Wednesday, April 13, 2016

"Ananias" (Third Sunday of Easter)

Acts 9:1-20
1 Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest 2 and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. 3 Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. 4 He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, "Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?" 5 He asked, "Who are you, Lord?" The reply came, "I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. 6 But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do." 7 The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. 8 Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. 9 For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank. 10 Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, "Ananias." He answered, "Here I am, Lord." 11 The Lord said to him, "Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying, 12 and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight." 13 But Ananias answered, "Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; 14 and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name." 15 But the Lord said to him, "Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; 16 I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name." 17 So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, "Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit." 18 And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored. Then he got up and was baptized, 19 and after taking some food, he regained his strength. For several days he was with the disciples in Damascus, 20 and immediately he began to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues, saying, "He is the Son of God."

            I wonder if any of these musicians’ names might ring a bell for you: Mike Palmer, Bruce Bouton, Mark Greenwood, Dave Gant, or how about Jimmy Mattingly? Do any of these names sound familiar to you? It’s a real shame if you’ve never heard of these folks; after all, they have toured the world several times together in the last two decades, playing songs in front of sold-out crowds in theatres and arenas, selling millions of records. Some of you, I know, have seen them live, and most of us have probably seen them on television. and I’d wager that all of us, at one time or another, whether we meant to or not, have heard at least one of their songs. Still nothing? Really? You haven’t heard of Mike Palmer, Bruce Bouton, Mark Greenwood, Dave Gant, or Jimmy Mattingly? Well, I suppose it might help if I included at least one more member of the band (hopefully you have heard of him): Garth Brooks.
            You see, Garth has managed to hold the same band together over most of his career, recording with them, touring with them. It’s a feat that’s rare in the world of musical superstars; most of the time egos and financial negotiations get in the way, and bands break up or musicians attempt to cash in on their collaborative success by attempting to launch solo careers. But the band behind Garth Brooks has stayed together, and one could argue they’re a very big part of why he’s had such a successful, long-lasting career. Mike Palmer playing the drums, Bruce Bouton on steel guitar, Mark Greenwood on bass, Jimmy Mattingly and Dave Gant both playing fiddle—these folks have been the music behind the superstar entertainer that is Garth Brooks, a name recognized around the world, yet a name that might as well be as unrecognizable as any other if it had not been for the long-lasting loyalty of his bandmates, whose names you’ve never heard and will likely forget before the end of this sermon.
            I suppose that could be frustrating to some of us, to always be in the background, to play a supporting role, to be the one whose name isn’t on the ticket, on the marquee in lights. I suppose for some of us, it would be a disappointment to go unrecognized, no one calling our name, no one giving us a plaque, no one asking for our autographs. I reckon it could be downright infuriating for some folks to know that they’d always have to play “second fiddle” to someone else, to always have their name mentioned after someone else’s, to never get to give the speech or hold the prize. The truth, however, is that most of us aren’t those people; we aren’t the ones at the head of the pack, the ones who grow tired of signing autographs or selling records, books, or tickets. Most of us won’t break out into the world to create a global phenomenon; we likely won’t have our names and likenesses printed on billboards or in millions of books the world over. Most of us will simply live our lives here, doing the best we can with what God has given us, and so long as we’re faithful to answer God’s call, we just might change the world more than we realize.
            Just look at the story before us this morning. At first reading it’s the familiar story of Saul’s conversion, that apostolic superstar who went on to be called by his Latin name, Paul, that prolific penman who put ink to paper to write three-quarters of our New Testament, that man who was arguably the most influential person to walk the earth (second only to Jesus).  Yes, at first reading this is Luke’s telling of Saul’s conversion, of his calling on the Damascus Road. However, just like those band members who’ve stood behind Garth for so long (have you already forgotten their names?), behind Paul stands one whose appearance is brief, yet his faithful obedience to Christ is why so many of us can call ourselves Christians today. It is because of him there’s even an Apostle Paul in the first place. His name? Well, you might not remember it if we hadn’t read it this morning already (and it wasn’t printed right there for you in the bulletin): it’s Ananias, whose name means “God is merciful.”[1]
            We’re not told a whole lot about Ananias. In fact, all we’re really given is what Luke has written about him in verse 10: “Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias.” That’s it; there’s not even so much as a “and Ananias was the son of so-and-so, who was the son of so-and-so who lived three doors down from that other guy.” All we’re told about him is that Ananias was a disciple of Jesus (presumably a post-resurrection convert) who lived in Damascus (which may have been a town of refuge for new Christians fleeing from Jerusalem and the intensifying persecution from the Jews there[2]). We can deduce that Ananias was a particularly faithful disciple, for in the second half of verse 10, we read, “The Lord said to [Ananias] in a vision, ‘Ananias.’ He answered, ‘Here I am, Lord.’" There’s no hesitation, no questioning concerning the identity of the one who had called him. Ananias simply said (in the fashion of Samuel and Abraham’s obedient response to God[3]) “Here I am.” He’s a faithful follower of Christ, willing to do anything the Lord may call him to do without hesitation…well, almost anything.
            In verses 11 and 12, “The Lord said to [Ananias], ‘Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying, and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight." Those are pretty detailed instructions from the Lord. Usually, it seems, when God calls someone to do something it’s more obscure, in need of some deciphering, but in this case with Ananias it’s pretty straightforward: “Get up and go [the same command given to Saul], go to Judas’s house on Straight Street, and there you’ll find Saul. Lay your hands on him so he might regain his sight.” Notice, there’s no direct mention here of what plans God has for Saul, no reassurance that once Saul has regained his sight that he won’t arrest Ananias, torture him until he gives up the whereabouts of other believers, or worse yet—stone him. No, the Lord gives Ananias specific instruction to get up and go heal Saul, give him his sight back.
            Can’t you hear the hesitation in Ananias’s voice in verses 13 and 14? "Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name." As if Jesus needed any reminding of who Saul was! Ananias is a bit hesitant; Christ has called him to something uncomfortable, something dangerous, so Ananias responds by saying (essentially), “Uh, are you sure, Lord? Don’t you know who this guy is? He’s not exactly your biggest fan, and you want me to give him his sight back?” If it had been me, I might have presented some argument about how much better it would be to have the chief enemy of the Way blinded, how his impairment would only allow the movement to grow, but as it so often turns out, our ways of understanding tend to fall short of God’s.
            The Lord goes on to tell Ananias of God’s plans for Saul in verses 15 and 16: "Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name." God has other plans for Saul; he’s going to be the Lord’s instrument in bringing the gospel to the far corners of the map. But don’t you think that’d have to ruffle Ananias’s feather, at least a little bit? I mean, why go out of the way to use Saul? Why not call someone already in line with the movement? Why not one of the eleven apostles who were still alive, who had actually walked with Jesus? Seems like they’d be the first in line for such a calling. Or what about a Gentile convert, someone who already knows what it’s like to be Gentile, someone who can speak the language, knows the customs? Why that guy? Why him, the one who (just a few verses ago) was “still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord?” I think Ananias would be in the right to ask such questions of the Lord, to give some voice to the concerns of the community, but that’s not what Ananias does.
            Verse 17 tells us, “So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, ‘Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.’" Ananias obeyed the Lord. He went to Saul, despite his initial hesitations, despite what seemed in every way to be a dangerous mission, Ananias got up, went to Straight Street, found Saul, laid his hands on him, and then… “Brother Saul…” Think about that for just a minute: Ananias had heard about this man, about how he was on his way to Damascus to put an end to the Jesus movement. He no doubt heard about Saul’s involvement with the death of Stephen, yet here he is—not only obeying the Lord’s commands, but calling this venomous enemy of the Way “brother.”
            What’s more, after Saul’s sight is restored, Ananias baptizes him, gives him some food, and then—in what may be the bravest act of all—Ananias brings Saul to church! We’re told in verse 19, “For several days [Saul] was with the disciples in Damascus.” Who do you think had to introduce him?! Can’t you imagine how that went the first time Ananias brought Saul with him to church? Ananias and Saul walk through the door; the folks perk up a bit because they’re excited to see a visitor, so they stroll up to Ananias and his guest, hand stuck out: “Hi. I’m Bartholomew and this is my wife Dorcas. We run the bakery down the road, and those are our two kids over there, Sophia and Cleopas. What’s your name?” I can imagine the folks pulling Ananias aside, perhaps trembling a bit: “You idiot! Don’t you know who that is? And you brought him here?!” Ananias, though, must have won them all over, because Saul stayed for several days and even began proclaiming “Jesus in the synagogues, saying, ‘He is the Son of God.’"
            Saul would go on from Damascus, preaching all over the Roman Empire. He preached to Jews, Gentiles, before powerful, political people. He would go on to write letters to the churches he had started or visited, letters that would become a majority of the Christian New Testament and the foundation for a great deal of Christian theology. He would become known as the Apostle Paul, who had plans to take the gospel as far west as Spain before his final arrest and imprisonment. His image would be sculpted in marble, cast in bronze, illuminated in stained glass, and chiseled in stone in some of the grandest cathedrals in the world. But none of that might have happened had it not been for the faithful obedience of Ananias.
            Without Ananias, Saul may have dismissed his vision and subsequent blindness as a result of a seizure (there’s historical speculation that he might have been epileptic), a bad batch of hummus, a freak lightning strike, or even a trick of the devil. Without Ananias, Saul may not have gone on to become Paul. There may not have been a Gentile mission. The gospel may have stayed cloistered in a small part of the Ancient Near East, and there’d be no stained glass images of the Apostle, because there’d be no cathedral in which to place them. Without the faithfulness of Ananias, we might not have the New Testament, and the Way of Jesus may have struggled on for several generations, but Ananias was faithful. Ananias was obedient to the call of Christ, and even though it seemed dangerous, even though in the end it would be Saul’s name we’d remember, he was faithful.
            You may not be called to be the next Saul of Tarsus, the next Apostle Paul. You may not hear the voice of God call you across the ocean to strange lands and people. You may not be called to write, ponder, or preach on the great mysteries of God and faith in Christ, but like Ananias, we all play a part in the work of God’s kingdom. We are all called by God to the work, and sometimes, that calling may seem uncomfortable, it may seem dangerous, or it may seem small, insignificant, or trivial, but Christ calls us anyway. Who knows? Perhaps the Lord has called you to do something today, something that you may find to be of such small significance or great discomfort that you’ve put it off, ignored it, or flat out said “no.” May the lesson of Ananias be ever before you. May you remember that, while we are all not called to be headliners, to have our names in lights or on the front page, we all play an important role in God’s kingdom, and who knows? Perhaps Christ is calling you to be the Ananias to some Saul today? Amen.



[1] Robert W. Wall, “Acts,” The New Interpreter’s Bible: A Commentary in Twelve Volumes, Volume X. Abingdon Press: Nashville (2002). p.151, note 372.
[2] Richard R. Losch, “Ananias,” All the People in the Bible: An A-Z Guide to the Saints, Scoundrels, and Other Characters in Scripture. Williams B. Eerdmans Publishing Company: Grand Rapids (2008). pp. 33-4.
[3] Wall, p.151.

Tuesday, April 5, 2016

"Then. Now. Always." (Second Sunday of Easter)

Revelation 1:4-8
4 John to the seven churches that are in Asia: Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come, and from the seven spirits who are before his throne, 5 and from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth. To him who loves us and freed us from our sins by his blood, 6 and made us to be a kingdom, priests serving his God and Father, to him be glory and dominion forever and ever. Amen. 7 Look! He is coming with the clouds; every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and on his account all the tribes of the earth will wail. So it is to be. Amen. 8 "I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.

            Mrs. Flowers was one of those kinds of teachers you read about in children’s books. She had a full helmet of wiry, red hair. She had a high, nasally voice, but we all agreed when she laughed it sounded a bit like a goat snorting. She tended to wear stirrup pants (long after they were considered cool, but before they made a fashion comeback), and since this was in the days before every classroom had dry erase markers and white boards, she tended to always have several chalk-dusted imprints of her right hand on her backside. She taught my fifth-period pre-algebra class at Coppenville Junior High (where every seventh grader in the Enterprise City School system went).
            I remember one day in particular in Mrs. Flowers’s class when, after the bell rang and we all settled down, Mrs. Flowers asked, “Can any of you come up to the board and draw a line?” It seemed such an easy request that just about every hand in the class went up. Mrs. Flowers called on one boy towards the front of the class, who got up, walked to the chalkboard, took a piece of chalk from the tray, and then, in one smooth motion from left to right, he swept the chalk across the board about two feet making what appeared to be a fairly straight line. He put the chalk back in the tray, and with a slight air of confidence, he walked back to his desk and sat down (I half expected him to high five the boy sitting next to him!).
            Well, whatever confidence he had in his artistic, algebraic abilities was soon dashed, because Mrs. Flowers gave her goat giggle and walked over to the freshly scratched line and, as she erased it, said, “Wrong. Does someone else think they can draw a line?”
            We were all a bit confused, so it took a second or two before more hands came up. This time Mrs. Flowers called on a girl who walked up to the chalkboard with an expression on her face like she had a secret the rest of us didn’t know and she couldn’t wait to blurt it out. She took a piece of chalk in her hand, and then, standing on her tiptoes, she reached up and drew a straight line from top to bottom. She dropped the chalk in the tray like an M.C. who just won a rap battle and walked back to her desk (I swear I thought I saw her skip).
            Again, however, Mrs. Flowers snorted as she erased the vertical mark from the board. “One more try,” she said, “Who thinks they can draw an actual line for the class?” This time, only a few hands were raised: one or two who actually thought they knew the answer and those who just like the attention of standing in front of the class. Mrs. Flowers called on a boy I was sure had it figured out. He walked to the chalkboard, picked out a sturdy stick of chalk, walked to the far left end of the board, and then he put the chalk right up against the boarder and proceeded to drag the chalk all the way across the board to the other end. He placed the chalk back in the tray, and as he walked back to his desk, we were all holding our breath in anticipation of what Mrs. Flowers was going to say, because surely this was the answer to her trick question. Sadly, though, it wasn’t (and if you know you’re Algebra, you probably already know the answer).
Mrs. Flowers erased the boy’s valiant attempt at answering her riddle. Then, she took her own piece of chalk in her hand and drew a short dash across the board but with what looked like arrow points on both ends. As she wiped the chalk dust off on the back of her pants, she explained to us that every attempt we had made was not a line, but a line segment, for in algebraic terms, a line is infinitely long in both directions and can really only be illustrated in the way she drew it for us. It was the first time I think I ever actually contemplated the idea that something could go on forever.
Sure, in arguments I might have said something like, “’not it’ times infinity,” but I had no idea what I was talking about. To be honest, I’m not sure many of us quite know what we’re talking about when we talk about infinity or forever or eternity. Most of us, I think, can only see, only imagine a segment of the line that is eternity.  We are finite people. We can’t quite fully comprehend the concept of infinity, of eternity. We see things as having a beginning and an ending. Sure, there are really old things, things that last for a really, really long time, but as sure as those things had a beginning, they also have an end. It is how this world seems to work. Perhaps that’s why we struggle so, why we worry about things, why we fight amongst ourselves. We can’t see the reality of things, that what we strive so hard to hold on to is only temporary, that the grief we feel is fleeting in the face of forever, that whatever we think is so pressing, so important, so worth fighting for today, is so small and unimportant in the grand view of eternity. We worship a God who simultaneously created and resides in the eternal, and I don’t know about you, but I have to stop and take that in every once in a while.
I think that’s one of the reasons John in his revelation from Jesus goes out of his way to describe God in such eternal, infinite terms: “Grace to you and peace from him who is and who was and who is to come… to him be glory and dominion forever and ever… ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega,’ says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty.”
This God in Christ isn’t some new creation, some new divinity on the scene of the universe, and God hasn’t disappeared, slipped behind the veil of the cosmos, leaving humanity on a spinning blue marble to figure out how the whole thing works, waiting until a good time for an “end” to stop the whole mess. God is not some fad, some latest thing to come along to provide excuses for things like floods, famines, and fights, nor is God some handy justification for one’s own prejudices, an invisible being whose name can so easily be invoked when seeking to justify the hate and the closed-mindedness of the day. God was, is, and is to come. God was then, is now, and will always be. God is eternal, and that means the fullness of God is truly beyond our knowing, and it can’t help but stretch our minds and humble us a bit to reflect on the eternal reality that is God.
I think about this sometimes whenever I face something new, something strange and uncomfortable, like when the plane touched down in Amsterdam last August. It was the first time I had ever left the country by myself, the first time I had ever been in a place where my language wasn’t the language of the people, where my money was the local currency, where I didn’t know where things were, where I didn’t know anyone. I was supposed to be in this strange place for two weeks, all by myself. I remember when I walked off the plane my heart beating faster and my mind racing with all sorts of questions like “Where do I go now? How do I get out of this airport? Which way to the place I’m staying? How am I going to change money? What if I can’t find my way?” It wasn’t until I stopped, took a deep breath, and remembered something I tell myself often in situations like that: “You’ll get to where you need to be. You’ll do what you need to do, and before you know it, you’ll be back home talking about this as a memory.” It calms me down every time, to think in the big picture, to know this moment, this instance of panic, fear, frustration, joy, disappointment, doubt—to know this moment is just that, a moment, a fleeting fraction of forever.  That always seems to bring me a bit of peace.
I think that’s why John begins this cryptic, often scary-sounding letter with these descriptions of a God who was, is, and is to come, to remind his readers who may be facing the temptations to assimilate into a pagan culture that doesn’t value the teachings of Christ, those who may be even facing persecution at the hands of other, local religions, even those who may be glorying in their own faithfulness, that while these trials, temptations, and glories may seem enormous now, in the scope of eternity they will pass, and what will be left is what has always been—God.
I think that is a truth we need to hear now just as much as those seven churches in Asia Minor needed to hear it then, because I hear the same news you do. I hear the stories about people who’ve been out of work for years, who have all but given up finding a job. I hear the stories about the children who have been rejected by their parents because of who they are. I hear the same stories about violence and fear driven by those who know better. I see the images of young children with guns in their hands, of young mothers holding their dying babies, of crowded, unwashed masses huddling together in an attempt to keep their dignity, and I hear the ignorance that always follows such stories, the excuses that come after such seeing such images. And my heart breaks; my stomach turns; my eyes well up, and my fists clinch.  But the words of Scripture remind me that I worship a Christ “who is and who was and who is to come.”
Then I get a phone call from a friend, who tells me the biopsy showed cancer. I learn that another friend lost a baby at birth. I hear about pink slips and layoffs, another miscarriage, a lousy interview, bounced checks, pressed charges, divorce, foreclosures and repossessions. I listen to another mother tell me about an addicted child while another one drops out of school. There’s another school shooting in the news or another teacher sleeping with a student. Then I wake up one morning unable to breathe through my nose because of the yellow filth that has blanketed the land, and I’m ready to throw in the towel, to scream at the top of my lungs, to run out into my front yard shaking my fist at the sky demanding an answer from God…
But then I remember: "’I am the Alpha and the Omega,’ says the Lord God.” All of those heartbreaking stories, all of that frustrating news, all of the minor annoyances of life that pile it on, day after day, week after week, they all fade to nothing in the light of an eternal God and the truth that that very same God lives in those stories with me. That very same God—who was, is, and is to come—lives in those moments with me, with you, with those newly diagnosed friends, with those outcast children, with those refugees, with those going through all kinds of hell, even hells of their own making—Christ lives with them even in those moments!
Easter, Christ’s resurrection, has shown us that God is not some figure way up “there,” beyond the clouds on some untouchable throne, manipulating humankind with a swirl of his finger, or watching it unwind like the spring in an old clock. No, what Christ’s resurrection and the eternal reality of God have shown us is that (in the words of Clarence Jordan) “[t]he resurrection of Jesus was simply God's unwillingness to take our 'no' for an answer. He raised Jesus, not as an invitation to us to come to heaven when we die, but as a declaration that he himself has now established permanent, eternal residence here on earth. He is standing beside us, strengthening us in this life. The good news of the resurrection of Jesus is not that we shall die and go home to be with him, but that he has risen and comes home with us, bringing all his hungry, naked, thirsty, sick prisoner brothers with him.[1]
In other words, the actual good news of Easter is that Christ has risen in and is still “Emmanuel.” Jesus is still “God with us.” That hasn’t changed! The eternal, Alpha-and-Omega, forever-and-ever God in Christ is still with us! God in Christ is with us in those moments that may seem earth-moving to us, though they may amount to next-to-nothing in the grand scheme of eternity. God in Christ is with us even when we let self get in the way of what the Spirit calls us to, when we strive to hold on to our selfish, comfortable ways because we think they’re somehow “holier” than those ways that have come before or will come after. We worship the eternal God in Christ Jesus, the Holy Spirit, for whom our lives are but a blink, a flash in the pan, a quick breath—and yet that same God is with us still!
Let us find joy in that! May we find comfort in knowing that even when life seems to be going to hell, the God who was, is, and is to come is there with us, knowing we’ll make it through, loving us through it, walking alongside us knowing that there is always something greater to come. May we find courage in knowing that when the way seems dark, when we don’t know what tomorrow holds, we serve the Christ who is the Alpha AND Omega, a Jesus who has been through the grave and out the other side and calls ever forward on a journey he knows will bring us heartache and pain, but a journey that leads towards salvation and life-everlasting. May we find hope in the assurance that the God of creation, the Christ of the cosmos, the Eternal Spirit of God, is far greater than any trouble we may ever have, that God is not an excuse for hate or a scapegoat for injustice, but an ever-living Presence calling us deeper and deeper into a wonderful, mysterious, and life-giving relationship. May we live as if we truly believe in the reality of Easter Sunday, in the Good News that the Eternal God has risen from the grave to prove that that same God dwells with us, even in these fleeting moments we experience on this side of eternity. May we find hope in the God who was then, is now, and always will be. Amen.



[1] I’ve read and shared this quote so many times, yet I am unaware of its origin in Jordan’s works. Here is one place where it can be found, though it is not fully cited: http://www.azquotes.com/quote/750187 (accessed 4/2/2016).