"Waiting for the Power": A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Church on Acts 1:1-14.

"Waiting for the Power"

Luke 24:44-53; Acts 1:1-14

In churches that follow the liturgical calendar, we’re coming to the end of Eastertide, the season when we focus on celebrating the Resurrection.  The third major festival of the Christian year, the celebration of the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, comes next Sunday.   Before we get to Pentecost, we celebrate the Ascension, and we hear the part of the story that Luke/Acts places between Easter and Pentecost. 

            One part of the story is that Jesus has ascended to glory with God.  The glory of the risen and ascended Christ is good news-- something to celebrate.

            But the other themes in the story invite us to look at the Ascension from a very human perspective, the disciples’ point of view, which is where we stand.   

            Up until now, Jesus has been the chief actor in the gospel drama.      From his birth to his death, it’s Jesus who keeps the story moving. 

In the forty days following the resurrection, the risen Jesus appeared to his followers a number of times and continued to teach them about the kingdom of God. 

            But they were still living under Roman occupation. There were still people who were poor and hungry and marginalized. Things were still not right in the world.  So, when Jesus told his followers to wait in Jerusalem, where they would be baptized by the Holy Spirit, they asked, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom?”

             Jesus answered, “It isn’t for you to know these things. But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses.” Then they saw Jesus lifted up, and a cloud, which the Bible uses as a symbol of God’s presence--lifted Jesus out of their sight.  And now he’s gone from their sight.

When Jesus was carried up into heaven, the reality they were facing was that Jesus was no longer a part of their daily life, in the same way he had been before. 

             

            Now what?  What are Jesus’ followers supposed to do?        It would have been hard not to feel anxious and impatient—just as it can be for us.

            There’s so much bad news in the world-- so much fear and anxiety and hatred. Since earlier this past week, our hearts are heavy with the news of precious lives lost: mostly young concert-goers in Manchester, England and a promising young college graduate in Maryland, stabbed to death by a white supremacist.

            In the 24-hour news cycle, we haven’t been hearing much about refugees in the past few months, but a few days ago we heard that more than 30 perished when an overcrowded boat listed while trying to reach Europe from North Africa, and that most of the bodies recovered were toddlers.

            An 18-year-old former neo-Nazi / white supremacist converted to Islam and murdered two of his white supremacist roommates and told the police he killed them because they didn’t respect his Muslim faith.

            We heard about an attack on a caravan of Coptic Christian pilgrims heading to a monastery in Minya, Egypt that killed 28 people.  Friday two men were killed and another injured when they stepped in to protect 2 women from a man who was shouting ethnic and anti-Muslim slurs at them.  This man, too, turned out to be a white supremacist.

            In our nation’s South, there are conflicts over removing statues that celebrate leaders of the Confederacy. Closer to home, we have a controversy over what place a statue of former Dearborn mayor Orville Hubbard should have.

            Concerns have been raised in local cities about justice and due process in detentions deportations of undocumented immigrants and the impact of current policies on their families.

            In our nation’s capital, politicians are debating matters that include who deserves to have enough to eat and adequate, affordable medical coverage, how we will care for the environment, and much more. The litany of losses and pain and struggle is long.

            Do you want to just shout, “How long, Lord?”  “Is this the time you’re going to make things right in the world?  We want to know what the plan is. We want to know now.

            Lord, is this the time?

            Hear what Jesus says: “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set byfor some time for reflection, whether at home or away. It can be an opportunity for us to renew our sense of gratitude for those who have served their country and for the freedoms we enjoy because of that service and sacrifice. It can also be a time for us to renew our sense of commitment to wohis own authority.”    It is not for us to know all the details of the big plan.

            Christ’s charge to them comes with a promise: “You will be baptized with the Holy Spirit...  You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

            Luke tells us that the disciples worshipped the risen and ascended Christ.  They returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and they were continually in the temple blessing God.

            In the verses following the passage we read in Acts, Luke tells how the disciples returned to Jerusalem and went to the upper room where they were staying, where they and certain women were constantly devoting themselves to prayer.  On the day of Pentecost, disciples were gathered together in one place when the power of the Holy Spirit came upon them from on high. 

            The first disciples were called to wait during times of transition--with trust and hope…with eagerness and expectancy.

            This Memorial Day long weekend will bring a variety of parades and other celebrations and

rking for a world that is more just and peaceful.

           

            When the first disciples couldn’t see where the future would lead them, when they couldn’t see where the future would lead them, they remained focused on the drama of God’s salvation story, and worshiped God with great joy.  Their joyful worship as they waited helped to center themselves in God’s gracious, powerful promises

            Do we believe God can use us to transform the world?   Do we believe that we can do all things, through Christ, who strengthens us?      How many of us want to believe these things?       

            I believe God has the power to work miracles, and that God wants to use us to change people’s lives.  But it is not in God’s nature to coerce us.  We have choices.                

           

            In his book, God’s Politics, which a group of us read together some years ago, Jim Wallis talks about “The Critical Choice:  Hope Versus Cynicism.”[1] 

            Wallis says that one of the big struggles of our times is the fundamental choice between cynicism and hope.  The prophets always begin in judgment, in a social critique of the status quo, but they end in hope—that these realities can and will be changed.  This choice between cynicism and hope is ultimately a spiritual choice—one that has enormous political consequences.  He argues for a better religion--  a prophetic faith—the religion of Jesus and the prophets.

            As Wallis says, cynicism can protect you from seeming foolish to believe that things could and will change.  It protects you from disappointment.  It protects you from insecurity, because now you are free to pursue your own security instead of sacrificing it for a social engagement, if you decide that it won’t work anyway. 

            Ultimately, cynicism protects you from commitment.  If things aren’t really going to change, why try so hard to make a difference?... Why take the risks, make the sacrifices, open yourself to the vulnerabilities?  Cynics are finally free just to look after themselves… and pursue their own agendas.

            According to Wallis, the difference between the cynics and the saints is the presence, power, and possibility of hope.  And that is indeed a spiritual and faith issue.  More than just a moral issue, hope is a spiritual and even a religious choice. 

            I agree with Wallis when he says that hope is not a feeling.  It is a decision.  And the decision for hope is based on what you believe at the deepest levels—what your most basic convictions about the world and what the future holds--  all based on your faith.

            We can choose hope, not as a naive wish, but as a choice, with your eyes wide open to the reality of the world.  I believe this hope is grounded in faith…and nurtured in our worship life.

            The Civil Rights movement in the United States grew out of the African-American church… and then others joined in—people who chose to hope in a society in which there is justice for all. We’re still waiting and hoping for the fulfillment of that dream. 

            During the days of Apartheid in South Africa, Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu used to say, “We are prisoners of hope.”  

            I know I’ve shared this story with you before, but it’s powerful and inspiring.  During Apartheid, the South African Security Police came  into the Cathedral of St. George’s during Tutu’s sermon at an ecumenical service.

            Tutu stopped preaching and just looked at the intruders as they lined the walls of the cathedral, wielding writing pads and tape recorders to record whatever he said   and thereby threatening him with consequences for any bold prophetic utterances.

            They had already arrested Tutu and other church leaders just a few weeks before and kept them in jail for several days to make a statement and a point:  religious leaders who take on leadership roles in the struggle against apartheid would be treated like any other opponents of the Pretoria regime.

            After meeting their eyes with his in a steely gaze, Tutu acknowledged their power, saying, “You are powerful,  very powerful.”  But then he reminded them that he served a higher power greater than their political authority:  “I serve a God who cannot be mocked!”

            Then in an extraordinary challenge to political tyranny, Archbishop Desmond Tutu told the representatives of South African apartheid, “Since you have already lost, I invite you today to come and join the winning side!”  He said it with a smile on his face and enticing warmth in his invitation, but with a clarity and a boldness that took everyone’s breath away. 

            The congregation’s response was electric.  The crowd was literally transformed by the bishop’s challenge to power.  The heavily armed security forces that surrounded the cathedral and greatly outnumbered the band of worshipers.  Yet the congregation was moved—empowered—to literally leap to their feet, shouting the praises of God.            They began dancing.  They danced out of the cathedral to meet the awaiting police and military forces of apartheid, who hardly expected a confrontation with dancing worshipers.  Not knowing what else to do, they backed up to provide the space for the people of faith to dance for freedom in the streets of South Africa.

           

            Some time later, a few days before Nelson Mandela was inaugurated as President of South Africa, Wallis remembers wondering, “Who would have ever believed?  And that’s just the point, he says.  We have to believe.

            I know…   I know…   What we see going on in our nation and in the world seems overwhelming.

            And yet, we are called.  Christ has given us a Great Commission:   You shall be my witnesses.

            We have Christ’s promise:  You will receive power…

             

            Like the first disciples, we have the promises of God to cling to, even in times of sorrow and anxiety.   These promises are ours, even at times when it seems that Christ has vanished and the Holy Spirit is not breathing down our necks or in our lives.^[2][1]  

            So let us cling to God’s promises and rejoice in them. There will be accomplishments and setbacks, joys and sorrows. In the midst of it, we can trust that God is with us, comforting, celebrating with us, accompanying and strengthening us, even when we can’t see it. We can give thanks that God is preparing us to live with less fear and more generosity, preparing us to look out for the rights of others, and to work for a more merciful and just world.

            Thanks be to God!

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[1] Jim Wallis, God’s Politics: Why the Right Gets It Wrong and the Left Doesn’t Get It.”  HarperSanFrancisco, 2006.

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^[1]I am grateful to Marjorie Menaul for this phrase, which really resonated with me.

"Who Are We to Hinder God?" A Sermon from Littlefield Presbyterian Chuch.

"Who Are We to Hinder God?"

Acts 11:1-18; John 13:31-35

If you haven’t read through the whole book of Acts, I encourage you to do so, to get the overall narrative.  Most of the first half of the book of Acts is concerned with the Jerusalem church.  Then there’s a geographical movement in the story, away from Jerusalem, as the gospel spreads.

            In Acts chapter 8, an angel of the Lord sends Philip to a wilderness road where he ends up interpreting the book of Isaiah to the Eunuch.  When they came to some water, the Eunuch asks, “What is to prevent me from being baptized?” According to the religious rules and customs, there was a lot to prevent him being baptized, but nevertheless Philip baptized him.

            Saul has been zealously persecuting the disciples until his life-changing encounters-- with the risen Christ on the road to Damascus and then with Ananias, who laid his hands on Saul and something like scales fell from his eyes, and he was able to see things differently.

            In Acts chapter ten, Luke tells how the Roman centurion Cornelius, who was seeking God, had a vision in which an angel of God told him to send for Simon Peter…and how Peter received a vision that challenged his ideas about what it meant to be a person of faith.

            The church was growing.  But including the Gentiles brought a crisis in the life of the church.

            It’s hard for us to appreciate the intensity of the controversy that’s summarized in the story we just heard.  After all, what’s the big deal about eating pork or other unclean animals?   But to the early church, it was a big deal.   

            Jesus was a Jew...  and his first followers were Jews.  Although Jesus had challenged some of the religious traditions to the point where some in the religious establishment wanted to have him executed-- the early church really hadn’t questioned the authority of the taboos of the ancient purity and holiness laws.             

            According to Jewish tradition, it was unlawful for Jews to enter a Gentile house...  or receive Gentile guests...  or eat with them.  Peter was an observant Jew, and he’d taken these regulations for granted and observed them all his life.             But then he has an experience that challenges his understanding.   He receives some heavenly visions that forbid him from counting as unclean anything that God has made clean.             Peter’s understanding of what it means to live faithfully has been changing.  In the lesson we heard last week from Acts, we heard that Peter stayed in the house of Simon the tanner, who would have been considered ritually unclean because he worked with the carcasses of dead animals.

            The Spirit leads him to Cornelius, and he discovers that God has been working on Cornelius too.  As he shares the good news of peace in Jesus Christ, he sees the Holy Spirit fall upon all who hear the word.      

            Peter says, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit, just as we have?   So he orders them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ...  and he stays with them for a while.  

            Now, the apostles back in Jerusalem and the believers in Judea heard that the Gentiles had also accepted the word of God.  When Peter went up to Jerusalem, the circumcised believers criticized Peter, saying, “Why did you go to uncircumcised men and eat with them?”  

            It seemed very clear to what God required of them.  For many centuries, their religious tradition had taught them that to be a “holy” people means to be separate...   and to have very clear, distinct boundaries between their community and those outside the community. 

            According to the purity codes of their tradition, something was “clean” if it fit wholly and neatly inside particular categories.  For example, in the purity laws in Leviticus 11, the people of Israel are told that they could eat “any animal that has divided hoofs and is cleft-footed and chews the cud.”  Camels and rock badgers and hares and pig didn’t fit into this category, so they were “unclean” and forbidden.^[1]  

            The Levitical laws spelled out in detailed terms that certain things were totally unacceptable in Israelite culture, and therefore an “abomination:” things like eating unclean food...  idolatrous practices...  not keeping the Sabbath…  and magic, to name just a few.          The Holiness Code prohibited a long list of things that included the cross-breeding of animals and the mixing of grain or fibers.  The Code was equally clear that children who curse their parents should be put to death.^[2]

            Those of us who routinely eat ham or multi-grain bread… or wear cotton/polyster fabric blends have a hard time comprehending just how controversial these changes were for the early church. These rules were part of the time-honored religious tradition, and for many faithful people, it was really gut-wrenching to think about breaking them.  Did you hear Peter’s revulsion when he heard God’s command?  “By no means, Lord; for nothing profane or unclean has ever entered my mouth.”

            Yet, in the Acts story, we hear how the church learns from the Spirit and changes.  The early church in Judea comes to accept Gentiles into the faith community.  They realize that they’re going to be in relationship with people they’ve always avoided because they believed them to be unclean.  They decide that the church should minister to them, and they send Paul and Barnabas out to work with the emerging congregations.^[3]

            God had a new vision for the church and what it means to be God’s holy people.  The God who created the world is disrupting the boundaries humans constructed.  The Spirit continued to challenge some of the traditional beliefs and taboos...  as “the word of God grew and multiplied”^[4] and reached to the ends of the earth.

            Through Jesus, God gave us a new commandment:  that we are to love one another, just as Jesus loved us.   Through John, God gave us a vision of a new heaven and earth, and said, “I am making all things new.”

            Before Peter baptized them, God poured out the Holy Spirit upon the Gentiles.  God’s spirit is ahead of us, leading us, and working in and through us, despite whatever dividing walls we may have constructed. This is good news, considering how often we get things wrong, and how often we persist in making distinctions between “us” and “them” based on race, language, gender, sexual orientation, nationality, religion, our fears, and other differences, real and constructed.  

            “The Spirit told me to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us.”[5]   The Spirit counseled Peter to accept what had already been true about God:  God does not show favoritism.

            God does not show favoritism.  To be honest, we might be resistant to that idea.  Haven’t we at some point longed to be the favorite?  “I was Dad’s favorite.”  “Mom loved me best.”  Has that made us feel special?  But God does not show favoritism.  God loves all of God’s children.

            We are living in a time of great change in our society and in the church—a time that a lot of folk experience as scary or confusing.   And yet, I’m becoming more and more convinced that following Jesus isn’t complicated.  Jesus came to came to live among us, full of grace and truth, to show us the way of self-giving love.   

            As Elizabeth Johnson wrote:  “Jesus could not be clearer:  It is not by our theological correctness, not by our moral purity, not by our impressive knowledge that everyone will know that we are his disciples. It is quite simply by our loving acts -- acts of service and sacrifice, acts that point to the love of God for the world made known in Jesus Christ.”[6]

            I agree with Dr. Johnson.  Jesus was very clear what the greatest commandments are, and they’re about love.  It’s clear that we are called to show that we follow Jesus by how we love people.

            Now, it’s clear that we are called to love one another.  But nobody said it would be easy.   Look around you at the people sitting here in the pews.  Do we see any perfect people—people that are always easy to love?  People who are always perfectly loving?  No.  None of us is perfect.   We all have our little quirks...  and warts.  In this community, we have this treasure in earthen vessels.  But the vessels are imperfect and maybe a little cracked in one way or another.  God isn’t finished working on any of us yet. 

            The good news is that God has created each and every one of us in the image of God...  and gifted each of us for some kind of special ministry.  We’re not here to try and make someone else into our image of what we’d like them to be.  We’re called to love one another into being more and more fully the person God created and gifted us to be.                

           

I’ve probably shared this story with you before, but it’s a wise story and bears repeating.[7]

            There was a famous monastery, which had fallen on hard times.  In better times, its many buildings had been filled with young monks...  and its big church resounded with the singing of chant.  But now it was nearly deserted.  People no longer came there to be nourished by prayer.  A handful of old monks shuffled through the cloisters and praised God with heavy hearts, because they could see that their order was dying.

            On the edge of the woods near the monastery, an old rabbi had built a little hut.  He would come there from time to time to fast and pray.  No one ever spoke with him.  But whenever he appeared, the word would be passed from monk to monk:  “The rabbi walks in the woods.”  And for as long as he was there, the monks would feel strengthened by his prayerful presence.

            One day the abbot decided to visit the rabbi, and to open his heart to him. So after the morning Eucharist, he set out through the woods.  As he approached the hut, the abbot saw the rabbi standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched in welcome.  It was as though he had been waiting there for some time.  The two embraced like long-lost brothers.  Then they stepped back and just stood there, smiling at one another with smiles their faces could hardly contain.

            After a while, the rabbi motioned the abbot to enter.  In the middle of the room was a wooden table with the scriptures open on it.  They sat there for a moment in the presence of the book.  Then the rabbi began to cry.  The abbot could not contain himself.  He covered his face with his hands and began to cry, too.  For the first time in his life, he cried his heart out.  The two men sat there like lost children, filling the hut with their sobs and wetting the wood of the table with their tears.

            After the tears had ceased to flow and all was quiet again, the rabbi lifted his head.  “You and your brothers are serving God with heavy hearts,” he said.  “You have come to ask a teaching of me.  I will give you this teaching, but you can only repeat it once.  After that, no one must say it aloud again.”

            The rabbi looked straight at the abbot and said,  “The messiah is among you.”

            For a while, all was silent.  Then the rabbi said,  “Now you must go.”  The abbot left without a word and without ever looking back.

            The next morning, the abbot called the monks together in the chapter room.  He told them he had received a teaching from “the rabbi who walks in the woods” and that this teaching was never again to be spoken aloud.  Then he looked at each of his brothers and said,  “The rabbi said that one of us is the messiah!”

            The monks were startled by this. “What could it mean?” they asked themselves.  “Is brother John the Messiah?  Or Father Matthew?   Brother Thomas?  Am I the messiah?  What could this mean?”

            They were all deeply puzzled by the rabbi’s teaching.  But no one ever mentioned it again.

            As time went by, the monks began to treat one another with a very special reverence.  There was a gentle, whole-hearted, human quality about them now which was hard to describe-- but easy to notice.  They lived with one another as ones who had finally found something.  But they prayed the scriptures together as seekers who were always looking for something.

            Occasional visitors found themselves deeply moved by the life of these monks.  Before long, people were coming from far and wide to be nourished by the prayer life of the monks.  And once again, young men were asking to become part of the community.

           

            In the first few centuries in the life of the Christian church, the faith spread like wildfire, in spite of the fact that professing faith in Jesus Christ could be dangerous.  It was observed that people outside the church would look at the people inside the church and exclaim,  “See how they love one another!”   And they would want to be a part of this community of love. 

            Imagine it!  The people gathered here learning to treat one another with such love that people outside the church notice!  Imagine our reputation spreading:  “Littlefield Presbyterian Church-- that’s that really loving church—the church where everybody loves one another!” 

            Imagine it!

            So be it.

Rev. Fran Hayes, Pastor

Littlefield Presbyterian Church

Dearborn, Michigan

April 24, 2016

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^[1]Lev. 13; 14:33-57.

^[2]Lev. 20:9

^[3]Acts 11:21-26

^[4]Acts 12:14; 16:5; 19:20

[5] Acts 11:12

[6] Elizabeth Johnson, “Commentary on John 13:31-35.”  http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2830

[7] I’m not sure of the source for this particular version of this story.  It appears in slightly different versions in various places.  I think the first time I heard it was years ago in an early edition of M. Scott Peck, The Road Less Traveled (1978).

"Commanded To Love". A sermon preached at Littlefield Presbyterian Church on May 10, 2015. Texts: Acts 10:44-48; John 15:9-17

I recently came across some notes I’d taken from a book a group of us read together in the park some years ago--— Philip Yancey’s What’s So Amazing About Grace?   

There’s a story in the book that continues to trouble me.   Yancey retells a story told by a friend of his who works with the down-and-out in Chicago.

            A prostitute came to him in "wretched straits"--  homeless, sick, addicted to drugs,  unable to buy food for her two-year-old daughter.  Yancy's friend said, "I could hardly bear hearing her sordid story....   I had no idea what to say to this woman.

            He said, “At last I asked if she had ever thought of going to a church for help.  I will never forget the look of pure, naive shock that crossed her face.  "Church!"  she cried.  "Why would I ever go there?  I was already feeling terrible about myself.  They'd just make me feel worse."

            What struck Yancey about that story, he says, is that—according to the gospels-- people much like this prostitute came to Jesus--  not away from him.  The worse a person felt about herself, the more likely she saw Jesus as a refuge. 

            So he asks:  Has the church lost that gift?  Evidently the down-and-out, who flocked to Jesus when he lived on earth, no longer feel welcome among his followers.  What has happened?--  he wonders.

            I've found myself pondering the questions Philip Yancey was asking,   as he to pondered the meaning of grace.

            Yancey quotes author Stephen Brown's observation that a veterinarian can learn a lot about a dog owner he has never met just by observing the dog.  He goes on to ask an important question:  "What does the world learn about God-- by watching us-- his followers?^[1]

            I could really resonate with Yancey  when he observes how--  like fine wine poured into a jug of water--  "Jesus' wondrous message of grace gets diluted in the vessel of the church."^[2]    I think he’s right.   Jesus' gospel of grace has been diluted and distorted by the church     

You've probably heard me say it before:  "Everything we do is witness.  Some of our witness is very positive...   and some of it is very negative witness."

A lot of people have been turned off by people who call themselves Christians…  and some have been wounded by the church.  For some time I’ve been saying that I think the wrestling with the tension between LAW and LOVE in the church is a sign that we may be on the verge of a new kind of Reformation.   I believe that we need to recover a sense of urgency to focus on Jesus’ Great Commandment:  the commandment to love.  When he was asked what was the most important commandment, Jesus said, “Love God.  Love your neighbor as yourself.”

 It sounds simple enough.  But it isn’t easy to LIVE the great commandment.  God’s ways are not our ways. 

In the book of Acts, we have an account of how the early church worked through a crisis.  Who is included in God’s salvation plan?  In chapter ten, Luke tells how the Roman centurion Cornelius, who was seeking God, had a vision in which an angel of God told him to send for Simon Peter… and how Peter had a vision that challenged his ideas about what it means to be a person of faith.

While Peter was still trying to figure out what to make of the vision he had seen of the assortment of unclean animals on a sheet   and the command to not call profane anything that God has made clean, he was led to the house of Cornelius.  There he preaches the gospel  of Jesus Christ, and proclaims  that he now understands that “God shows no partiality.”  In other words, God intends to include people that—left to its own devices—the church wouldn’t include.  That’s the context of the story we heard this morning from Acts.

            The circumcised believers had just witnessed the Holy Spirit falling upon on all who had heard Peter's sermon.  But how could this be?--  they wondered.  The Holy Spirit is being poured out even on the Gentiles?  

            We need to remember that Jesus and his first followers were Jews.  As a faithful Jew, Peter had taken the regulations in the Jewish purity codes for granted and observed them all his life.            But then he has a series of experiences that challenge his understanding. 

            Peter says, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit,  just as we have?   So he orders them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ, and he stays with them for awhile.  

            It would have seemed very clear to some people in the early church what God required of them.  For many centuries, their religious tradition had taught them that to be a “holy” people means to be separate...   and to have very clear, distinct boundaries between their community and those outside the community. 

            And yet, in this story in Acts, we hear how the church was learning from the Holy Spirit and actually changing its policies.  The early church in Judea begins to realize that they’re going to be in relationship with people they’ve always avoided--  and that the church should minister to them.^[3]

            There were still a lot of legalists who kept insisting that the Gentiles had to be circumcised    and observe the Jewish purity laws in order to be followers of the Way.    But God had a new vision for the church.

            So--  what might this story be saying to us today?  What do we see in God’s vision for the church in our time?

            I think we need to be asking questions about how God might be at work in the midst of the struggle.   How do we discern God’s will for the church--  in this time...  in this context?   Can we be open to the leading of the Spirit further into the truth--  even if it means we’ll have to change our minds about some things?

            Like our ancestors in the faith before us, we need to figure out what God’s will is for us in our time.        

           

"Abide in my love,"  Jesus says.  "This is my commandment, that you love one another, as I have loved you.  No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends.  You are my friends if you do what I command you...."

            Could it be that-- in order to be Jesus' friends-- we need to be willing to sacrifice some of the things we've always believed?

            As we seek God’s will for us, we need to study and faithfully interpret the scriptures.  We need to learn how to talk with one another about difficult issues.  We need to create a community of  welcome  and peace and safety where people feel safe to come...  and safe enough to let you know who they are.   We need to be a community where we can all feel safe in sharing our hurts and doubts and struggles and fears...  a community where we can learn and heal and grow together...   a place where people will know we’re Christians by our love.

            We won’t always hear a clear answer that we like--  an answer we’re all going to agree on.   A group of human beings isn’t going to always agree on everything.   So, as we hear God saying, “What God has made clean, do not call profane,”    can we be open to whatever new growing edges God gives us in our life of faith?  Can we find ways to live together in love--  even when we disagree with one another about some things?   Can we love one another even when we disagree with one another about human sexuality… or the church kitchen… or any number of things?  

            As the story unfolds in the New Testament, it tells how the church discovered that God had  “broken down the dividing wall of hostility between Jews and Gentiles”^[4]  and founded a Realm that would cancel exclusionary distinctions between “male and female, Jew and Greek, slave and free”^[5]...    and brought them all together in one Body of Christ.^[6]

            These are not easy times for the church.  But I'm convinced that God is up to something.

            God's love and grace are truly amazing!    So how do we love one another, as Christ has commanded us?  How do we connect with people who are seeking God?  How do we share the good news of God's amazing grace with the people who most need to hear it?

            As we seek to prayerfully discern a clearer vision of what God has planned for us, we can approach the future as a real Pentecost kind of adventure.      

            We need to be praying for answers to questions like "Who needs to hear the gospel of grace and love?"    Who among us?  Who outside these walls?  "What gifts do we have to offer someone who is seeking God?"   "What can we do to reach out to them… and to minister to them?"  Are we prepared to love anyone to whom the Spirit leads us?     

                                     

            I think that--  if we are serious about living as friends of Jesus and being part of the Church of Love--   we will find ways to connect with people who need to be reassured that they are welcome and loved.   We will find ways to minister to them  and with them.  

            If we are serious about being friends of Jesus, we will do what he commands us.  We have been chosen to go and bear fruit--  the fruit of love...  fruit that will last.

            The good news is that Jesus says these things to us so that his joy may be in us and that our joy may be complete!

            Thanks be to God!

            Amen.


The Rev. Fran Hayes
Littlefield Presbyterian Church
Dearborn, Michigan
May 10, 2015

                       

                                                                       

                       

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^[1]Philip Yancey, "What's So Amazing About Grace?   (Zondervan, 1997), p. 14.

^[2]Yancey, p. 29.

^[3]Acts 11:21-26

^[4]Ephesians 2:14-15.

^[5]Galatians 3:28

^[6]Ephesians 3:4-6; 4:1-16.