We’ve been reading Scripture from First Peter, the letter attributed to the Apostle Peter but almost certainly written years after his death. The letter was written at a time of great persecution of those who chose to follow the examples and teachings of Jesus—in other words, not merely to believe, but to act in defiance of the oppressive government and institutionalized Temple, to champion the rights of the poor and to insist that those who were ill should be cared for. The followers were living in hiding because of the threats against them; the letter was apparently written to five churches in what we now know as Turkey.

The author invites the readers—those who read the letter for the first time in about 90 C.E. as well as those who read it today—to lift up their heads, to come out of the safe places and to speak out. Imitate Jesus; do as Jesus did. Welcome the suffering, the persecution, the certain rejection at the hands of those whose power you will be threatening and whose comfort you will certainly disturb. Consider it a blessing to be ridiculed and scorned; let your scars be a badge of honor.

This weekend, as if a day or two were sufficient, we honor the ones who not only suffered but who also died, giving their lives in the act of military service to the United States of America. These are the ones who lived their love of country, many at times in our history when suffering was guaranteed. As I read the stories of military heroes (known and unknown), I am surprised at how casually many men and women entered into military service, expecting something very different—something neater, cleaner, more organized, perhaps—than the experiences of war that became their destinies and resulted either in death or in lives markedly different than those they foresaw. And, yet, the most remarkable thing is that, even as these citizen-soldiers found themselves in the presence of the most horrible chaos and hellish situations, courage arose from somewhere deep within and carried them forward when all of their senses must have urged them to run the other way. We are a nation blessed by the inexplicable courage and enduring love of those whose love has carried them into situations from which there could be no escape, no return.

And so it seems that we, who choose today to proclaim that we are followers of Jesus might also live with courage, boldly living into the example that Jesus has provided. Where we see injustice, we are called to demand justice. Where we see oppression, we are called to step into the breach and to lift the oppressed to liberty. Where we see those who are ill and about to be deprived any reasonable chance to have access to the same quality of healthcare as their elected representatives, we are called to cry foul and, then, to do all in our power to protect the vulnerable ones. Where we see those who are disabled or limited by physical or mental conditions, and they are identified as easy targets for the reduction of opportunities, we are called to point out the human costs and the loss of the contributions those with “limitations” make to our society. When we see the buildup of military forces and arms without sufficient explanation of threats and purposes, we are called to lie down in front of the machinery of war and mayhem and to demand that swords be beaten into plowshares.

Our time has come, as followers of Jesus. The governments across the face of the earth, including our own, have turned away from the care of our citizens to the buildup of military alliances and forces, as well as to nationalistic claims of “(my country) first.” Are we likely to suffer as we meet this call?

No. Our suffering is guaranteed.

Who will follow Jesus now?