What does it look like to live well as a Christian vet? Or a Christian vet nurse? What does it look like to live well as a Christian in a secular occupation and in a secular world?
Daniel – a Jewish politician who lived in the Neo-Babylonian empire in the 6th century BC – might seem like an odd conversation partner when it comes to these questions. But his world was not as different from ours as we might initially think. He, like most of us, lived in a world of second choice, in circumstances he did not choose and would not have chosen. He also, like us, lived in a world where God’s presence wasn’t obvious anymore. And he lived in a world in which he was not at home – like all of us human beings, who live in a world that is no longer the perfect world for which we were created and designed.
So what then does Daniel have to say to us about living well as followers of God in a secular occupation in a secular world? I think his example in Daniel chapter 1 tells us a few things:
1.Living well as a christian vet involves living with tension
Daniel lived under enormous tensions. He was working for the enemy, the evil king of Babylon. He had a double identity – Daniel the exile, but also Belteshazzar the slave of Babylon. The Babylonians were attempting to completely assimilate him to their culture – contrary to all the warnings of the old testament about becoming like the other nations. The Babylonians had a systematic plan to make Daniel into nothing more than a little Babylonian.
But notice something here: Daniel didn’t resolve the tension. He could have resisted – died a martyr, a hero, the man who stood up to Nebuchadnezzar. Or he could have just gone with the flow – embraced Babylon, been assimilated. He took neither option, and instead he lived with the tension. God had called him to this situation of tension, and he wasn’t going to run away from it or resolve it too quickly.
Like Daniel, God often calls us to live in the middle of tension. He often calls us to circumstances where we feel pulled in different directions: jobs that are difficult; churches that are messy; relationships that are complicated. The temptation for us is to resolve the tension, sort things out. That can be the right thing to do sometimes. But it is not always right: often God calls us to stick with tension. Daniel was right in the centre of God’s will for his life, in a place of tremendous tension. Sometimes God calls us to that place also.
2.Living well as a christian vet involves engaging with the ordinary
Daniel engaged with the language and literature of the Babylonians. He excelled in his study of these things; he got involved in the culture; he pursued a career amongst the grubby politics of the Babylonian empire.
God often calls us to engage with ordinary things. I think it was Martin Luther, the 16th century church leader, who was asked: “What does it mean to be a Christian shoemaker?” He replied, “Make good shoes, for a good price.” That doesn’t seem very distinctive – honest non-Christian shoemakers make good shoes for a good price. But God doesn’t call us to extraordinary distinctive things all the time. Much of what he calls us to is fairly ordinary: practising good medicine, doing our best for the animals in our care, treating clients with respect.
After all, this is how God has designed the world: God employs people – both Christians and non-Christians – to get ordinary things done. God wants little Jonny to visit his gran at the weekend, and he could enable Jonny to sprout wings and fly, but instead he employs a bus driver who serves God (perhaps unknowingly) by enabling Jonny to visit his gran. Or God wants little Jonny to learn to read and write, and he could ‘zap’ him so that he never had to go to school, but instead God employs teachers who serve him by teaching Jonny to read and write. Or God wants Jonny’s hamster to not suffer – again God could miraculously heal the hamster – but instead God usually employs a vet who serves God by treating Jonny’s hamster. God wanted Babylon to run well politically and administratively in the sixth century BC, and so he employed Daniel.
We are not called to serve God by forgetting the ordinary things of life; we are not called to disengage. Instead, living well as a Christian vet often involves serving God in the ordinary, like Daniel did in sixth century Babylon.
3.Living well as a christian vet involves drawing lines in the sand
Daniel engaged with Babylonian culture – he got stuck in, and took on the language and learning of that empire – but at some point he drew a line in the sand. We don’t know why Daniel and his three friends in Daniel chapter 1 wouldn’t eat the food from the king’s table – people have had all sorts of theories over the years, but we are simply not told. What we do know is that, despite Daniel’s willingness to take on many aspects of Babylonian culture, at some point he drew a line in the sand.
That is helpful for us. We can’t avoid talking on some of our culture – that is not the problem. The problem is when we have no line in the sand, and no point when we say ‘enough is enough’. For example, personally I am not too concerned about whether Christians are tee-total or are willing to drink one pint or two pints – as long as they have some sort of line in the sand. I’m not too concerned about whether people give 10% of their money away, or 20%, or 2% (if they are struggling) – what concerns me is people who have no line in the sand and so when things get tight they end up giving nothing away. I don’t know whether Christians should watch 18-rated films, but I do think there is a problem if there is no film we won’t refuse to watch, or nothing that will make us turn off the TV. I don’t know about working on a Sunday, but what worries me is Christians who are getting more and more booked up with other activities on a Sunday such that meeting together with others to worship God is no longer a priority but is getting squeezed out.
In short, I don’t know why Daniel didn’t eat the food from the king’s table in Daniel chapter 1. But I do know that Daniel had a line in the sand. We also need to have lines in the sand. We need sometimes to say ‘no’.
What then does it look like to live well as a Christian in a secular occupation and in a secular world? It involves living with tension, engaging with the ordinary, drawing lines in the sand. Daniel tells us this is possible, even in the most extreme of circumstances. Daniel tells us that as we seek to do this, God will be alongside us, right in the middle of things.
What does it look like to live well as a Christian vet? Or a Christian vet nurse? What does it look like to live well as a Christian in a secular occupation and in a secular world?
Daniel, a Jewish politician who lived in the Neo-Babylonian empire in the 6th century BC, might seem like an odd conversation partner when it comes to these questions. But his world was not as different from ours as we might initially think. He, like most of us, lived in a world of second choice, in circumstances he did not choose and would not have chosen. He also, like us, lived in a world where God’s presence wasn’t obvious anymore. And he lived in a world in which he was not at home – like all of us human beings, who live in a world that is no longer the perfect world for which we were created and designed.
So, what then does Daniel have to say to us about living well as followers of God in a secular occupation in a secular world? I think the lions’ den story in Daniel chapter 6 gives us a few principles:
1. The real-strength principle:
Real strength is not the same as outward power
There’s a clear contrast drawn in this story between King Darius and Daniel. Darius was the man of the moment, who had taken over the kingdom and was reorganising the government. If Time magazine had existed in those days, Darius would have certainly been on the cover. He had all the outward power. And yet the story shows us the real Darius: weak, manipulated by his advisors, a slave to his own law, unable to save Daniel.
In contrast Daniel doesn’t look very strong. He’s an old man, probably in his 80s by the time this story takes place. He’s a victim of scheming and injustice. We see him being thrown into a den of lions. And yet the story shows us that real strength lies not with Darius, but with Daniel. Daniel doesn’t compromise his convictions. Daniel doesn’t flinch in the face of adversity. Daniel continues to serve God and to pray to God no matter the consequences he might face. According to this passage, real strength and outward power are not the same thing.
Does that sound familiar? Think of Jesus Christ in front of Pilate. Pilate is the Roman governor. He holds life and death in his hands. He has the outward power. And yet he people-pleases: he releases the true criminal, Barabbas the murderer; and instead condemns a man he knows to be innocent, washing his hands of the whole affair. Jesus Christ, on the other hand, is in chains, having been betrayed, unjustly accused, beaten. Yet in that moment, he is the strong one – unflinching in his commitment to follow through with the mission he had been called to; forgiving of his enemies; bravely facing the cross. Real strength isn’t the same as outward power.
That is important. So often our ambitions are to be powerful, to be respected, to be in charge – to be head nurse or senior vet. We make the goal of our lives to become like Darius or Pilate. But God calls us to a different ambition, to the ambition of Daniel or the ambition of Jesus Christ. We are called to faithfully persevere even in weakness; we are called to be unflinching in trouble. Our chief heroes are not to be those who gain gold medals or win great battles. The real, often unsung, heroes are those who trust God in the face of tragedy; those who give to others when they have feel like they have no strength left to give; those who stay faithful to the promises they have made; those who seek God’s call on their lives till the end. Darius’ example invites us to seek outward power; Daniel’s example calls us to real strength. The two are not the same.
2.The bee-line principle:
Real strength comes from making a bee-line to God
Where then does real strength come from? We are given a hint in this story. The very first thing Daniel does, when he hears about the king’s decree and hears about the lions’ den, is make a bee-line to God. We can only imagine what Daniel was feeling – perhaps anger at the injustice, or terror at what was to come – and he might well have been tempted to go straight to Darius and have it out with him. Yet the first thing Daniel does is to make a bee-line for God. The first thing he does is to pray.
We have no idea what Daniel’s prayer at this time looked like. It might well have been messy. The psalms, which give us an inside-view of spirituality, suggest that prayer in times of trouble often looks very messy. They are full of lament, grief, crying out, anger, frustration: “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?” “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” “If only you, God, would slay the wicked.” The book of Job is also full of this kind of mess. And yet, these psalms and the example of Job and the example of Daniel all have one thing in common: these people took their mess to God. They turned to God in the middle of the mess, not away from him.
Because bible-faith is not about feeling good; it’s about taking our bad feelings to God. Bible-faith is not about understanding everything that happens to us; it’s about taking our lack of understanding to God. Real strength is not about overcoming the mess and the struggle; it’s about turning to God in the mess and with the struggle. Real strength comes from making a bee-line to God.
3. The wearing-a-groove principle:
Real strength comes from wearing-a-groove in
our hearts and lives
Another hint we are given about where real strength comes from is that we are told that “Three times a day Daniel got down on his knees and prayed…just as he had done before.” Daniel had worn a groove in his heart and life, doing the same thing again and again over time, and so when it came to the moment of crisis he simply followed that groove again. Who knows what he was thinking – his head must have been exploding at the news of the king’s decree and the threat of the lions’ den – and yet what he does is to simply do what he had done again and again in the past. Like when you drive home from work without thinking about it; or brush your teeth without realising you did it. Daniel had worn a groove, and in the moment of crisis, he followed this groove automatically.
So much of our lives are about the grooves we follow, the things we do automatically, the ways the habits of our bodies move us without us consciously thinking about it. We’ve got to get away from the idea that we are just thinkers. We picture ourselves so often as a head-on-a-stick. We imagine if we could just get our thinking right – by reading the right book, or going to the right conference, or listening to the right podcast – then our lives would be sorted. Thinking is good and important, of course. But we are bodies also, and the habits – the grooves – of our bodies have a significant say in how we act and react. That’s why it is so hard to change long-standing habits – they are like deep grooves we have worn in our hearts and lives.
Daniel’s example shows us that the grooves we wear now are the grooves we will walk in when trouble comes. We are a bit like oil tankers – our lives have momentum, and we are unable to change direction at a moment’s notice. If we want to be gentle and kind and godly in our 80s, we need to start in that direction now. If we want to be a prayerful supportive spouse, if and when we marry, we need to wear that groove now. If we want to be patient when difficulties come, we need to wear the groove of patience now. Strength comes in trouble from having worn a groove in our lives and hearts. We can’t be all we want to be now, this instant. But we can start along the path; we can start wearing a groove.
And God will be with us in all of this: that is the message of this story. God could have rescued Daniel from the lions’ den in various ways: he could have simply sent the lions to sleep; he could have given them a nasty dose of gastroenteritis. But instead God sent his angel to be with Daniel in the lions’ den, as a sign of his presence. It seems that God wanted Daniel not just to be rescued, but to know that even in the most extreme trouble God was with him. That chimes with the story of the cross also – if we want to see God, if we want to know where he is to be found, the bible points us to a place of trouble: to a victim of injustice, hanging on a Roman cross, with blood streaming down his face, crying out in pain, breathing his last. God is not removed from trouble – he is found in the middle of trouble, in the middle of the lions’ den, in the middle of the cross. God wants us – as Christian vets, as Christian vet nurses, as Christians in secular occupations in a secular world – to know this: when trouble comes in our lives, God is with us in the middle of that. When we find ourselves in the lions’ den, God will meet us there.