        Waiting is hard, especially when you have no idea how long you will have to wait. Fortunately, we have work to keep us occupied during our period of waiting. Let us work, then, for the renewal and redemption of every creature and of creation itself, trusting that someday the waiting will end, Christ will return, and all things will be made right.

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