no gospel at all

The Galatian Christians had a problem, one I read about this morning in the first part of Paul’s letter to the Galatians. The problem is summarized in Galatians 1:6-7: “I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you to live in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel— which is really no gospel at all. Evidently some people are throwing you into confusion and are trying to pervert the gospel of Christ.”

It seems after Paul planted his churches there, some others came behind him and contradicted him. They didn’t believe in grace, and encouraged the people to try to earn their salvation. As Paul said, that’s not the gospel.

Here’s the uncomfortable part, though: the ones who came preaching a false message were God-followers too. They were Judaizers, a sect of the new church that tried to reconcile the Gospel with all their previous rules, like circumcision. To them, those rules were what made Jews Jewish. They saw this time in Galatia as a mission trip.

That makes me uncomfortable because I wonder how often the leaders of my denomination do that. Do we ever try to make people do things that aren’t part of the Gospel in order to meet our preferences or perceptions? Do I do that?

I’m reminded to be very careful when I express my opinion about church matters. When I want to require more of my church than Jesus does, I create barriers between people and him. That’s the last thing I want, or Jesus would approve of.

build them up

I wonder what Jesus would have done if he’d lived his life for himself. Maybe all the same things, since he was still God while he was here, but a side comment of Paul’s in Romans 15:3 (“For even Christ did not please himself . . . .) makes me think that sometimes he may have wanted one thing but done another. So I wonder if sometimes he wished he could go be with the snooty rich people and have a little luxury, or maybe take some time off from preaching to go sightseeing in Egypt.

Idle speculation, really, because that phrase is connected with this, from Romans 15:1-3: “We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves. Each of us should please our neighbors for their good, to build them up. For even Christ did not please himself . . . .”

Christ put himself last when it came to the push and pull of being in community. It’s as we try to fit into a town or workforce or church or any other group that we find what others are doing impinges on what we would prefer. And in that context we’re told that Jesus looked to other people first.

Paul makes a winning argument here, in his assumption that his readers are as strong as he is. Once he makes the tension about strong, selfless people and weak, self-centered people, of course we all know which group we see ourselves in.

Then why, though, do I so often assert my own desires? Why am I so grumbly about my neighbors’ noisy activities at 9:30 at night? Why am I so short-tempered in lines or in traffic? Could I be one of those weak people that Paul is writing about, not to?

There’s a purpose to Paul’s instruction: that we build our neighbors up. Encourage them. Help them become more than they are, more of what they want, not us. What’s important is not that we have a pleasant life, but that everyone has a chance to grow.

Not a bad instruction for our snarky age, when the most admired skill is the art of the put-down. Christianity is truly counter-cultural. Here’s the revolution we all need, folks.

authority

Citizenship is hard. I want to contribute to society rather than burden it. I also want to carry out my civic responsibility to participate in the national dialogue and shape the direction of my community, my state and my nation. But mostly that just gets me into fights.

One reason that happens, I think, is that few of us want to honor God’s direction as given to us through the Apostle Paul. Paul wrote this, in Romans 13:1 “Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God.”

You see, when Bill Clinton was my commander in chief and implement Don't Ask, Don’t Tell as the military policies toward gays, I didn’t want to go along. I didn’t like President Clinton, so I didn’t feel I should have to follow him. And as a businessman, I had (have) some serious issues with the Affordable Care Act. Now, I’m struggling to embrace our current president.

It can be hard to remember that elections aren’t random, and there isn’t anything that happens on earth that God doesn’t see and control, and use for his purposes. We humans want that to mean that it’s God’s will to have Christian leaders, but even when he was here on earth he took no interest in politics. He left the Roman occupiers and the Jewish Pharisees in place when he ascended.

Paul is clear: the authority of President of the United States comes from God. A stable government and a peaceful society are part of God’s plan, part of common grace, if you will. Government mandates for religion seem not to be. Can it be that God wants us to win souls, not legislate obedience?

Despite my reservations, I think I do OK because I learned as a young officer candidate that you respect the role and the rank even if you wonder about the person. I think that’s what Paul is saying. As hard as Obama was to swallow for the right, and Trump is for the left, God doesn’t want chaos and anarchy. We all submit to a democratic, fairly-elected government.

Due respect to the office of President is an important component of civil order, and civil order is necessary for justice to be available to all. And it’s plain from scripture that God cares a lot about justice.

sober judgment

Sometimes it’s no surprise to me that me and my fellow Americans at this point in time have such trouble being spiritually attuned with God. In fact, sometimes I’m amazed that so many of us are doing as well as we are.

When I was an English major in college, we studied a strong thread in American literature called the Great American Adam. Much of what American authors wrote contained a strong, independent person going to a new place to begin a new world. But American Adams didn’t succumb to sin, they created civilization through their indomitable will and strong character. A key attribute was independence, and the willingness to throw off old ways and be confident in ones own rightness.

I’m not sure about the rest of it, but I think the confidence in our own rightness has survived the intervening 241 years intact.

This morning I read this from Romans 12:3 “For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you.”

To see myself as I truly am is a sort of spiritual gift. It’s human nature, and maybe part of American character, to see myself as better than others, as special. I think my own desires are above rules; I want other people to follow them but I shouldn’t be constrained by them. I’m prepared to resent my neighbors if they don’t conform to my standards. How do I pierce this bubble of my own inflated ego?

I’m not completely sure, but it’s interesting that Paul connects my ability to think of myself with sober judgment to the faith God has distributed to me. This suggest that the closer I walk with God, and the more faith I put in him, the more I am able to see myself clearly, not as the center of the universe but in the context of all of God’s people.

I think that ability more than anything else could revolutionize this country. Another reason to pray for revival.

culmination

I’ve never liked the smell of blood. The odor is strong and unpleasant, and it brings bad memories. I don’t like the way burnt flesh smells either – not just something over cooked on the grill, but the smell when a barn burns down, or worse.

These gruesome thoughts are in my head this morning because I’m reminded of what worship for Old Testament believers was like. Every time they went to church, they started with a sacrifice. Blood had to be shed, and caught in bowls or allowed to run down. Carcasses were burnt. Can you imagine, the noise of bellowing and bleating animals who can smell the death and know it means bad things, along with the horrible odors?

There was a purpose to it all, which was to remind the people in a very visceral way how much God hates sin. What happened to the animals is what sin deserves, but no animal can atone for all of a person’s sin. God’s law of the sacrifice allowed, for a time, a way for people to try to make things right with God.

Not me, though, or you. We live in a wonderfully different reality, after the cross. This morning, in Romans 10:4 I read, “Christ is the culmination of the law so that there may be righteousness for everyone who believes.”

The law of the sacrifice was fulfilled completely and for all time by Jesus’ sacrifice. His blood running down the wood of the cross was such an amazing act of grace that the righteousness it earned is enough for all my sins, and for yours.

This is the great wonder of our faith, the thing that no other faith on earth offers. God loves us completely and forgives us fully because all the death we owe him, death equal to thousands of animals, was made good by one death, that of Jesus. A free gift of grace that frees me forever from guilt. Now, every time God looks at me, instead of my grimy, sinful self he sees the clean white clothing that Christ has dressed me in. He sees Jesus’ righteousness as though it were mine, and he loves me as he loves Jesus. I will never have to pay that price. My trips to church don’t include blood and burnt flesh, nor does my future.

How to respond? There isn’t enough I can do to adequately express my gratitude, and to my shame I don’t do all that I could. But today, I’m resolved to do better.

more than conquerors

“What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:
“‘For your sake we face death all day long;
we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.’
“No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:31-39

This morning, I’m just going to let scripture stand, without comment. One of my favorite passages, one that never fails to comfort and encourage. And certainly one that needs no amplification or explanation.

wages and gifts

One of the things I talk about a lot at work is what to pay people. I sit in on a lot of meetings about what our pay scale should look like. Are we competitive with the regional manufacturers we compete against for workers? What jobs should be worth more than other jobs? How much does night shift get more than day shift?

And then we hire people pretty much weekly. We decide whether to hire them at our starting wage, or whether maybe their experience or qualifications justify a higher rate. Sometimes neither is true but we need them, and they have other options that pay more.

What are we worth? What do we deserve? Paul has a discouraging answer, in Romans 6:23: “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

If, as at work, I deserve what my actions are worth, then hell should be in my future. I’m a sinner, and much as I want to, I can’t seem to shake it. On the spiritual pay scale, that means my pay is death.

But the other thing I get to do a lot at work is give stuff away. We give bonuses, and have a company incentive plan. I approve rewards for good work – things like gift cards and jackets and nights away. Those are a lot more fun, even if numerically they’re considerably smaller.

That’s reversed in the second half of Paul’s verse above. God has a gift for me that’s breath-taking in significance: eternal life. In God’s pay structure, wages are a big negative but the bonus plan is heavenly. And the bonuses come courtesy of Jesus, whose spiritual bank account with God is so high he couldn’t possibly spend it all, not on me or all of humanity.

Wages are what I deserve. This gift is what God chooses to give me. I’m immensely grateful once again for his grace.

in hope believing

It’s hard to go on when you can’t see how things will possibly turn out well. But that’s as good a definition of faith as any.

Paul uses that definition when he discusses Abraham in Romans 4:18: “Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, ‘So shall your offspring be.’”

With no discernible reason at all Abraham chose to believe God’s promise. In his case, God promised children. Abraham looked down at his aging body and watched his beautiful wife fade as well, until it wasn't naturally possible for the promised son to come. Yet, in his own perfect time, God gave them Isaac.

There are a lot of discouraging, even daunting things in life. The reality of violent people who wouldn’t blink at harming or even killing me is one. A country spiraling into post-Christianity is another. The true frailty of physical and mental health, my inability to successfully control my sinful human nature, the fact that even my best relationships are hard work – all of these things can sap my hope.

“Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed.” That’s why he’s a hero of the faith, and an excellent role model. God is on his throne and nothing in this world is out of his control. And he has promised to work all things together for good for those who love him. What more assurance do I need?

introductions

I introduce myself in a variety of ways. Sometimes it’s professional – I’m Greg Steggerda, Operations Manager at Vogel Paint. Sometimes I’m Dawn’s husband or Amber or Brandon’s dad. Sometimes I’m LTC Gregory A. Steggerda (Ret.).

I don’t think I’ve ever introduced myself the way Paul does to start the book of Romans. In Romans 1:1 he starts this way: “Paul, a servant of Christ Jesus, called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel of God . . . .”

For Paul, being a servant of Jesus was the important thing. Not Roman citizen or tentmaker or former Pharisee. Not the guy who planted all those churches. He was a servant and apostle.

This is a short sentence with a ton of good theology packed into it. Called to be an apostle and set apart for the gospel. That’s what following God is like – he calls us first to a relationship with him and then to work alongside him. And by that calling we are set apart.

That’s temple language. In the Old Testament bronze bowls and tent curtains and linen shifts and first-born animals and Levites were all set apart for God’s service. The words used then were “consecrated” and “holy”, but both of those can be translated as set apart. Like them, once chosen by God Paul belonged to God, he existed for God’s purposes.

Me too, and you, if you believe. We were called to this faith we try to live, so we too are set apart. We need to think of ourselves that way, like Paul does – like it’s the single most important thing about us, the first thing that other people should know.

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.

kindness

This morning, I’m thinking again about God’s goodness. I got on this train of thought reading in Acts. I came to the story of the time some people from Lystra thought Paul and Barnabas were gods because they healed a lame man. The Lystrans were ready to sacrifice bulls to them, but Paul and Barnabas stopped them with these words, from Acts 14:15-17:

“‘Friends, why are you doing this? We too are only human, like you. We are bringing you good news, telling you to turn from these worthless things to the living God, who made the heavens and the earth and the sea and everything in them. In the past, he let all nations go their own way. Yet he has not left himself without testimony: He has shown kindness by giving you rain from heaven and crops in their seasons; he provides you with plenty of food and fills your hearts with joy.’”

I was struck by two things in this passage. First, for a period God let all the nations go their own way. He didn’t send any apostles or prophets to them. His plan was that Jesus would go to the Jews; the Gentiles would get the good news later on.

But even during that period, God couldn’t help loving all his people – that’s the second thing. He still wanted to be kind to them; he showered them with blessings like rain and growth and seasons. He gave them the great gift of joy, which cannot be found apart from God.

This is what we call common grace, when God’s blessing is showered on people who don’t acknowledge him. Some of God’s goodness touches the entire world, because he created it and loves everything he made.

That’s the new thought for today – this realization of how much God loves people who don’t know him yet. God does, and I should too.

worms

It’s easy to think, reading about the struggles of the early church in the book of Acts, that things were sometimes out of control. For every wonderful success story, like God sending the Spirit to the Gentiles, there’s one or maybe two tales of imprisonment or persecution. It seems like those early years were touch-and-go, and the future was by no means certain.

But then I read about a meeting some citizens had with Herod, in Acts 12:21-24 “On the appointed day Herod, wearing his royal robes, sat on his throne and delivered a public address to the people. They shouted, “This is the voice of a god, not of a man.” Immediately, because Herod did not give praise to God, an angel of the Lord struck him down, and he was eaten by worms and died.
“But the word of God continued to spread and flourish.”

It seemed like Herod had all the power, but at the very moment God decided it was time, he died in a pretty gruesome way – eaten by worms. Killed by parasites, because he wouldn’t honor God.

God tolerates a lot from us, I think because he’s a gracious God. But he won’t tolerate everything. As I watch what’s happening, and sometimes am tempted to join Christians who are jumping on the tolerance bandwagon, it’s good to be reminded that God won’t tolerate everything. And people who mistake his patience for unconcern or impotence run the same risk Herod did.

God is in control, and he will not be mocked.

murderous

So often, as I read scripture, I’m struck by the power of God’s grace.

The story of Paul, possibly the most effective missionary ever to bring the Gospel, started like this, in Acts 9:1-2: “Meanwhile, Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples. He went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, so that if he found any there who belonged to the Way, whether men or women, he might take them as prisoners to Jerusalem.”

By the end of Acts 10, this same man is being sought in several cities for evangelizing. His former cohorts, the Jewish religious elite, wanted to kill him. He went from hunter to hunted, as intent on preaching Christ crucified as he had been on stamping out the Christian church.

Amazing grace indeed! God can turn the most darkened soul back to him. He can forgive me and use me to his ends; he can do this with anyone. No one is beyond his reach, or his love

It’s a reason to keep praying for people. And it’s a reason not to judge, but to hope.

stiff-necked

Stephen sure made the Sanhedrin mad. It’s right there in Acts 7:54: “When the members of the Sanhedrin heard this, they were furious and gnashed their teeth at him.” I’m picturing a room full of guys with long beards and white robes, grinding and clicking their teeth and growling like a bunch of dogs. It’s kind of funny, except that it’s the devil’s work which resulted in the death of a martyr.

Of course, it isn’t surprising they were angry. They were trying Stephen, and he turns around and gives them a history lesson, walking them through God’s promises from the very start. And then, this indictment, in verses 51-54: “‘You stiff-necked people! Your hearts and ears are still uncircumcised. You are just like your ancestors: You always resist the Holy Spirit! Was there ever a prophet your ancestors did not persecute? They even killed those who predicted the coming of the Righteous One. And now you have betrayed and murdered him—you who have received the law that was given through angels but have not obeyed it’”

I guess if a prisoner went off on a judge like that nowadays there would be some consequences too, but Stephen was right. His point is the same one Jesus made time after time: the Jewish religious leaders had strayed a long way from serving God, and were now serving their own political agenda.

Stephen would be killed and the church dispersed, which would seem like a victory for the Sanhedrin, but God would not be stopped. Those scattered Christians spread his message everywhere they went, and Christianity spread like wildfire.

It’s reassuring to know that God’s plans can’t be stopped by any man or woman, no matter how powerful. A president or the leader of Planned Parenthood or ISIS or any other example of human power is just another tool for God. Their victories sometimes scare me, but they don’t faze God.

At the same time, I need to remember that God will also brush past any attempt I might make to have my way or further my own agenda in his church. His plans will not be thwarted, but some of mine might have to. Only the things I want that are the same as what God wills have any validity.

freedom

I don’t recall ever hearing of more inapt name that the Synagogue of the Freedmen. Or maybe it was just a colossal case of wishful thinking.

I read about the so-called Freedmen in Acts 6:8-11: “Now Stephen, a man full of God’s grace and power, performed great wonders and signs among the people. Opposition arose, however, from members of the Synagogue of the Freedmen (as it was called)—Jews of Cyrene and Alexandria as well as the provinces of Cilicia and Asia—who began to argue with Stephen. But they could not stand up against the wisdom the Spirit gave him as he spoke.”
“Then they secretly persuaded some men to say, ‘We have heard Stephen speak blasphemous words against Moses and against God.’”

Not only were the Freedmen not free – the chains of the Father of Lies are apparent even down through the ages – it seems they were unable to tolerate anyone else’s freedom. They seem to be one of those groups bent on forcing everyone to conform to their vision of the world.

But they had a problem: they were up against a man, Stephen, who was full of God’s grace and power. He was a good man, who did good things for other people. So their tactic is a not unusual one when bad people can’t find anything to hang on good people. They made something up.

I doubt they realized that in pushing their opposition to Stephen’s good deeds and Good News, they were actually eroding the freedom their name suggests they were after. Satan’s schemes seem to work that way, pulling us from one lie or dirty trick to the next. There’s no satisfaction in pulling it off, just more bitterness.

I’m tempted sometimes to use those methods. Even though I know them to be a snare, even though I know this idea - that getting even will feel good enough to justify the lies – to be a lie itself, sometimes I want to. This morning, I’m reminded that the opposite of freedom waits down that road. True freedom is found only at the cross of Jesus.

Ask

I wonder how often I pray for the wrong thing?

I wonder that because of this story I read this morning in Acts 3:1-6: “One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the time of prayer—at three in the afternoon. Now a man who was lame from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts. When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money. Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, ‘Look at us!’ So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.
“Then Peter said, ‘Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.’”

A lame man asked for coins when he could have healing. He probably did that because he couldn’t even fathom the idea that he could walk again. His highest hopes probably involved getting enough money that he no longer had to beg.

I’m sure my faith is like that sometimes. I ask for things like strength to get through the day or patience for a meeting, or healing for a friend – good things, as far as they go. But what if God has a much greater blessing he can give, like excitement for every moment of my day?

God probably does, and he also probably gives me the much better thing than I asked for a lot of the time. But I still think I might limit my prayers through a lack of belief that God would do an amazing thing for me. I’m a pragmatic Calvinist; if he gets me through today with only an appropriate amount of suffering – we Calvinists require some suffering - that will be enough.

Can I pray with greater faith? If I did, what might happen?

praying

What do you do when you’re one of the original twelve disciples and Jesus leaves you – ascends to heaven right in front of your eyes? What do you do after you left your job to follow him, and did so for several years?

Well, here’s what they did, in Acts 1:14: “They all joined together constantly in prayer, along with the women and Mary the mother of Jesus, and with his brothers.”

Jesus told them to wait in Jerusalem for a special gift, something he would give them to enable his ministry to continue. That gift would come at Pentecost. But meanwhile, they waited. And they prayed.

Not just normal prayers either. They joined together – their prayers were communal. They prayed constantly – their prayers were their first priority, their most important thing. And they prayed along with the woman and Jesus family – their prayers were inclusive.

I think there’s something to learn here, about what a Jesus-following life looks like, and what a good prayer life looks like. Because I think they may be the same thing.

I think Eric and Judy, my brother and sister-in-law, may have some idea what this is like. They’ve served Jesus in some parts of the world where it wasn’t very safe, and where Satan’s opposition was palpable. They lived and worked in situations that made them want to pray a lot – when they left their home, when they started a new task or finished one, when they went someplace new and when they got back home.

I think they had a glimpse of what it felt like to want to cling to the hem of Jesus’ robe, to be where he was and to have him lead. We should all long for the same thing.

A life of communal, constant, inclusive open prayer – read “talks with Jesus” – sounds wonderful. What’s stopping us?