One of the great challenges facing Christians today is not persecution—it is invisibility.
That may sound strange. Many Christians are deeply concerned about the direction of our culture. We see hostility toward biblical values, pressure to compromise, and a growing discomfort with anyone who speaks plainly about sin, holiness, obedience, and the exclusive lordship of Jesus Christ. We wonder what we would do if following Christ became truly costly. Would we stand? Would we suffer? Would we remain faithful?
Those are important questions, but Peter presses us toward an even more uncomfortable one. Before we ask whether we would endure suffering for Christ, perhaps we should ask whether anyone would know we belong to Christ well enough for us to suffer as Christians in the first place.
In 1 Peter 4:16, Peter writes, “Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in this matter.” Peter assumes something that ought to make us stop and think. He assumes that the Christians to whom he writes are recognizable. Their faith is visible. Their neighbors know they are Christians. Their employers know they are Christians. Their families know they are Christians. Their enemies can identify them as Christians. They are not secret disciples. They are not blending so quietly into the world that no one could tell the difference. Their lives bear evidence.
That raises the question that ought to follow us through every part of this text: if you were put on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?
Imagine that for a moment. Suppose someone accused you of belonging to Christ. You are brought into court, but you are not allowed to testify. You cannot explain your faith. You cannot tell them what you believe. You cannot point to the day you were baptized. You cannot say, “I go to church.” You cannot tell the court what is in your heart. You plead the fifth, so to speak, and the only thing the court may consider is the evidence of your life. They examine your calendar. They listen to your conversations. They review your priorities. They observe your conduct. They ask your family, coworkers, classmates, neighbors, and friends what they have seen in you. Would there be enough evidence to say, “Yes, without a doubt, this person is a Christian”?
That is the force of Peter’s words. He is not merely asking whether a Christian can endure suffering. He is asking whether the Christian is living in such a way that suffering for Christ would even make sense. Peter’s focus is not the ordinary suffering that comes from living in a broken world. It is not merely sickness, disappointment, financial trouble, grief, or the general hardships of life. Those things are real, and Scripture speaks to them, but Peter is dealing with something more specific. He is speaking of suffering that comes “as a Christian,” suffering that comes because we wear the name of Christ.
Peter says, “Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you.” He does not describe a minor inconvenience or an awkward social moment. He calls it a fiery trial. Then, in verse 14, he explains why that fiery trial comes: “If you are reproached for the name of Christ, blessed are you.” Notice what causes the reproach. It is not politics. It is not personality. It is not social status. It is not merely personal conflict. It is the name of Christ.
That phrase matters. These believers are not suffering because they are difficult people. They are not suffering because they are abrasive, foolish, or meddlesome. They are suffering because their lives are identified with Jesus. Peter says they “partake of Christ’s sufferings.” Have we ever stopped to consider why Christ suffered? Why did men hate Him? Why did they reject Him? Why was His message so offensive that they crucified Him? It was because His life, His words, His holiness, and His claims stood in direct contrast to the world around Him. When Christians truly identify with Christ, they should not be surprised when some of that same opposition comes to them.
Peter says “the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you.” That does not mean Christians walked around with some visible glow, like the old paintings where a halo floats above a saint’s head. It means their lives reflected Christ. They were so clothed with Him, so connected to Him, so identified with Him, that people noticed. When they went to work, people noticed. When they went to the marketplace, people noticed. When they lived among family and neighbors, people noticed. They wore the name of Christ, and the world could see it.
But how? How would people know? It was not because they wore a bracelet, carried a sign, or constantly announced, “I am a Christian.” Their lives gave testimony. At least three kinds of evidence would have stood out.
The first was their worship.
By worship, I do not mean merely the weekly assembly, though faithful assembly certainly matters. Peter’s language is broader than that. In 1 Peter 2:5, he describes Christians as “living stones” being built into a spiritual house, “a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” That is worship language, but it is not confined to one hour in one place. Peter is describing the life of a people whose entire existence has been reordered around God.
The Romans worshipped many gods. Christians worshipped one. The Roman world honored Caesar as lord. Christians confessed Jesus Christ as Lord. The Romans visited temples and offered sacrifices to idols. Christians understood themselves to be God’s spiritual house, a holy priesthood, offering themselves and their lives to God through Jesus Christ. Their worship was not simply something they attended; it was something they embodied.
Their priorities revealed what they worshipped. Their sacrifices revealed what they worshipped. Their use of time revealed what they worshipped. Their willingness to give up what the world prized revealed what they worshipped. Sometimes Christians sacrifice things the world considers valuable, and after a while those things hardly feel like sacrifices anymore because we understand they are nothing compared with Christ. The world may call them pleasures, advantages, opportunities, or freedoms, but the Christian asks a different question: will this help me look like Christ, or will it pull me toward the world?
That kind of worship becomes visible.
So let us bring the question closer. If someone examined your calendar, what would they conclude you worship? If they looked at your priorities, what would they conclude sits at the center of your life? If they looked at the things you refuse to give up, what would they say has your heart? If they looked at the things you willingly sacrifice, what would they conclude is most valuable to you?
Would they conclude that Jesus Christ is Lord of your life? Would they know Christ comes first, not merely because you attend worship on the Lord’s Day, but because the rest of your week is ordered around Him as well? Or have we blended so thoroughly into the culture that no one can tell the difference unless we say something? If we have to wear a sign or announce our Christianity before people can recognize it, perhaps our worship has not yet become as visible as Peter describes.
Their worship identified them, but so did their speech.
Jesus said, “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks” (Matthew 12:34). What comes out of the mouth reveals what fills the heart. If the world fills the heart, worldly speech will come out. If Christ fills the heart, Christ ought to appear in our speech.
This is not only about avoiding corrupt language, though that certainly matters. Some Christians speak in ways that make it hard to believe they are trying to identify with Christ. Sometimes we even soften worldly language just enough to pretend we have not really said what the world says. We use words that sound like the words we know we should not use, trying to get as close to the world as possible without technically crossing the line. But Christian speech goes deeper than avoiding a list of forbidden words. It asks what our words reveal about our hearts.
Peter writes in 1 Peter 3:15 that Christians should always be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks for a reason for the hope that is in them. Many Christians read that verse and feel intimidated because they think Peter is saying every Christian must be ready to answer every possible religious question at any moment. But that is not exactly what Peter says. He says we must be ready to answer for our hope.
Why do you live this way? Why are you willing to suffer? Why will you not compromise? Why do you go against the flow? Why do you speak of forgiveness, eternal life, judgment, repentance, and resurrection? Why do you love people enough to tell them what they may not want to hear?
That is the answer Christians must be ready to give. Our speech should reveal the reason we are willing to suffer for Jesus Christ. It should reveal the hope that enables us to endure pain, loss, ridicule, or sacrifice. Peter says that when Christians speak with meekness, fear, and a good conscience, those who revile their good conduct in Christ are the ones who will be ashamed. They may accuse, mock, or punish Christians, but the evidence of Christian speech and conduct reveals that the Christian is not acting out of hatred. He is speaking because he loves God and loves his neighbor.
So here is another piece of evidence for the courtroom. What if someone listened to your conversations for one week? Not just the conversations at church, but all of them. What if they heard your phone calls, your conversations at work, your words at home, your comments after a long day, your posts and replies online, your jokes, your complaints, your encouragements, your private mutterings, and your public statements? What would they hear?
Would they hear evidence that you belong to Christ? Would they hear gratitude? Would they hear hope? Would they hear faith? Would they hear concern for souls? Would they hear the gospel naturally appearing because Christ naturally occupies your heart? Or would they hear the same bitterness, gossip, profanity, complaining, crudeness, and worldliness that they could hear anywhere else?
I have often thought about Saul of Tarsus in this connection. When Saul persecuted Christians, how did he know who they were? He had to hear them. He had to hear them talk about Jesus. He had to hear them confess that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the living God. He had to listen as they proclaimed the very message he was trying to destroy. Every arrest required evidence, and much of that evidence came from the words of Christians who would not stop speaking about Christ.
What would they hear from us? Would our speech be enough to identify us? Would it sound like the world, or would it sound like someone loyal to Jesus Christ?
Their worship identified them. Their speech identified them. And third, their morality identified them.
Peter says earlier in 1 Peter 4 that the world thinks it strange when Christians no longer run with them “in the same flood of dissipation.” In other words, they think it strange when Christians stop living like the world. Peter says we have spent enough of our past lifetime doing the will of the Gentiles—the will of the world—walking in lewdness, lusts, drunkenness, revelries, drinking parties, and abominable idolatries. Before Christ, that may have described us. But once we belong to Christ, we are called to live differently.
The world noticed Christians because Christians did not participate in the same sins. They did not join the same immoral practices. Their holiness made them visible, and their convictions made them stand out.
Most of the words in Peter’s list are fairly easy to understand, but one deserves special attention: lewdness, or as some translations render it, lasciviousness. The word does not merely describe a sinful act; it describes an attitude that has cast off restraint and shame. It is the spirit that says, “I do not care what God thinks. I do not care what decency requires. I will do what I want, when I want, with whom I want, and no one—not even God—has the right to tell me otherwise.”
That spirit is everywhere in the world. It does not merely sin; it mocks the idea that anyone may call it sin. It refuses correction. It ridicules boundaries. It treats moral restraint as oppression and celebrates the very things God condemns.
This is where the application becomes uncomfortable. Christians sometimes resist moral boundaries almost as quickly as the world does. Someone establishes a guideline intended to promote modesty, purity, restraint, or holiness, and rather than appreciating the concern, people mock the boundary. They act as though lust of the eyes were a joke, as though moral caution were unnecessary, as though those who encourage modesty or restraint are simply trying to oppress others.
But lust is not imaginary. The devil used desire in the garden. He used the lust of the eyes to help bring down David. Solomon, the wise man, was not immune to the pull of desire either. Yet today we can become so confident in our own wisdom that we dismiss the very dangers Scripture warns about.
The world recognizes when a Christian lives differently. It also recognizes when Christians do not. If a Christian dresses, speaks, entertains himself, dates, jokes, drinks, parties, and behaves exactly like the world, the world notices that too. And sometimes the reason is simple: we do not want to stand out. We do not want to look different. We do not want to be identified in that way.
But Peter reminds us that it was precisely their distinctiveness that brought reproach upon those Christians. Their worship was distinct. Their speech was distinct. Their morality was distinct. Their loyalty was distinct. People knew exactly where they stood because their lives testified.
So, when the world looks at your morality, what evidence does it see? Would anyone know, simply by observing your life, that you belong to Christ? Would your choices testify? Would your standards testify? Would your conduct testify? Would your refusal to run with the world testify?
The Christians Peter wrote to did not have a problem being identified. People knew they were Christians by their worship, by their speech, and by their morality.
That brings us to Peter’s second question: should a Christian be ashamed to suffer?
The answer is yes—and no.
Peter writes, “But let none of you suffer as a murderer, a thief, an evildoer, or as a busybody in other people’s matters.” This is where he draws an important contrast. Not all suffering is Christian suffering. Some suffering is the consequence of sin. A murderer suffers because of his crime. A thief suffers because of his theft. An evildoer suffers because of his wrongdoing. A busybody suffers because he inserts himself where he does not belong, always having something to say about matters that are not his concern.
There is nothing honorable about that. A Christian should be ashamed to suffer for those reasons. We should not confuse consequences with persecution. We should not act as though every hardship that comes into our lives is proof that we are being mistreated for righteousness’ sake. Sometimes people suffer because they have done wrong. Sometimes they suffer because they have acted foolishly. Sometimes they suffer because they have been meddlesome, harsh, dishonest, careless, or sinful.
Peter will not allow us to place that kind of suffering beside suffering for Christ.
Then comes verse 16: “Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed.”
That is the heart of the passage.
The word “Christian” appears only three times in the New Testament: Acts 11:26, Acts 26:28, and 1 Peter 4:16. It was likely not first used as a term of endearment. It was a label. Perhaps even a label of ridicule. “You are one of those Christ-followers, aren’t you? One of those Christians.” They could tell by the way these disciples lived, by the way they worshipped, by the way they spoke, by the moral choices they made, and by the fact that they would not compromise even to avoid suffering.
Peter says if suffering comes because you wear the name of Jesus Christ, do not be ashamed of that.
And Peter knew something about shame. He knew what it was like to be ashamed of Jesus. He knew what it was like to deny Christ out of fear. He knew the bitter sorrow that followed. So when Peter tells Christians not to be ashamed, he is not speaking as a man who never faced the temptation. He is speaking as a man who had failed, been restored, and learned that the shame of denying Christ is far worse than the suffering that may come from confessing Him.
But shame does not always look like Peter’s denial. Sometimes the temptation is not to say, “I do not know Him.” Sometimes the temptation is simply to make His impact on our lives invisible. We do not reject Christ outright; we just quiet Him down. We do not deny His words; we just avoid saying them when they might cost us something. We do not abandon Christianity; we simply make it private enough that no one notices.
Perhaps the greatest danger to Christianity today is not persecution. It is Christians making Christ invisible in their lives because they are ashamed.
Jesus warned, “For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words, of him the Son of Man will be ashamed when He comes in His own glory” (Luke 9:26). Many believers have become so blended into the culture that no one would know they belong to Christ unless they announced it. Their worship does not show it. Their speech does not show it. Their morality does not show it. Their priorities do not show it. Their lives provide little evidence.
So what is the opposite of being ashamed?
Peter gives the answer: “Let him glorify God in this matter.”
Notice the contrast. Peter does not say, “Do not be ashamed, but be brave.” He does not say, “Do not be ashamed, but be tough.” He says, “Do not be ashamed, but glorify God.”
Shame hides Christ. Glorifying God displays Christ.
Shame makes Christians invisible. Glorifying God makes Christ visible.
Shame seeks acceptance from the world. Glorifying God seeks approval from God.
How do we glorify God in this matter? By continuing to be Christians. By refusing to compromise. By continuing to order our lives in a worshipful manner. By continuing to speak truth. By continuing to live morally upright lives. By continuing to do good even when doing good costs us something.
After all, if Christians will not live this way, what do we expect from the world? Peter writes that judgment begins at the house of God. Those who know better ought to do better. If Christians live ashamed of Christ instead of unashamed for Christ, why would the world ever think Christianity is any different from the world? And if the righteous one is scarcely saved, where will the ungodly and the sinner appear?
Peter concludes, “Therefore let those who suffer according to the will of God commit their souls to Him in doing good, as to a faithful Creator.” Not ashamed. Not hiding. Not retreating. Faithful to the One who made us, the One who redeemed us, and the One who gave us the name Christian to wear.
This thought connects to the larger journey of abiding faith. Daniel’s three friends showed that abiding faith remains faithful in the fire. Romans 8 reminds us that abiding faith remains confident in the fire, persuaded that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. But 1 Peter 4 adds another dimension. Abiding faith is willing to be identified with Christ even when that identification brings fiery trials.
Why? Because we know something the world does not. Peter says that when Christ’s glory is revealed, we may also be glad with exceeding joy. That is not a minor thought. It is foundational. Christians know that Jesus lived, died, was buried, rose again, and is coming again in glory. The question is: how much glory are we adding to that? How much glory are we giving Christ now by remaining faithful while the world rejects Him?
When the world calls us foolish, backward, narrow, or strange, will we continue to worship Him? Will we continue to speak of Him? Will we continue to order our lives morally according to His will? Will we stand unashamed to wear the name of Christ?
That is what Peter calls us to do.
But the name Christian belongs to those who belong to Christ. Galatians 3:27 says that as many as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. To become a Christian is to put on Christ, to wear His name, to belong to Him. And yes, that means suffering may come. It means compromise is not an option. It means we must change our will from following the world to following the Lord.
Why would anyone do that? Because Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. He is the Lord upon whose name we must call to be saved. Faith in Him becomes the basis of repentance, the turning of our will from the world to God. His authority gives meaning to the baptism He commanded, baptism by which sins are forgiven and by which we are brought into Christ.
So the final question remains: have you put on Christ? And if you have, are you wearing His name without shame?
If you were put on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you? Would your worship testify? Would your speech testify? Would your morality testify? Would your loyalty testify?
The disciple who abides in God is not ashamed to wear the name of Christ. He wears it in a way that glorifies God.
Not Ashamed of the Name
One of the great challenges facing Christians today is not persecution—it is invisibility.
That may sound strange. Many Christians are deeply concerned about the direction of our culture. We see hostility toward biblical values, pressure to compromise, and a growing discomfort with anyone who speaks plainly about sin, holiness, obedience, and the exclusive lordship of Jesus Christ. We wonder what we would do if following Christ became truly costly. Would we stand? Would we suffer? Would we remain faithful?
Those are important questions, but Peter presses us toward an even more uncomfortable one. Before we ask whether we would endure suffering for Christ, perhaps we should ask whether anyone would know we belong to Christ well enough for us to suffer as Christians in the first place.
In 1 Peter 4:16, Peter writes, “Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in this matter.” Peter assumes something that ought to make us stop and think. He assumes that the Christians to whom he writes are recognizable. Their faith is visible. Their neighbors know they are Christians. Their employers know they are Christians. Their families know they are Christians. Their enemies can identify them as Christians. They are not secret disciples. They are not blending so quietly into the world that no one could tell the difference. Their lives bear evidence.
That raises the question that ought to follow us through every part of this text: if you were put on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you?
Imagine that for a moment. Suppose someone accused you of belonging to Christ. You are brought into court, but you are not allowed to testify. You cannot explain your faith. You cannot tell them what you believe. You cannot point to the day you were baptized. You cannot say, “I go to church.” You cannot tell the court what is in your heart. You plead the fifth, so to speak, and the only thing the court may consider is the evidence of your life. They examine your calendar. They listen to your conversations. They review your priorities. They observe your conduct. They ask your family, coworkers, classmates, neighbors, and friends what they have seen in you. Would there be enough evidence to say, “Yes, without a doubt, this person is a Christian”?
That is the force of Peter’s words. He is not merely asking whether a Christian can endure suffering. He is asking whether the Christian is living in such a way that suffering for Christ would even make sense. Peter’s focus is not the ordinary suffering that comes from living in a broken world. It is not merely sickness, disappointment, financial trouble, grief, or the general hardships of life. Those things are real, and Scripture speaks to them, but Peter is dealing with something more specific. He is speaking of suffering that comes “as a Christian,” suffering that comes because we wear the name of Christ.
Peter says, “Beloved, do not think it strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened to you.” He does not describe a minor inconvenience or an awkward social moment. He calls it a fiery trial. Then, in verse 14, he explains why that fiery trial comes: “If you are reproached for the name of Christ, blessed are you.” Notice what causes the reproach. It is not politics. It is not personality. It is not social status. It is not merely personal conflict. It is the name of Christ.
That phrase matters. These believers are not suffering because they are difficult people. They are not suffering because they are abrasive, foolish, or meddlesome. They are suffering because their lives are identified with Jesus. Peter says they “partake of Christ’s sufferings.” Have we ever stopped to consider why Christ suffered? Why did men hate Him? Why did they reject Him? Why was His message so offensive that they crucified Him? It was because His life, His words, His holiness, and His claims stood in direct contrast to the world around Him. When Christians truly identify with Christ, they should not be surprised when some of that same opposition comes to them.
Peter says “the Spirit of glory and of God rests upon you.” That does not mean Christians walked around with some visible glow, like the old paintings where a halo floats above a saint’s head. It means their lives reflected Christ. They were so clothed with Him, so connected to Him, so identified with Him, that people noticed. When they went to work, people noticed. When they went to the marketplace, people noticed. When they lived among family and neighbors, people noticed. They wore the name of Christ, and the world could see it.
But how? How would people know? It was not because they wore a bracelet, carried a sign, or constantly announced, “I am a Christian.” Their lives gave testimony. At least three kinds of evidence would have stood out.
The first was their worship.
By worship, I do not mean merely the weekly assembly, though faithful assembly certainly matters. Peter’s language is broader than that. In 1 Peter 2:5, he describes Christians as “living stones” being built into a spiritual house, “a holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.” That is worship language, but it is not confined to one hour in one place. Peter is describing the life of a people whose entire existence has been reordered around God.
The Romans worshipped many gods. Christians worshipped one. The Roman world honored Caesar as lord. Christians confessed Jesus Christ as Lord. The Romans visited temples and offered sacrifices to idols. Christians understood themselves to be God’s spiritual house, a holy priesthood, offering themselves and their lives to God through Jesus Christ. Their worship was not simply something they attended; it was something they embodied.
Their priorities revealed what they worshipped. Their sacrifices revealed what they worshipped. Their use of time revealed what they worshipped. Their willingness to give up what the world prized revealed what they worshipped. Sometimes Christians sacrifice things the world considers valuable, and after a while those things hardly feel like sacrifices anymore because we understand they are nothing compared with Christ. The world may call them pleasures, advantages, opportunities, or freedoms, but the Christian asks a different question: will this help me look like Christ, or will it pull me toward the world?
That kind of worship becomes visible.
So let us bring the question closer. If someone examined your calendar, what would they conclude you worship? If they looked at your priorities, what would they conclude sits at the center of your life? If they looked at the things you refuse to give up, what would they say has your heart? If they looked at the things you willingly sacrifice, what would they conclude is most valuable to you?
Would they conclude that Jesus Christ is Lord of your life? Would they know Christ comes first, not merely because you attend worship on the Lord’s Day, but because the rest of your week is ordered around Him as well? Or have we blended so thoroughly into the culture that no one can tell the difference unless we say something? If we have to wear a sign or announce our Christianity before people can recognize it, perhaps our worship has not yet become as visible as Peter describes.
Their worship identified them, but so did their speech.
Jesus said, “Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks” (Matthew 12:34). What comes out of the mouth reveals what fills the heart. If the world fills the heart, worldly speech will come out. If Christ fills the heart, Christ ought to appear in our speech.
This is not only about avoiding corrupt language, though that certainly matters. Some Christians speak in ways that make it hard to believe they are trying to identify with Christ. Sometimes we even soften worldly language just enough to pretend we have not really said what the world says. We use words that sound like the words we know we should not use, trying to get as close to the world as possible without technically crossing the line. But Christian speech goes deeper than avoiding a list of forbidden words. It asks what our words reveal about our hearts.
Peter writes in 1 Peter 3:15 that Christians should always be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks for a reason for the hope that is in them. Many Christians read that verse and feel intimidated because they think Peter is saying every Christian must be ready to answer every possible religious question at any moment. But that is not exactly what Peter says. He says we must be ready to answer for our hope.
Why do you live this way? Why are you willing to suffer? Why will you not compromise? Why do you go against the flow? Why do you speak of forgiveness, eternal life, judgment, repentance, and resurrection? Why do you love people enough to tell them what they may not want to hear?
That is the answer Christians must be ready to give. Our speech should reveal the reason we are willing to suffer for Jesus Christ. It should reveal the hope that enables us to endure pain, loss, ridicule, or sacrifice. Peter says that when Christians speak with meekness, fear, and a good conscience, those who revile their good conduct in Christ are the ones who will be ashamed. They may accuse, mock, or punish Christians, but the evidence of Christian speech and conduct reveals that the Christian is not acting out of hatred. He is speaking because he loves God and loves his neighbor.
So here is another piece of evidence for the courtroom. What if someone listened to your conversations for one week? Not just the conversations at church, but all of them. What if they heard your phone calls, your conversations at work, your words at home, your comments after a long day, your posts and replies online, your jokes, your complaints, your encouragements, your private mutterings, and your public statements? What would they hear?
Would they hear evidence that you belong to Christ? Would they hear gratitude? Would they hear hope? Would they hear faith? Would they hear concern for souls? Would they hear the gospel naturally appearing because Christ naturally occupies your heart? Or would they hear the same bitterness, gossip, profanity, complaining, crudeness, and worldliness that they could hear anywhere else?
I have often thought about Saul of Tarsus in this connection. When Saul persecuted Christians, how did he know who they were? He had to hear them. He had to hear them talk about Jesus. He had to hear them confess that Jesus was the Christ, the Son of the living God. He had to listen as they proclaimed the very message he was trying to destroy. Every arrest required evidence, and much of that evidence came from the words of Christians who would not stop speaking about Christ.
What would they hear from us? Would our speech be enough to identify us? Would it sound like the world, or would it sound like someone loyal to Jesus Christ?
Their worship identified them. Their speech identified them. And third, their morality identified them.
Peter says earlier in 1 Peter 4 that the world thinks it strange when Christians no longer run with them “in the same flood of dissipation.” In other words, they think it strange when Christians stop living like the world. Peter says we have spent enough of our past lifetime doing the will of the Gentiles—the will of the world—walking in lewdness, lusts, drunkenness, revelries, drinking parties, and abominable idolatries. Before Christ, that may have described us. But once we belong to Christ, we are called to live differently.
The world noticed Christians because Christians did not participate in the same sins. They did not join the same immoral practices. Their holiness made them visible, and their convictions made them stand out.
Most of the words in Peter’s list are fairly easy to understand, but one deserves special attention: lewdness, or as some translations render it, lasciviousness. The word does not merely describe a sinful act; it describes an attitude that has cast off restraint and shame. It is the spirit that says, “I do not care what God thinks. I do not care what decency requires. I will do what I want, when I want, with whom I want, and no one—not even God—has the right to tell me otherwise.”
That spirit is everywhere in the world. It does not merely sin; it mocks the idea that anyone may call it sin. It refuses correction. It ridicules boundaries. It treats moral restraint as oppression and celebrates the very things God condemns.
This is where the application becomes uncomfortable. Christians sometimes resist moral boundaries almost as quickly as the world does. Someone establishes a guideline intended to promote modesty, purity, restraint, or holiness, and rather than appreciating the concern, people mock the boundary. They act as though lust of the eyes were a joke, as though moral caution were unnecessary, as though those who encourage modesty or restraint are simply trying to oppress others.
But lust is not imaginary. The devil used desire in the garden. He used the lust of the eyes to help bring down David. Solomon, the wise man, was not immune to the pull of desire either. Yet today we can become so confident in our own wisdom that we dismiss the very dangers Scripture warns about.
The world recognizes when a Christian lives differently. It also recognizes when Christians do not. If a Christian dresses, speaks, entertains himself, dates, jokes, drinks, parties, and behaves exactly like the world, the world notices that too. And sometimes the reason is simple: we do not want to stand out. We do not want to look different. We do not want to be identified in that way.
But Peter reminds us that it was precisely their distinctiveness that brought reproach upon those Christians. Their worship was distinct. Their speech was distinct. Their morality was distinct. Their loyalty was distinct. People knew exactly where they stood because their lives testified.
So, when the world looks at your morality, what evidence does it see? Would anyone know, simply by observing your life, that you belong to Christ? Would your choices testify? Would your standards testify? Would your conduct testify? Would your refusal to run with the world testify?
The Christians Peter wrote to did not have a problem being identified. People knew they were Christians by their worship, by their speech, and by their morality.
That brings us to Peter’s second question: should a Christian be ashamed to suffer?
The answer is yes—and no.
Peter writes, “But let none of you suffer as a murderer, a thief, an evildoer, or as a busybody in other people’s matters.” This is where he draws an important contrast. Not all suffering is Christian suffering. Some suffering is the consequence of sin. A murderer suffers because of his crime. A thief suffers because of his theft. An evildoer suffers because of his wrongdoing. A busybody suffers because he inserts himself where he does not belong, always having something to say about matters that are not his concern.
There is nothing honorable about that. A Christian should be ashamed to suffer for those reasons. We should not confuse consequences with persecution. We should not act as though every hardship that comes into our lives is proof that we are being mistreated for righteousness’ sake. Sometimes people suffer because they have done wrong. Sometimes they suffer because they have acted foolishly. Sometimes they suffer because they have been meddlesome, harsh, dishonest, careless, or sinful.
Peter will not allow us to place that kind of suffering beside suffering for Christ.
Then comes verse 16: “Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed.”
That is the heart of the passage.
The word “Christian” appears only three times in the New Testament: Acts 11:26, Acts 26:28, and 1 Peter 4:16. It was likely not first used as a term of endearment. It was a label. Perhaps even a label of ridicule. “You are one of those Christ-followers, aren’t you? One of those Christians.” They could tell by the way these disciples lived, by the way they worshipped, by the way they spoke, by the moral choices they made, and by the fact that they would not compromise even to avoid suffering.
Peter says if suffering comes because you wear the name of Jesus Christ, do not be ashamed of that.
And Peter knew something about shame. He knew what it was like to be ashamed of Jesus. He knew what it was like to deny Christ out of fear. He knew the bitter sorrow that followed. So when Peter tells Christians not to be ashamed, he is not speaking as a man who never faced the temptation. He is speaking as a man who had failed, been restored, and learned that the shame of denying Christ is far worse than the suffering that may come from confessing Him.
But shame does not always look like Peter’s denial. Sometimes the temptation is not to say, “I do not know Him.” Sometimes the temptation is simply to make His impact on our lives invisible. We do not reject Christ outright; we just quiet Him down. We do not deny His words; we just avoid saying them when they might cost us something. We do not abandon Christianity; we simply make it private enough that no one notices.
Perhaps the greatest danger to Christianity today is not persecution. It is Christians making Christ invisible in their lives because they are ashamed.
Jesus warned, “For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words, of him the Son of Man will be ashamed when He comes in His own glory” (Luke 9:26). Many believers have become so blended into the culture that no one would know they belong to Christ unless they announced it. Their worship does not show it. Their speech does not show it. Their morality does not show it. Their priorities do not show it. Their lives provide little evidence.
So what is the opposite of being ashamed?
Peter gives the answer: “Let him glorify God in this matter.”
Notice the contrast. Peter does not say, “Do not be ashamed, but be brave.” He does not say, “Do not be ashamed, but be tough.” He says, “Do not be ashamed, but glorify God.”
Shame hides Christ. Glorifying God displays Christ.
Shame makes Christians invisible. Glorifying God makes Christ visible.
Shame seeks acceptance from the world. Glorifying God seeks approval from God.
How do we glorify God in this matter? By continuing to be Christians. By refusing to compromise. By continuing to order our lives in a worshipful manner. By continuing to speak truth. By continuing to live morally upright lives. By continuing to do good even when doing good costs us something.
After all, if Christians will not live this way, what do we expect from the world? Peter writes that judgment begins at the house of God. Those who know better ought to do better. If Christians live ashamed of Christ instead of unashamed for Christ, why would the world ever think Christianity is any different from the world? And if the righteous one is scarcely saved, where will the ungodly and the sinner appear?
Peter concludes, “Therefore let those who suffer according to the will of God commit their souls to Him in doing good, as to a faithful Creator.” Not ashamed. Not hiding. Not retreating. Faithful to the One who made us, the One who redeemed us, and the One who gave us the name Christian to wear.
This thought connects to the larger journey of abiding faith. Daniel’s three friends showed that abiding faith remains faithful in the fire. Romans 8 reminds us that abiding faith remains confident in the fire, persuaded that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. But 1 Peter 4 adds another dimension. Abiding faith is willing to be identified with Christ even when that identification brings fiery trials.
Why? Because we know something the world does not. Peter says that when Christ’s glory is revealed, we may also be glad with exceeding joy. That is not a minor thought. It is foundational. Christians know that Jesus lived, died, was buried, rose again, and is coming again in glory. The question is: how much glory are we adding to that? How much glory are we giving Christ now by remaining faithful while the world rejects Him?
When the world calls us foolish, backward, narrow, or strange, will we continue to worship Him? Will we continue to speak of Him? Will we continue to order our lives morally according to His will? Will we stand unashamed to wear the name of Christ?
That is what Peter calls us to do.
But the name Christian belongs to those who belong to Christ. Galatians 3:27 says that as many as were baptized into Christ have put on Christ. To become a Christian is to put on Christ, to wear His name, to belong to Him. And yes, that means suffering may come. It means compromise is not an option. It means we must change our will from following the world to following the Lord.
Why would anyone do that? Because Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the living God. He is the Lord upon whose name we must call to be saved. Faith in Him becomes the basis of repentance, the turning of our will from the world to God. His authority gives meaning to the baptism He commanded, baptism by which sins are forgiven and by which we are brought into Christ.
So the final question remains: have you put on Christ? And if you have, are you wearing His name without shame?
If you were put on trial for being a Christian, would there be enough evidence to convict you? Would your worship testify? Would your speech testify? Would your morality testify? Would your loyalty testify?
The disciple who abides in God is not ashamed to wear the name of Christ. He wears it in a way that glorifies God.