Monthly Archives: July 2024

Bearing Witness

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The people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of our time in 2023-2024 looking at the story of God’s people as recorded in the New Testament book of Acts.  We engage in this series of messages convinced of the fact that God’s power changes apparently small and nondescript groups of people into a force that will change the world in ways that are reflective of the love and justice of Jesus.  On July 28, we remembered the day that Paul was arrested in Jerusalem.  You can read about it in Acts 21 & 22.

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The last time we saw the Apostle Paul, he’d just arrived in Jerusalem after a long stint in Gentile territory.  We watched him meet with the Apostles, who blessed and authenticated his ministry among people who hadn’t been raised as Jews but came to love Jesus anyway.    When we left him, Paul was heading to the Jewish Temple with a few other folks to participate in a religious ceremony. We noted that while Paul welcomed non-Jews to worship Jesus, there’s never any indication that he stopped practicing the faith of his youth.  Sure, he may frame a few ideas differently now, but he believes his life has credibility and continuity.

Unfortunately, Paul doesn’t last a week in Jerusalem.  You heard what happened – a mob comprised of diehard religious folks were energized by a lie and Paul nearly paid for it with his life.  These folks accused Paul of antisemitism and of corrupting Jewish worship by bringing non-Jews into the Temple.

Now I know, I know that it’s hard to believe in these enlightened days of the 21st century, but here we see a scene from more than 2000 years ago wherein a few folks repeated a lie louder and louder until it got a crowd whipped into a frenzy that was murderous in its intent.  Luke, our chronicler, points out the half-truth that was present, but it seems as though there is no stopping the mob now, and they beat Paul to within an inch of his life.  The entire scene reminds me of that old saying, “a lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is still putting on its shoes”

Fortunately, the Romans had anticipated scenes just such as this unfolding, and they’d built the fortress Antonia adjacent to the Temple.  That guaranteed the presence of heavy force if things threatened to get out of hand.  The tribune leading that group of centurions intervened, not so much because he cared who Paul was, but because as an ambitious officer in Caesar’s Legions, he was not about to let a civil disturbance sully his resume.

The tribune carts Paul off toward the barracks, where it becomes apparent that the soldier has no idea what’s really happening.  When Paul speaks, it’s obvious that this tribune has been operating under an “all you people look alike to me” mentality.

The Fortress Antonia

Using very elegant Greek, Paul demonstrates to the Roman that he’s not the Egyptian terrorist that was reported to have been in the area.  Instead, he says, he’s just a Jewish man embroiled in a religious dispute with other Jews.  The tribune seems to indicate, “Well, if that’s all it is, then there’s no danger to the Empire here” and he permits Paul to address the crowd.

At this point, Paul switches to the local language – either Aramaic or Hebrew – and that quiets the crowd in a hurry.  We didn’t hear the entirety of Paul’s speech this morning, but you heard the beginning, where he said, “I am a Jew…”  He doesn’t say “I was a Jew” or “I used to be Jewish…”  “I am a Jew.”  As we mentioned last week, Paul saw no conflict between his practice and upbringing as a Jewish man and his identity as an Apostle of Jesus Christ.

And while we didn’t read the bulk of Paul’s address to the crowd, you’ve heard it before.  It’s a retelling of that day that Paul met Jesus on the road to Damascus.  We often call this “Paul’s conversion story”, but here it’s plain to see that while that experience fundamentally altered the trajectory of Paul’s life, it did not mean that he forsook his upbringing and culture.  This story is so profoundly meaningful for Paul and the early church that it shows up three times in the book of Acts.  We’ll have a chance to hear it again in chapter 26.

What can we learn from this description of the riot in the Temple?  Why did Luke record it, and how can it inform our lives in 2024?

Let’s start by being attentive to the crowd that turned into a mob.  Presumably, most of those folks were fine people – yet they became energized by a lie.  It was, of course, a convenient lie in that it fit a narrative that seemed attractive to them.  Like many people before and after them, these folks had been conditioned to assume that “we” are the bee’s knees, and that “they” are less than “we” are.  “They” are a threat!  “They” will ruin everything.  Here, the rumor goes, Paul had defiled the community by bringing one of “them” with him into holy space.

This morning it strikes me that the “they” with whom the worshipers in Jerusalem are so furious are Gentiles who would seek to get close to God apart from the Law that had shaped the Jews for centuries.  In their haste to expel those they label as “other”, these good people trample all over the Law they claim to exalt and respect.

I’m thinking specifically of the ninth commandment – one of the top ten.  “You shall not bear false witness against your neighbor”, read one of the tablets mentioned in Exodus 20.  Apparently, one of the most important things that we can do, says God, is to avoid speaking lies about other people.

In the 2000 years since the book of Acts was written, there have been some wonderful attempts by people who follow Jesus to help us understand what the Law says and means.  We Presbyterians have collected many of them in an underutilized resource called The Book of Confessions.  In 1562 some folks in Germany were looking for a new Sunday School curriculum for their kids, and so they wrote what we call today The Heidelberg Catechism.  It’s a series of questions and answers that the kids can repeat and memorize in order to learn to live the Jesus way.

This week I came across a modern translation of question #112 in the Heidelberg Catechism.  It reads,

What is required in the ninth commandment?

I must not give false testimony against anyone, twist no one’s words, not gossip or slander, nor condemn or join in condemning anyone rashly and unheard.

Rather, I must avoid all lying and deceit as the devil’s own works, under penalty of God’s heavy wrath.

In court and everywhere else, I must love the truth, speak and confess it honestly, and do what I can to defend and promote my neighbor’s honor and reputation.

Isn’t that a helpful exploration of that commandment?  I think that we can quickly agree that the mob gathered in Jerusalem on that day so long ago had lost sight of God’s desire for truth, but that’s ancient history at this point.

What about us?  What if we were to use this tool to teach children as a litmus test for what we say, or text, or post, or imply?  Have I joined in condemning someone else rashly?  Do I avoid all lying and deceit – not merely something that might pass my own lips, but in the conversations and culture that surrounds me?  Do I do what I can to promote my neighbor’s honor and reputation?  In my home? At work? On social media?

As we move through these days of national and global upheaval, tensions are high and fear is amplified.  Can we, as the people of God, choose to embrace the truth and reject lies – even those lies that make us feel better about ourselves, our candidates, or our decisions about the ways that we spend our time and money?  Can we, who claim to be motivated by the love of Jesus, commit ourselves to defending and promoting the reputation and honor of our neighbor?  And as we do that, can we remember that Jesus seemed to have a pretty broad definition of the word “neighbor”?

Let’s now consider, briefly, the behavior of the Roman soldier.  Here’s a man who didn’t care one bit about Jewish Laws or Jesus.  Yet he came pretty close to a colossal mistake because he couldn’t be bothered to look past his own prejudices and stereotypes.  He saw what he perceived to be a rabble-rouser, put him in chains, and ordered him shipped off to the brig.

It wasn’t until Paul spoke to him that he realized that Paul was not the Egyptian terrorist he’d assumed him to be, but rather a citizen of the Roman Empire.  Had that tribune allowed Paul – a citizen – to be killed by a Palestinian mob, he’d have suffered some pretty dire consequences.

That leads me to reflect on how quick we are to use shorthand and to talk in generalities and conveniences.  It’s so easy to speak of categories – immigrants, gang-bangers, lib-tards, or fascists!  The danger is that if we think of one another as categories like this, it will be easier for us to dismiss as worthless so many who are made in God’s image.  May God protect us from, and may we resolve to avoid, that casual clumping of people together for the purpose of vilifying and othering them.

Apostle Paul, Anonymous, Italian 18th c.

Finally, let’s spend a few moments thinking about Paul in this situation.  Here he stands, before the soldiers who’ve shackled him and the crowd that has beaten him, and he mounts his defense.  What he offers as his defense is merely a story – the story of his life.  He recounts his early life as a zealous Pharisee, his encounter with Jesus, and his commissioning to the Gentiles.  In his telling, and in his life, we see Paul as a man who loves God far more than he loves his own ideas about God.

Bishop Will Willimon describes this as Paul’s “vocation”, and here we understand that word to mean not merely that which one does for a living, but rather “the way in which we respond to the commissioning of God upon our lives, the things God asks us to do as a part of God’s work in the world.”[1]

Paul’s vocation – like yours and mine – is to follow God to the places where God is active in the world.  And here in Acts 21 and 22, Paul describes how his vocation led him to plenty of places where God surprised Paul – even among the Gentiles!

May we learn from this, and be able to grow in our own willingness to be led into new and different areas of God’s grace.  May we commit ourselves today to this vocation of following Jesus closely, intimately, and expectantly.  If we do so, we will bear witness – true witness – to the power of God that heals hearts, transforms the stranger into the neighbor, and enables us to live as those who are shaped by a passion for God’s love and justice each day.  Thanks be to God for the witness of Paul, for the opportunity we have been given to bear witness as God’s people today.  Amen.

[1]  Interpretation Commentary on the Book of Acts, Westminster/John Knox 1988, p. 168-169.

All Things to All People

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The people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of our time in 2023-2024 looking at the story of God’s people as recorded in the New Testament book of Acts.  We engage in this series of messages convinced of the fact that God’s power changes apparently small and nondescript groups of people into a force that will change the world in ways that are reflective of the love and justice of Jesus.  On July 21, we welcomed a child into the community through the sacrament of baptism as we considered Paul’s presence in Jerusalem (and his commitment to his Jewish heritage). You can read about it in Acts 21:17-26 and find a little more context in I Corinthians 9:19-23.

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As we start our time together this morning, I’d like to invite you to consider how often we talk about journeys as metaphors.  For instance, if you are holding tickets to tomorrow’s Pirates game and hope to see Paul Skenes pitch, you might hint to one of your friends, “You know, I think that kid is on his way to Cooperstown!”  You wouldn’t mean, of course, that he’s got plans to visit Upstate New York – you’re saying that you think he’s playing at a hall-of-fame level.  In the same way, we talk about actors who are heading for Broadway or politicians who have met their Waterloo.  These folks may or may not be traveling to New York City or a small town in Belgium, but we frame their life story by using the journey as a metaphor.

Last week, we discussed how Luke, the author of Acts, chose to frame his Gospel around Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem.  This was not because Jesus and his disciples had an epic road trip planned, but because for Luke, Jerusalem represented the clash between Jesus and the religious and political establishment.  When Luke tells us that Jesus is “on his way to Jerusalem”, that’s the author’s way of indicating that Jesus is anticipating his cross and resurrection.  In the Gospel of Luke, Jerusalem is the intersection of Jesus’ love, human sin, and God’s power.

In Volume II of this work, the book of Acts, we have walked with another protagonist toward Jerusalem.  This time, it’s the Apostle Paul, and he is notcoming to Jerusalem to die.  For Paul, Jerusalem is a stop on the way toward his final destiny… so why does Luke think it’s important for him to go there?

Throughout the book of Acts, Jerusalem has been the center of the Jesus movement.  While people like Philip, Barnabas, and Paul have traveled from there, for the most part, the Apostles have remained.  They represent the authority and presence of Jesus in the world.

St. Paul, Rembrandt van Rijn (1657)

In Acts 21, Paul returns to Jerusalem so that he can receive the endorsement of the Apostles.  In many ways, his travel there is not unlike a presidential candidate’s trip to the party convention – it’s a chance to meet with the faithful, to focus on the core mission, and to indicate solidarity with one another.  That’s a part of what’s happening in our reading today: after a long journey, Paul and his companions arrive in Jerusalem.

Now the Apostles all know what you know – that wherever Paul has been, there has been a commotion.  Riots in Antioch, a stoning in Lystra, imprisonment in Philippi, pushed out of Berea, and that stadium-wide ruckus that happened in Ephesus.  James and the other leaders of the church know what’s coming.  In verses 17-25, they rush to endorse Paul’s ministry.  They authenticate all that he’s done and make sure that people understand that it has the authenticity of Christian faithfulness.

After Paul arrives in town, the Apostles are forced to do something that seems all-too-relatable to us: they must deal with a mob that has been energized by fake news.  Someone has been spreading lies about Paul and his ministry.  They’ve spoken about the fact that Paul has welcomed the gentiles into the faith without insisting that those folks will keep the Jewish Law.  That’s true.  But then the same people are going even further, and alleging that Paul is even encouraging Jewish believers to abandon their heritage and practices.  This is not true at all!  Earlier in Acts, we heard that the Apostles had said that one need not be a Jew to worship Jesus.  But no one, including Paul, ever said that if you wanted to follow Jesus you’d have to give up your Jewishness.

James and the other Apostles come up with a plan: they invite Paul to prove his commitment to remaining in the Jewish tradition by participating in an event at the Temple.  There are four men who’d undertaken an Nazirite vow.  This involved a period of fasting and study, at the end of which they’d shave their heads and burn their hair. It’s a ritual focused on purification and confession.  Often, Jews who had traveled into gentile territory would engage in this rite as a way to re-center themselves in their Jewish identity and affirm their participation in Jewish religion and culture.  This seems like a good idea to Paul, and so he not only participates in this ritual, but pays for it out of his own pocket.

There are some people who have chosen to see Paul as this wonderfully liberal theologian who traveled around the Empire seeking to correct the apparently faulty theology of his more conservative friends.  These folk sometimes talk as though Paul saw it as his mission to drag his peers into a more enlightened church as he taught them to shed their Jewishness.  Yet this passage indicates that was neither his intent nor his practice – here, he holds fast to his Jewish and even Pharisaical identity.

Now, next week we’ll consider how this strategy worked out for Paul as he sought to counter the false narratives that swirled around him, but with the time we have remaining this morning I’d like to look at the way that Paul was able to retain and celebrate his Jewish identity even while he rejoiced in the fact that people who were not like him were also welcomed by this amazing savior.  Let’s do that by looking at Paul’s own words, taken from a letter that he’d written to his friends in the Greek town of Corinth.

In the passage you heard, Paul says that everything that he does is aimed at helping as many people as possible to discover the incredible love of Jesus.  In doing so, he says that he shapes his behavior – but not his message – to suit whatever context he enters.  Scholar Richard Hays puts it this way:

Paul represents himself here as a conciliator, seeking to overcome cultural and ethnic divisions in order to bring people of all sorts into the one community of faith.  In order to do this, he has made himself – a free man – into “a slave to all”… Paul’s slavery to Christ is expressed in the form of submitting himself in various ways to the cultural structures and limitations of the people he hopes to reach with the gospel.[1]

In his letter to the Corinthians, Paul unpacks four examples of this strategy, the first three of which have to do with the relationship between Jews and Gentiles.

“To the Jews, I became like a Jew”, he says.  Of course, he was Jewish, so I believe that this is way of saying that his deepest identity as a follower of Jesus gave him the freedom to behave like a Jew without trusting that such behavior was the most important part of his self.

“To those under the law, I became like a person under the law… and to those not under the law, I became like a person not under the law.”  Again, this reveals that Paul felt free to shape his daily life – what he ate, where he slept, the people with whom he met – according to the contexts in which he found himself.  What grabbed me in a close reading of this text was his fourth example: “To the weak, I became weak”.  Do you hear the subtle change?  There’s a modifier missing here.  The first three all have the same formulation: “To the _____, I became like one of them…”  Each of the previous formulations contain the Greek adverb hos that indicated that Paul acted like those groups.

Yet here in his fourth example, he says simply, “to the weak, I became weak”. In following Jesus, Paul took as his primary expression the lifestyle of the marginalized.  This is an echo of how he began that passage, when he described himself as a slave to everyone.  Paul wasn’t “like” a slave and he wasn’t “like” a weak person.  Instead, he yielded his power and privilege so that anyone around him could see in him the life and love of Jesus.

What Paul offers here is a fantastic example for those who live in polarizing times.  In both Acts and I Corinthians, Paul is clear about who he is – a Jewish man who has fallen in love with Jesus and has given everything to serve him and those whom Jesus loves.  Because Paul is so deeply connected to the Jesus in whom we live and move and have our being, he is able to live generously and openly with people who see things otherwise.

Paul was able to see worth and value in other people, even when they disagreed with him.  Because he was looking more intently at Jesus than at anything or anyone else, he found that many of the things that he thought might separate him from them were able to recede into the background.

Here’s an example of that kind of faithful living: I have a friend who is conservative in just about all the ways we might use that word: theologically, politically, culturally.  He was at a worship service where a woman rose to preach and to celebrate communion – a reality that the church in which he participated did not admit.  To his credit, my friend did not stand up and walk out.  He stayed, and afterwards said, “This is the first time I ever listened to a woman preach.  I learned something today.”

Another friend is, in many ways, the polar opposite.  They are young, queer, and “liberal” in all the ways you might think.  They were invited to a friend’s congregation – a conservative church – and I asked how things went.  “Well”, they said, “there sure was a lot of gendered language that sounded funny to me, but I could also see the spirit of love in the people who were there.”

Both of these folks reminded me of a story that retired Methodist Bishop Will Willimon told me.  He was the visiting preacher in a congregation, and afterwards a woman stood in the greeting line.  She said something like, “I thought the message was just fine, but I have to tell you that I didn’t care for that second hymn one bit!”  Willimon’s response was priceless: “Well, isn’t it fortunate that we didn’t gather to worship you this morning!”

If we can join Paul in keeping our hearts centered on serving the world that God loves and in keeping our eyes focused on the Jesus that we are following, perhaps we can grow in our ability to be less likely to alienate others.

If we can follow Paul’s example and claim as our deepest allegiance our identity in Jesus, then we, too, might be less susceptible to the adverse effects of polarization in our culture.  Before we were brown or pink or white or black, we were made in the Divine Image.  Before we knew about the United States or China or South Sudan, we were citizens of the Kingdom of God.

Do we have differences?  Yes, of course we do.  Some of them are significant.  Yet can we aspire to tell the truth as we see it in a spirit of openness and generosity?  Can we remember that the truth is always a gift, and never a weapon?  Can our first word toward our families, our friends, and even our adversaries be one of love?

If we can do this, we will think twice before we condemn those who are not like us.  We’ll pause, and hopefully be able to stop before we post memes that belittle or dehumanize anyone.

Today we are privileged to welcome young Beckham into the family of faith. Beloved, let us pay attention to what we are celebrating today: that before he ever was carried into this room, this child was already known, loved, and shaped by the hand of God.  In the years to come, Lord willing, we will see the emergence of the things that make Beckham Beckham.  His personality and his giftedness will emerge, along with his quirks and foibles.  Yet today we claim that he is already called, loved, forgiven, and given to the world.  Today we celebrate that Beckham, too, is invited to share in God’s healing of the world.  So are his parents.  So are you.  So am I.  So is every single face that you will see on this day or in this lifetime.

Thanks be to God who invites us to daily anchor our selves in God’s self! May we live generously and openly in gratitude for the love we have received in Jesus. Amen.

[1] Hays, Richard B., Interpretation Commentary on I Corinthians, (Westminster/John Knox, 1997), p. 153

Impossible Faith

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The people at The First U.P. Church of Crafton Heights are spending much of our time in 2023-2024 looking at the story of God’s people as recorded in the New Testament book of Acts.  We engage in this series of messages convinced of the fact that God’s power changes apparently small and nondescript groups of people into a force that will change the world in ways that are reflective of the love and justice of Jesus.  On July 14, we watched as a couple of very, very improbable events unfolded around the corners of the young Christian community.  You can read about it in Acts 21:1-16 and find a little more context in Luke 18:27-30.

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If I were describing a book to you, but I couldn’t remember the title, and I said, “Oh, it’s a series of books about an orphan kid who finds himself immersed in a world of magic.  In pretty much every book there’s a situation where this kid has the opportunity to do something that is either really brave or incredibly stupid, and everyone around him says, ‘No, don’t do it’ but of course he does.  He winds up defeating the evil wizard in the end…”  You’d know that I was talking about Harry Potter, right?

Or if I were to say, “A group of strangers meets somewhere a little exotic – a fancy train, or a castle, or somewhere, and one by one they are murdered.  Things look pretty hairy until a funny little Belgian detective shows up to sort things out and solve the crime” you know that I’d be referring to any number of Agatha Christie stories, right?

Many successful authors – Tom Clancy, David Baldacci, Danielle Steele – have a theme or a plot device that they’ve found effective, and they employ those tools in several books.

Now let me ask if anyone remembers a few years ago when we were reading through Luke’s Gospel.  We talked about a hinge-point in that story where Jesus is transfigured, and then the narrator says that Jesus “set his face toward Jerusalem.”  The rest of the Gospel depicts a shift in Jesus’ ministry as he moves away from miracle-working, crowd-raising events and we see him getting prepared for a confrontation with the religious and political establishment that will eventually cost him his life.

Like many of our favorite writers, Luke reuses this plotting device in volume 2, The Book of Acts.  This time, it’s Paul who is proclaiming news about God’s activity in and love for the world to anyone who will listen.  He reaches the heart of intellectual society in Athens and then begins a long trek, first to Jerusalem and ultimately to Rome.  This journey, too, will result in a clash with the powers that be and will lead to his execution by the Empire.

This morning, we re-engage with Paul as he makes his way eastward.  If we’re not careful, all of these places and names can blur together and cause us to miss some important things.  Luke is a stickler for detail, and he wants to make sure we know where things happened.  But today I want to look beyond the geography and key in on a couple of details here that have really gotten me thinking in recent weeks about Paul’s journey toward his destiny.

Look with me at verse 8, where we learn that Paul and his companions reached Caesarea and went straight to the home of Philip the preacher.  We’ve read about Philip before – you may remember it was he who ran alongside the chariot of the Ethiopian who had been excluded in so many ways.  He is described as a gifted man who is willing to be used by God.

Here, Luke reminds us that Philip was one of the seven.  Do you have any idea what that refers to?  Perhaps you recall all the way back in chapter six, where the Apostles are so overwhelmed by the growth of the church that they invented the office of Deacon and selected seven people to oversee the mission and relief of the church.  Philip is one of the seven.

Yet to the best of our knowledge, by the time we get to Acts 21, there are not seven deacons anymore.  How many are there?  There are six – because not long after they were commissioned, a deacon named Stephen is murdered because he won’t stop talking about Jesus.  In telling us that story, Luke couldn’t have been any more clear in asserting that Stephen died for his faith.

Similarly, he could not have been any more clear in describing who was responsible for Stephen’s death: there was a group of religious folks who decided that it was up to them to protect God from people they disagreed with. And no one in that mob is named, apart from a young Pharisee who in those days went by the Hebrew name of Saul; we know him better by his Greek name: Paul.

So one little detail that Luke slides into chapter 21 is that the murderer gets off the boat in Caesarea and shows up at Philip’s house and gets invited in for the evening!

Who does that?  How is that possible?  Philip invites the murderer of his good friend into his home?

Sure, time had passed, but how does the one time accuser and killer wind up being an honored guest at the feast?

Well, for several decades, both Philip and Paul had followed in the Way of Jesus, and it apparently allowed each of them to become better humans.  Neither of these men is held hostage to the past, and both appear to be open to growth and change as the Holy Spirit worked on them and through them.

I know, I know – in church we talk about that a lot – but it’s usually theoretical, right?  I mean, can’t we agree that such a radical change of heart and mind and life is unexpected, to say the least?  Isn’t that amazing to you?  I’ve got to tell you, that blows my mind.  It’s hard – so very hard – to allow one another to grow into different people and to accept it when they do.

Here’s what I’m talking about: Nearly 40 years ago I befriended and spent a lot of time with a young man from the neighborhood.  He’d come from a challenging background, but as he immersed himself in youth group and the faith community, he was taking some real strides.  He was getting himself together in ways that made me so proud.

And then, someone who lived just up the street invited my young friend to deal with some of his stressor by using street drugs. Before long, I barely recognized this kid – and he sure pretended to never recognize me.  He descended deeper and deeper into addiction and lives with many of the effects of that after all these years.

Here’s the deal: I know who sold my friend his first high.  And for years, I would walk by that person’s house with nothing but scorn or loathing in my heart.  He died a few years ago, and I will tell you that I did not grieve his death. I held onto the anger about how he contributed to my friend’s struggles.

I say this to let you know that I understand far too well how easy it is to hold onto pain and to nurse grudges.

And with that awareness, I celebrate the power of the Good News of Jesus that allowed Paul and Philip to celebrate together, rather than to be held hostage to a past that had scarred them both.

The second little detail to which I’d like to draw your attention is in the very next verse.  Philip, we are told, had four daughters who stayed with him.  As it turned out, each of these young women had followed their dad into the family business: they were preachers!

The Greek word that is used here, propheteuó, means to foretell, or to tell forth, or to prophesy.  In the New Testament, it is most often used to indicate a person who revealed the mind of God in a particular situation.

Now, what is so interesting about this?  I’ve got to tell you, over the years I’ve spent a lot of time with a lot of people who are eager to point to a few sentences in Paul’s writing and hold those few sentences up as barriers preventing women from full participation in the church of Jesus Christ.  Paul wrote a few of the so-called “clobber texts” about who was and was not suitable for leadership in particular places.  It’s fair to say that there were several specific situations where he wrote to an individual or a congregation and offered feedback and guidance about leadership roles.

And yet – here in Acts 21, he shows up at Philip’s home, where women are clearly leading in ministry, and says nothing.  That leads me to believe that we’ve got to be pretty careful about how literally we take some of those other verses dealing with women in leadership.  Paul has been portrayed as a misogynist based on a literal interpretation of a few passages, yet here (and in his earlier interactions with strong women leaders like Priscilla and Lydia) we see a different side.

These vignettes of a restored relationship and a generous inclusivity remind me of Jesus’ words from the Gospel of Luke: what is impossible for humans is possible for God.

And all of this has me wondering…

If Paul could stop in Caesarea to hear a couple of women preach, and if Philip could invite his friend’s murderer to share some hospitality… What is going on in your life and in our world that seems impossible, but needs to change anyway?

Beloved, this is the truth: the idea that we are prisoners to our past or powerless to change our present reality is incompatible with the teachings of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit that we have seen moving through the book of Acts.

What is your situation?  Are you locked into a habit that is bringing you shame, or causing you or those around you some level of distress?

Do you know the reality of struggling with depression, and are you afraid that you’ll always feel like this?

Were you raised in a place that led you to accept views or policies that denigrate other people in our world?

Some of those things, or some other trauma, may be a part of your story – of how you got to today. Yet I am here to remind you that the witness of Scripture and the testimony of many people in this room is that what may seem impossible to you now is only a starting point for the power of God.

Let me encourage you to lift up these seemingly insurmountable barriers in prayer and ask God to show you where to go and what to do.  I will also suggest that you use one of those little green and white prayer cards in the pews to share your journey.  If you do that, and if you’d like, I can help to connect you with someone who has faced the same dragons that you see now.

Your story has brought you to today.  I’m not entirely sure about all of what has come before, but I rejoice that you are here, now.  And the Good News is that your story isn’t over! It’s still being written.  I guarantee that there are a few plot twists yet to come!  I pray that you will trust the author of salvation with the narrative as you know it so far, and that we can join together in following the Jesus who invites us into a future that may seem, but most assuredly is not, impossible.  Thanks be to God!  Amen.