September 7, 2014 Westminster Presbyterian Church Sermons Strong and Getting Stronger at the Broken Places By The Reverend Dr. Richard L. Baker Isaiah 40:26-31; Acts 1:6-17, 21-26 It's always fun to watch the commentators deal with a Bible passage that seems to contradict later church teaching or practice. They can be so clever, so ingenious, so acrobatic in explaining away the "apparent" contradiction that... well, sometimes you re left shaking your head, "I mean that's good, that's impressive, but really...?!?!" Always fun, that is, until you have to preach on the same passage. Then suddenly the commentators gain a certain wisdom, stature, even authority. Take today's passage: did you notice that they cast lots to decide who will become the 12th apostle to replace Judas? Now we don't do that in the Presbyterian church these days at least I hope the Pastor Nominating Committee didn't do that so, don't worry: you're not going to get a call anytime soon saying, "Guess what? Your number came up you re going to serve on session for the next three years." Anyway, the problem comes up with great church figures too. Augustine (warning: this is a product placement ad for my class later this morning), at the dramatic high point of his autobiographical Confessions: he wants to become a Christian, but he can't. He's para-
lyzed; filled with both fear and desire; he's in anguish, spiritual despair: weeping, wailing, and lamenting (the ancient Mediterranean world was an expressive one) "How long, O Lord, How long?" He rushes out into the courtyard, and from over the wall he hears children chanting, "Take up and read. Take up and read" They're probably just mimicking their teacher as they walk home. But for Augustine: A message from God!! He looks around and there! there! under the tree, a scroll with Paul's letter to the Romans. He rushes over, takes it up, shuts his eyes, jabs his finger at it, and the very verse that he points to well, it explains everything, his life is clear, he will follow Christ, he has peace. Augustine is forever changed, the whole history of Christianity, of the world, really... forever changed. And of course, the church later condemns this practice. And rightly so: it's the word of God, not a Ouija Board. But here's Augustine, the great father of the western church, the learned theologian and biblical commentator, revered by Roman Catholics and Protestants alike, here's Augustine... doing this. Theologically, it poses the same problem as the disciples casting lots: It seems to rely on chance, fate, or luck rather than the will of God and our disciplined discernment of it. So let's go to the commentators, shall we? Calvin (that's right, John Calvin, when in trouble go to the top) Calvin well, first poses the question directly: "Was it not very irresponsible of the apostles, and quite out of order, to entrust such an important matter to a lottery?" A tough question. But a tough question when asked in faith I believe, gets an answer, at least eventually. And Calvin gets one: NO, Calvin says, the Holy Spirit was directing everything they did." (And by "everything" Calvin means everything not just the selection of Matthias, but everything that happens in the Book of Acts.) And to prove this point, Calvin notes that the apostles used their reason: they narrowed the field to the two best qualified candidates. And then they acted in faith: they prayed. And then? then they cast lots. And by doing so, Calvin believes, they were guided by the Holy Spirit the whole time. Hence, Matthias, the replacement apostle is chosen not by them, but by God. The use of their reason, their prayers, AND the casting of lots ALL of it, directed by the Holy Spirit. Now before you shake your heads, and say, "REALLY?" let me tell you about Calvin's theory of accommodation. Accommodation: God talks baby-talk to us. See God... and die that s what the Bible says. To experience God directly, or anywhere near directly, would overwhelm us. Like looking directly at the sun would blind us. So God accommodates our feeble vision. God comes to us, speaks to us in ways we can understand, in
terms familiar to us in baby-talk, if you will. Out of love for us: So Paul says in his letter to the Philippians: though he was in the form of God, he did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. he humbled himself, and became obedient to the point of death even death on a cross. That s accommodation... Out of love, for us, in our weakness. And God's accommodation includes God speaking through the casting of lots, or speaking through a Bible verse randomly selected in overwhelming anguish. NOT that those are good practices for us on a regular basis, mind you; but let's not impose our rules (and they can be good rules for us!) on God. God doesn't always stand on ecclesiastical protocol or hermeneutical processes. God is God and thank God for that! But speaking of weaknesses, go back to those apostles, gathered together in that upper room waiting for who knows what next? What makes them think they can discern and do God's will? What makes them think they can respond faithfully to the Holy Spirit? Because let's face it, up to this point, their track record has NOT been good. They have in fact been weak; they have in fact been broken. We know their story know it because Scripture tells it: they cut and run. They betrayed and abandoned him their teacher, their friend, their Messiah. Peter, their leader, Peter their rock, Peter was a rock of Jell-o, denying Jesus three times, not even able to acknowledge him to a servant girl as he stood with her in a courtyard. They were not there when he died, alone, hanging on a cross, himself broken, crying out: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" A tough question, but a tough question, even that toughest of all questions--when asked in faith I believe, gets an answer, at least eventually. And here's the answer: He is risen. He lives. And they have seen him, they have spoken with him, they have touched him. And he has blessed them, and given them a promise and a mission: You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. And so the church is born. They have been weak, they have been broken; but they will no longer be weak, they will no longer be broken. They will be the church. And that is the
work of the Holy Spirit. Back to the title of the book: it's officially called "The Acts of the Apostles," but a more accurate title would be, "The Acts of the Holy Spirit, Leading the Apostles, Way Out in Front of the Apostles, Surprising Them Again and Again and Again, as They Do Their Best to Keep Up." OK: a little long maybe, but more accurate. The Holy Spirit that s how these weak, broken ones become strong. Yes, they have failed, been weak, been broken; but these things do not define them. Oh, those things are part of their story, of course, and Scripture tells that part of their story. But that does not define them. What defines them, their real story, is that, precisely where they have been weak and broken, precisely there, through the Holy Spirit, they are strong and getting stronger. Take Peter, for example. The Gospels tell the story of his denying Jesus. But in Acts, Peter not only acknowledges Jesus, he proclaims him as Lord and Savior. And he does so, to use one of Luke's favorite words, BOLDLY. In Acts, Peter stands up to kings and magistrates, saying, "Go ahead, you can kill me, but you cannot kill the Gospel: He is risen." In Acts, when Peter lifts up his voice, walls come tumbling down sometimes literally. In Acts, to understate the matter, Peter finds his voice. He is strong and getting stronger at his broken places. And it s true for all of them. They are the church. They are strong and getting stronger at the broken places. What can I compare this to? How can I show you this? Borrow an illustration from a great novel. (Warning: this won't be the last time I borrow an illustration from a great novel.) - Fyodor Dostoevsky's, The Brothers Karamazov. Another Russian novelist said, "Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way." And trust me, the Karamazov family is unhappy in its own unique way. But Alyosha, the youngest of the brothers: sweet, faithful, pious, good-hearted Alyosha; 18-years old, a novice in the nearby monastery, under the guidance of his spiritual master, Father Zosima, Alyosha wants nothing more than to live out his life in the monastery devoting himself to God and prayer. But then Father Zosima, on his deathbed no less, tells Alyosha that he must leave the monastery and live in the outside world, and the first thing he must do is help his family through their present crisis (and this is the Karamazov family: there is always a present crisis). And Alyosha tries to help, he really tries but this is the Karamazov family! His efforts are largely ineffective, sometimes comically so. And then, two days later, Father Zosima dies. And it s too complicated to explain but the circumstances of his death are such that it gives unfair advantage to
those who want to cast aspersions on him, his faith, and his life. And they do cast their aspersions. It is the crisis of Alyosha's young life: "My God, my God why...?" But then, late at night, as he's keeping vigil over Father Zosima's body, Alyosha has a vision. He sees Father Zosima alive and whole and well, joyful and quietly laughing, his face all uncovered, his eyes radiant. He's... well, there's no other way to put it, Father Zosima is partying drinking wine at the heavenly wedding banquet. And then, he directs Alyosha's attention to the bridegroom, the risen Lord: I m afraid I don t dare to look, whispers Alyosha. Do not be afraid of him. Awful is his greatness before us, terrible is his loftiness, yet he is boundlessly merciful, he became like us out of love, and he is rejoicing with us, transforming water into wine, that the joy of the guests may not end. He is waiting for new guests, he is ceaselessly calling new guests, now and unto ages of ages. In every human endeavor, there are certain moments - certain moments when time seems to stop, when there seems to be nothing but this moment, this moment in which the beauty and the excellence of this human endeavor are so overwhelmingly present, so real, that heaven and earth seem to merge, and all we can do and we can do it only later, of course is remember that moment for the rest of our lives, and thank God that we were there for it, that we were part of it. Athletes call it being in the zone. I know it happens in music. And it happens in literature, in The Brothers Karamazov, for instance. Right after Alyosha has his vision, when he goes outside: Filled with rapture, Alyosha's soul yearned for freedom, space, vastness. Over him the heavenly dome, full of quiet, shining stars, hung boundlessly. Night, fresh and quiet, almost unstirring, enveloped the earth. The silence of the earth seemed to merge with the silence of the heavens, the mystery of the earth touched the mystery of the stars Alyosha stood gazing and suddenly, as if he had been cut down, threw himself to the earth. He did not know why he was embracing it, he did not try to understand why he longed so irresistibly to kiss it, to kiss all of it, but he was kissing it, weeping, sobbing, and watering it with his tears, and he vowed ecstatically to love the earth and everything in it, to love it unto ages of ages. Now if you're an author, and your hero throws himself on the ground, sooner or later, you gotta get him up again. And of course that will be the culmination of the scene. So how do you think Dostoevsky gets him up? Alyosha got up knowing that God was in his
heaven, and all was right with the world? Nope. Alyosha got up, knowing what to do next? Nope. Here's how Dostoevsky gets him up: He fell to the earth a weak youth and rose up a fighter, steadfast for the rest of his life; he knew it and felt it suddenly, in that very moment of his ecstasy. Never, never in all his life would Alyosha forget that moment. Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint. Like the apostles, Alyosha has a vision of the risen Lord. And like the early church, he gets off the ground, a fighter. And I know, I know: I just opened a whole can of worms, and pretty late in the sermon, to boot. Because of course, through its history and to this day, the church has seemed to do far too much fighting, in-fighting and out-fighting. And that's true. That's part of the church's story. But that does not define the church. What defines the church, the real story, is that precisely where the church has been weak and broken, precisely there, through the work of the Holy Spirit, she is strong and getting stronger. Did you notice that when Alyosha is on the ground, kissing the earth, he vows to love the earth, and everything, everyone, in it. Alyosha will fight, fight for the rest of his life, but he will fight for love, in love, and with love. Dostoevsky says about him "he always loved, and where he loved, he always loved actively." To love rightly, to love actively, as God loves that is the work of the church. What have I ever wanted but to love and be loved? That's Augustine in his Confessions again (and that's another product placement). And every human being who has ever wanted to love and be loved, which is to say, every human being, knows that to love and to be loved, to love and be loved truly, actively and well well, it can be a fight. Sometimes the enemy is out there, but more often, in here. "The good that I want to do, I do not do. But the evil that I do not want to do, that I do. Sin dwells in me; who will save me from this body of death?" That's the Apostle Paul,
of course, in his letter to the Romans. We'll meet Paul later in the Book of Acts, but we already know his story: he was the one who persecuted the early church, the one who persecuted Jesus. We know that because Scripture in the Book of Acts tells that story. But that does not define him. What does define him? On the road to Damascus, Paul too has a vision of the risen Lord - one that knocks him to the ground, one that he will remember for the rest of his life. And Paul too, gets up off the ground - a fighter. He becomes the apostle to the Gentiles for love, in love, and with love. And Paul too, asks a tough question in faith. During a difficult time in his ministry, in relation to the church in Corinth, Paul in anguish cries out, "My God, my God, why?" And he reports God's answer: My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness. Strong and getting stronger at the broken places. Who will save me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord. One last warning: I'm a teacher; I'm going to be preaching a series on the Book of Acts; I give pop quizzes. You ready? The Book of Acts has how many chapters? (a) 2 (b) 15 (c) 28 (d) God only knows. That's right: best answer is (d) God only knows, although, OK, you get full credit for (c) 28. But (d) is the best answer because the book of Acts is still being written. There's a huge number of chapters that didn't get into our Bible, and a huge number of chapters still to be written including ours unto ages of ages. And of course, there will be conflict, hardship, and heartbreak. There was for the early church. For example, Acts tell of a heartbreaking conflict between Peter and Paul that has always baffled scholars and for good reason, I think, because it clearly baffled Peter and Paul but save that for a later sermon. Here's what defines us: we are the Church. We have a promise and a mission: we will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon us; and we will be his witnesses to the ends of the earth unto ages of ages. "The Acts of the Holy Spirit, Leading the Apostles, Way Out in Front of the Apostles, Surprising Them Again and Again and Again, as They Do Their Best to Keep Up." We are part of that story. We are the church. We are strong and getting stronger at the broken places. We at Westminster have a chapter chapters still to be written. The Book of Acts. To Be Continued. Amen.