without hindrance

Acts 28:30-31: “For two whole years Paul stayed there in his own rented house and welcomed all who came to see him. He proclaimed the kingdom of God and taught about the Lord Jesus Christ—with all boldness and without hindrance!”

That’s how the book of Acts ends. It’s remarkable, isn’t it? Although under house arrest, Paul could see anyone who would visit, and he continued to evangelize right to the end. And he did it without hindrance – really for the first time in his ministry. Even the Jews in the city who didn’t believe him still left him alone. It’s quite a contrast from all the other Jews in so many other cities who made trouble for him, most notably in Jerusalem.

It saddens me that the biggest enemy of the early church was the very group who, right up until Jesus came, were God’s people. It saddens me that so many couldn’t overcome their skepticism that God would fulfill his promises this way. Preconceived notions are hard to give up, especially when you’ve committed your life to ensuring that everyone else follows them.

I think there’s a reminder for the church here, and for all of us currently in it. It isn’t our place to decide how God will work or who he will include. Jesus brought in lepers and tax collectors and whores. His disciples went to the Samaritans and Gentiles. The cream of Jewish religious society, the ones who dug in and defended themselves, were left behind.

That’s my take-away this morning: if I’m not following God where he’s working, I’m on my own, no matter how much I want to believe I’m doing his will.

on trial for hope

As Paul was making his defense in front of the Roman officials in Syria, his statement was a concise summary of what it was that killed Jesus.

Acts 26:4-7 quotes Paul this way: “The Jewish people all know the way I have lived ever since I was a child, from the beginning of my life in my own country, and also in Jerusalem. They have known me for a long time and can testify, if they are willing, that I conformed to the strictest sect of our religion, living as a Pharisee. And now it is because of my hope in what God has promised our ancestors that I am on trial today. This is the promise our twelve tribes are hoping to see fulfilled as they earnestly serve God day and night.”

Paul’s argument was that he was being persecuted for believing in God. Specifically, for taking the promises of the Old Testament seriously, and for recognizing their fulfillment in Jesus. Literally, Paul says, I’m being tried for my hope and my faith.

The Jews didn’t want Jesus as Messiah. They had a completely different thing in mind, and because he didn’t meet the requirements of their plans, they ignored the prophecies, killed Jesus, and worked fervently to kill the baby church too.

I read in this a warning that my plans may not be for the right things – any human plan can be wrong. Only what God wants is truly good. Only what I do in pursuit of God’s plans is truly good.

greedy and afraid

A captive in Herod’s palace, paraded in front of the governor, Felix, Paul still had the upper hand. I read about it this morning, in Acts 24:24-26:

“Several days later Felix came with his wife Drusilla, who was Jewish. He sent for Paul and listened to him as he spoke about faith in Christ Jesus. As Paul talked about righteousness, self-control and the judgment to come, Felix was afraid and said, ‘That’s enough for now! You may leave. When I find it convenient, I will send for you.’ At the same time he was hoping that Paul would offer him a bribe, so he sent for him frequently and talked with him.”

The English major in me sees Felix as a type, a stand-in for the corruption of power. He shows two characteristics: he’s greedy and he’s afraid. The greed is easy to see and understand. Like many in government, Felix sees his position as a means to make a little extra cash. He wants a bribe.

The fear, though, isn’t quite as obvious. Felix didn’t fear until Paul talked about three things: righteousness, self-control and judgment. Those things are linked. Righteousness is not achieved without self-control, and judgment falls where there is no righteousness.

It seems Felix knows his own lack of self-control and righteousness, otherwise why would the topic make him afraid? Yet, rather than acknowledge it and change, he runs from the topic and continues his self-serving ways, grubbing for that little bit of extra cash.

It’s sad, but not new. People these days react to power the same way. We lose self-control when we see what our power can bring us. Even a little bit of power is a dangerous thing. Why, then, do we all crave it?

prayers

The church is such an amazing thing in this world. When it’s truly as it should be, it’s the opposite of what the world is. In fact, it’s so different as to seem almost other-worldly. Which, of course, it is.

In Acts 21 I read about Paul journeying to Jerusalem. When he gets there, he’s going to be arrested, sent on the Roman governor for trial, and eventually end up in prison in Rome. He has some inkling; in fact, on his way there he stops in Syria for a week to spend time with the disciples there, and they warn him.

And then I read this, in Acts 21:5-6 “When it was time to leave, we left and continued on our way. All of them, including wives and children, accompanied us out of the city, and there on the beach we knelt to pray. After saying goodbye to each other, we went aboard the ship, and they returned home.”

Think of it: Paul’s life is in mortal danger. Jerusalem is not safe for him, but he’s committed to going because that’s where service to God is leading him. So his church holds a prayer meeting, and off he goes.

In the face of political oppression and religious persecution, in the face of all the power necessary to kill him, the church kneels on a beach by the Mediterranean and prays. And that’s enough for them. No passionate condemnations of the Romans or the Jewish church. No campaign to get enough support to leverage his freedom. No attempts to dissuade Paul. Just gentleness and humility and a commitment to follow God.

And to trust him. In the end, prayer will always be more effective than any appeal to human power. The church knows that, and we’re often mocked for it. But if God is for us, who truly can be against us?

Paul’s sea-side prayer hour is a great reminder of what makes the church effective here in this world, and what doesn’t. It’s a reminder I think I need.

persuasive

Dawn and I have frequently discussed the fact that scripture always seems to address what's happening currently. When life changes, I see different things than before.

Right now, I’m struggling with how to be an effective witness in drastically polarized nation. People of no faith and people who claim my faith all have become antagonistic and adversarial, so that it’s difficult to know what to do.

But Paul showed me one possibility in my reading this morning, from Acts 19:3-10: “Paul entered the synagogue and spoke boldly there for three months, arguing persuasively about the kingdom of God. But some of them became obstinate; they refused to believe and publicly maligned the Way. So Paul left them. He took the disciples with him and had discussions daily in the lecture hall of Tyrannus. This went on for two years, so that all the Jews and Greeks who lived in the province of Asia heard the word of the Lord.”

I noticed three things Paul didn’t do. He didn’t go right back at the people who mocked and ridiculed the message he was trying to bring. And he didn’t force his message on them. In fact, he left the synagogue to the opposition and went his way.

But the third thing he didn’t do was he didn’t stop bringing the Gospel. He found a new place, the lecture hall, and worked daily for two years. And I guess there’s a fourth thing he didn’t do: he didn’t lecture or command. He discussed and argued, not in the way we do it now, but in the way arguments are supposed to happen, with an exchange of ideas that wasn’t loud or confrontational, but persuasive.

If Paul were here today, he might say something like, “Greg, we don’t have enough time to fight with people who have made up their minds, and who will make things up to make us look bad. Let’s just move down the road and spend our time with people who seem interested.”

Maybe I’m misreading things, but I’m reminded of the time Jesus sent his disciples out to evangelize, but told them simply to shake off of their feet any dust from a village that didn’t want to hear. In other words, don’t insist, just go on somewhere else.

I’m reminded of something wise I was once told: “Conversations are something you have, not something you win.” Even conversations about Jesus. If the Spirit doesn’t persuade, I never will.

distressed

Acts 17:16. “While Paul was waiting for them in Athens, he was greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols.”

I’ve read this verse many times, but this morning I’m feeling uneasy after reading it again. I’ve been in many parts of many cities that were primarily dedicated to sin. Certain blocks of Bourbon Street in New Orleans, for example, or the Combat Zone in Boston, or lower Fourth in Sioux City before it was rehabilitated. And I know that there are a lot of things that go on in my own town now that are a long way from discipleship. We pursue many idols in America, primary among them sex, power, and appetites.

But I can’t honestly say those experiences distressed me. I was often disgusted, but mostly I just wanted to be away, and I tried to ignore what was going on around me. If I thought about the people involved, I probably considered them to be bad, deserving of whatever happened to them.

It’s shaming now to realize that I should have been greatly distressed, just like Paul. That should be any Christian’s reaction to sin. Not judgment, not ignorance or avoidance, but distress. This is Satan stealing souls. This is evil threatening to triumph over good. These are fathers and mothers and sons and daughters different from me in only one way: they do not yet know the grace of God. Or not different than me at all.

I shouldn’t feel more emotion over being cut off in traffic or losing a wifi connection than I do over the sins of my community. The most tragic, most frustrating, most enraging thing I should ever experience is Satan selling his lies to God’s image-bearers.

Today, I’m repeating a prayer I learned years ago: that I will see people as God sees them, and see sin as he sees it, and hate it like he does.

annoyed

I’ve been a Christian a long time, and have read through the Bible for years, but sometimes I feel as if I don’t understand how God works at all. Some things I read in scripture are puzzling.

I read a story like that this morning, in Acts 16:16-18 “Once when we were going to the place of prayer, we were met by a female slave who had a spirit by which she predicted the future. She earned a great deal of money for her owners by fortune-telling. She followed Paul and the rest of us, shouting, ‘These men are servants of the Most High God, who are telling you the way to be saved.’ She kept this up for many days. Finally Paul became so annoyed that he turned around and said to the spirit, ‘In the name of Jesus Christ I command you to come out of her!’ At that moment the spirit left her.”

Paul is one of the best models of faithful discipleship you can find, but this isn’t how I imagine his ministry to go. How’s this for technique: “You annoying woman, why won’t you stop helping us with our mission? Your continuous validation of our purpose and message has me so frustrated, I’m going to cure you!”

If you said “Paul met an exploited, possessed woman and freed her,” this isn’t what would leap to mind. It was a good work, but Paul sounds short-tempered and snappish, far from the example of the gentle Lamb of God he proclaimed. Yet the spirit left at the name of Jesus all the same.

I’m kind of glad to see Paul this way. Too often that’s the way I serve. I can forget that the purpose of ministry is people, and sometimes the people irritate me by not behaving as I want them to. But I still try to serve, and in the end I think they are blessed. But I’m not, at least to the extent I could have been.

God uses normal, flawed men and women for his work. Even Paul, among the best of us, had his moments. It makes me feel a little better about mine.