I was thinking the other day of a battle I won simply because I didn’t fight it.

More than once, I had been sorely tempted to wade into the fray on my own behalf. After all, in my thinking, I had been badly treated. Why shouldn’t I feel free to point it out or do something about it?

Every time I got to that point, the Lord arrested me. If my life belongs to him, then so do all my battles. When I get involved, I never know how much of my cause is really just, and how much is my own injured pride or self-interest.

Not even the disciples understood what Jesus was saying when he talked about dying and rising on the third day. That’s why Calvary was such a bitter end to all their hopes.

I have always felt Christians should be as accurate as they can be in everything they say.  This applies whether you have three university degrees or whether you barely got out of high school.  It’s not a matter of education, it’s a matter of truth.

There’s an intriguing paragraph tucked in at the end of Acts 2.  It gives a brief description of the first church in Jerusalem.  I wish it were longer, but I suspect God kept it short because he didn’t want everyone to try to make an exact replica out of it.  But the principles listed there are important.

It starts with this statement: “And they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”

Friendship is a highly underrated theological category. We spiritualize our relationships in church by calling each other brother and sister. We formalize our relationships in church by calling each other pastor, bishop, apostle and goodness knows what else.

But Jesus brought it right down to ground level: “I have called you my friends.” That’s why the Quakers called their movement the “Society of Friends.” Maybe they had a point.