Yesterday’s post, Pregnancy and Eschatology, attempted to introduce us to the state of expectancy and anticipation that comes at the end of pregnancy and at the end of this age. As I thought more about pregnancy and the different seasons, rhythms, trimesters within, I also began to see similar patterns within the life of the church.
The early christians ordered their lives around the reality that Jesus’ return could be today. There were heresies and the establishment of early orthodoxy, primitive liturgies and creeds, persecutions and apostasy. It was a pretty rough time to be a Christian. There were years of relative peace only to be abruptly disrupted by persecutions akin to the Diocletian persecution in the early 4th century. This is also a time when the church first germinated with the blood of the martyrs and spread across the Roman Empire. This is how it was during the first trimester of my wife’s pregnancy. She never knew when morning sickness would strike, how long it would last, or where she would be. There was no equilibrium established with the quickly developing baby. In the first trimester more than any other, the child is most susceptible to birth defects, but also grows from something that resembles a human cell into something that resembles a human person.
Then for some women, the persecution of the morning sickness and exhaustion cease as they begin the second trimester of pregnancy. All of a sudden, life starts to stabilize and the pregnant woman is able to be social, active, and filled with energy again. The second trimester is a time of feasting and slowly growing the child. My wife tells me, out of all the trimesters, the second is the most comfortable and enjoyable. This trimester marks the rise of Christendom with the issuing of the Edict of Milan which gave Christians the freedom to worship in the Roman Empire. The worship of the church after three centuries of it being persecuted, private, and primitive, now is adapted into a public service with elaborate liturgies, public basilicas and places of worship, and sophisticated creeds. Eventually over the course of 1,200 years, the church grew bigger and more powerful. Soon, like the baby in the third trimester, the church became a megalith of power and luxury in a feudal middle age. A sight that everyone’s eyes are immediately drawn to.
The church grew so large and wielded such temporal power in the nations, that there were cries for reformation. All of a sudden the persecution of morning sickness and exhaustion from the first trimester return. The church grows and becomes distinct in its parts as it spreads out like a baby in the third trimester pushing her distinct body parts against the abdominal wall of her mother. Christendom has grown into this new age of the church, one of even further expansion, growth, and development into the ends of the earth. Like a baby in the third trimester, new happenings are occurring in unforeseen places, while other parts of the world remain much the same.
Then like a thief in the night, like a fire alarm in a midday staff meeting, like a cell phone call waking you up early in the morning … the labor pains begin. And the baby and the church are born into the life they were intended to live all along. Life in the light of a new world, with open eyes, and deep breaths. Life in the arms of parents who love you and in the embrace of a triune God who calls you his bride.
