Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.
1 Peter 4:12 (NIV)

Wendy and I have been reading a growing number of articles in the morning that chronicle individuals who have been singled-out and persecuted for failing to march lock-step with the prevailing dogma of whatever group is in control. In one article we read this week, a woman and her husband moved their entire family from one part of the country to another because of the way they’d been blackballed by entire social groups to which they’d been blissfully a part of for decades.

This is not a one-sided phenomenon. It’s happening on both sides of the political spectrum. It’s happening in politics, religion, business, and academia. What I am observing — and at times personally experiencing — in our current social landscape is a return of social ostracism as a form of punishment.

None of this is new. It is as old as human empire itself. If Peter were to pay us a visit, he would say, “Welcome to the club.”

In the Roman Empire of Peter’s day, social standing was everything. It was an adult version of high school on steroids. If you accepted Roman culture and went with the flow every little thing was going to be alright. If you failed to participate, if you hinted at not accepting the prevailing Roman rites, religions, and cultural norms – you would quickly find yourself on the outs in all sorts of ways.

It is exactly what Peter’s audience was experiencing. When a person, or an entire household became followers of Jesus, they no longer joined the drunken, sexually permissive festival culture. They stopped participating in sacrifices to local gods. They refused to honor the imperial cult (e.g. the Emperor is a god). They withdrew from trade guild feasts that involved offerings to idols.

Believers were therefore seen as suspicious, held in contempt. Colleagues unfollowed them on Roman LinkedIn. Their membership at Roman Rotary was revoked. The neighborhood moms’ club made it obvious they were not welcome.

Not only that, but suddenly believers were held with suspicion and became the subject of outrageous rumors in their neighborhood and social circles. They were labeled atheists (because they rejected visible gods). They were accused of cannibalism (the sacrament of Communion misunderstood). They were suspected of sedition (refusal to call Caesar “Lord”).

It gets even more intimate. If a member of a Roman household became a believer, the ostracism and suffering began in the home. A wife, a child, a servant, or a slave who became a believer in a socially entrenched Roman household could expect domestic violence, expulsion from the household, loss of inheritance, and social severing.

This is the situation that Peter is addressing in his letter. When Peter writes of a “fiery ordeal,” he is not reaching for poetic flourish. Fire is already licking at the edges of their world.

On the surface, Peter is speaking directly to the social suffering I’ve just described.

He is also prophetic. Because in a short time the city of Rome will experience a tragic and catastrophic fire. Emperor Nero will scapegoat and blame the fire on Christians.

The types of suffering Peter’s audience are experiencing is only going to get worse. Rome will unleash a brutal campaign against the Jesus Movement. Believers will be tossed into arenas to be torn apart by wild animals for Roman entertainment. Christians will be impaled alive, covered in pitch, and become living torches at the Emperor’s garden parties. They will be rounded up and executed in mass crucifixions.

It is likely that Peter himself was crucified in the “fiery” persecution he prophetically foreshadows in today’s chapter.

I find my heart focused on two things as I meditate on these things in the quiet this morning.

The first focus is placing the current realities I experience and read about in proper historical context. The rising pressures, sufferings, and persecutions that Peter’s audience was experiencing was personally more devastating. The physical threat far greater. One of the reasons that I love history is that it provides a necessary contextual mirror. If I think I have truly experienced suffering, I need to slip my feet into the sandals of a first-century Roman slave who informs his owner that he is now a follower of Jesus and will no longer swear that the Emperor is a god and bow down in loyalty to him.

Imagine the quiet in that room. The oil lamp flickering. The master staring. The slave’s voice steady but trembling.

The second focus of my meditations is that context alone does not alleviate the sting of what some have experienced and suffered of late. Peter’s counsel still lands:

• Don’t be surprised.
• Don’t retaliate.
• Don’t be ashamed.
• Entrust myself to Jesus who is faithful, and who suffered for me.

As I head into the weekend, I find myself deeply grateful for the relatively safe, free, and peaceful life I enjoy each day. It is more safe, free, and peaceful than the vast majority of human beings experienced in all of human history.

I am also mindful of Peter’s prophetic foreshadowing. There’s no guarantee things on this earth will get better. The Great Story, and Jesus Himself, made clear that things will get worse in the final chapters.

But we’re not there yet. And so, I will enjoy my weekend with gratitude — and open with hands.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.