A Bride at a Well [John 4] (17 October 2010)

This is one of my favourite passages in the whole bible and I was quite thrilled when Santosh asked me to preach from it. With every reading, every study, new light gets thrown on the passage. New meanings emerge, like waves at a beach, each carrying the previous meaning a little further. 

Before we proceed let us understand the scene, the geography, for only then will we be in a position to understand the nature of this encounter. John tells us in v. 4 that it was necessary for Jesus to go through Samaria.

Actually, the practice of many Jews was to cross the Jordan eastward near Jericho, incidentally where Jesus probably was conducting the baptisms mentioned in this passage, then go north along the eastern bank of the Jordan in the province of Perea, and then cross over to the west near the confluence of the River Jabbok and the Jordan, thereby avoiding any contact with the Samaritans.

So if John tells us it was necessary, it cannot mean that this encounter was necessary in a geographical sense. Rather, we must conclude that the encounter in this passage was a crucial one in God’s plan, not just a nice happenstance.

In today’s passage we find Jesus at the well near Sychar. The road from Jericho to Jerusalem and then north to Nazareth in Galilee did run through Sychar. But the well was about half a mile away from the road, toward the east of the city. So Jesus actually would have gone through Sychar, and then walked another half mile east to rest near the well. Why? Was there no inn or tavern where he could have gotten a decent midday meal and rested his feet? And then he must have sent his disciples back to the city to get food. Does this not seem like simply an excuse to get rid of the disciples for a while? It was necessary for him to be at this well, but it was necessary also that the disciples not be there!

Now the well itself is an important symbol in the Old Testament. We in this city today, where the water supply is inconsistent at best have a different important symbol – the borewell. In the Old Testament scenes at wells have immense significance. Abraham’s servant, sent to find a bride for Isaac, finds Rebecca at a well. Jacob, fleeing from Esau, and looking for a place to settle, finds Rachel at a well. Moses, fleeing from Egypt, finds Zipporah at a well. The Samaritans, whose faith centred around the patriarchs and Moses knew these well scenes well. The well was where the towering figures of their faith found their brides.

Finally, we also need to take a close look at some of John’s comments for they are telling. Our passage is sandwiched between Jesus’ encounter with Nicodemus and his encounter with the nobleman. At the end of the encounter with the nobleman, John tells us that healing the nobleman’s son was the second miracle that Jesus did, the first being when he changed water to wine at Cana. What this specifically means is that the encounter with the woman involved no miracle. This is important so hold on to that thought.

Another comment John makes is in v. 9. After the woman asks Jesus how he asks her for water, John tells us, “For Jews do not associate with Samaritans.” Yet, when the disciples return, John tells us they were surprised to find him talking with a woman. Why does John bother with these two bits of information? Why should we know whom the Jews did not associate with? Why should we know what the disciples were thinking? As Pastor Ken told us last week, John has had a good 60 years in which to ponder what he will write in his Gospel. If he has written something, it must be for a good reason.

John is telling us not to be like the disciples. John is telling us, this is primarily an encounter between a Jew and a Samaritan, their respective genders are incidental to the encounter. John is telling us that the entire exchange between Jesus and the woman should be understood as being between a Jew and a Samaritan.

Now let us see what happens in this exchange. Jesus asks the woman for a drink. She asks him how he, being a Jew, asks a Samaritan for water. Jesus then introduces the concept of living water. The woman accurately observes that Jesus has no implements with which to draw water from this well. So she concludes that there must be more to this man than meets the eye.

“Surely you are not greater than our patriarch Jacob who first dug this well so that centuries later we still can draw from it.” For Jacob, the patriarch, did not simply draw water from this well. By digging the well, he had provided generations of Samaritans with water. Indeed the Empress Helena had built a church over the well, providing a small passage down to the well. The well was found to be 35 feet deep and even in the seventeenth century there was 5 feet of water in it. Of course, human propensity to throw garbage just about anywhere has killed the well.

Jesus realizes that the woman is catching on. So he extends the metaphor. “Drink of the water I give you and you yourself will become a source of this water.”

Now the woman realizes that not only is this man claiming to be equal to Jacob. He is indeed claiming to be far greater! Now the Samaritans held to a Moses centred doctrine rather than a David centred one. This is only expected since the Northern kingdom of Israel, which later became Samaria, separated itself from the Southern kingdom of Judah ruled by David’s descendents. The Samaritans were looking for the Prophet like Moses of Deuteronomy 18.15. 

When Jesus extends the metaphor, the woman realizes that he is claiming to be the prophet like Moses that the Samaritans awaited. Only that prophet could have a gift such as the one Jesus claims to have.

She understands that he is claiming to have a gift that only a fool would refuse. And she is no fool. So she asks Jesus for the gift. Give me this water. And if this were indeed that prophet, then the Messianic age would have started and physical thirst would have been abolished. So she boldly declares her faith by saying, “Give me this water, so that I may not have to keep coming here.” She is not running away from her problems. She is challenging Jesus to live up to his words. She has not misunderstood Jesus. She has understood him better than we understand him. If he is the Messiah then his blessings must infuse our physical world as well, not just our spiritual world. Jesus’ blessings cannot only be pie in the sky by and by!

To her statement of faith Jesus says, “Go call your husband and come back.” If this were literal, it just does not make sense. Remember, we already said that this encounter does not involve any miracle, even the miracle of revealing to the woman her past. If Jesus had revealed her past, he would have been doing a miracle. Yet, John goes to great pains to indicate both the first and the second miracles and no other!

If we take the reference to husband as literal, then we have to explain why from the notion of living water, Jesus jumps to the woman’s past, then she jumps to his being a prophet and to worshipping on a mountain. The whole passage then seems like a hodgepodge of disjointed segments that are as immiscible as oil and water.

But if we take our cue from the Gospel itself, which tells us that Jesus is doing nothing miraculous in this encounter, then we cannot take this talk of husbands as literal. It must be symbolic. But symbolic of what?

In 2 Kings 17 we read that the king of Assyria settled what later became Samaria with people from five nations – Babylon, Cuthah, Avva, Hamath and Sepharvaim – who built places of worship to their gods. The Samaritans became corrupted and worshipped these gods. Then the king of Assyria sent a Jewish priest to Samaria to teach the residents how to worship God. But they did not worship only God. They also worshipped other gods.

In light of the marriage metaphor used by many prophets to describe the relationship between God and Israel, we draw from 2 Kings 17 that the Samaritans had five husbands – namely the gods of Babylon, Cuthah, Avva, Hamath and Sepharvaim. Then they turned to a faith which mixed worship of God with these foreign gods. In other words, currently the Samaritans were not in a covenant relationship with any god because the true God cannot be worshipped along with other gods.

As soon as Jesus mentions the five husbands and the one who is not a husband, the woman, who is very astute, recognizes that this is the kind of language the Old Testament prophets used to describe the relationship of God with Israel. 

So she says, “I can see that you are a prophet.” Not because he had told her all her dark secrets. John has already told us not to see this encounter as containing anything miraculous. She recognizes a prophet because he is denouncing incorrect worship. A prophet’s primary task was not to tell people their secrets or to reveal the future, but to call people back to worshipping God correctly.

And so she continues with the subject of worship. “Where should we worship?” is her question. Here on Mount Gerizim as believed by the Samaritans or in Jerusalem as believed by the Jews?

Jesus also continues with the subject of worship and makes it clear that in the future the place of worship will be rendered meaningless for what would matter is that people worshipped in Spirit and truth.

Later in the Gospel, in chapter 7, Jesus says, “If anyone is thirsty, let them come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within them.” You can search night and day for an Old Testament passage that mentions streams of living water flowing from a person and you will not find it. But we have just seen Jesus, God’s Word become flesh, make this promise to the woman! Jesus is citing himself as Scripture! What a wonder. And in chapter 7 John explains what Jesus told the woman. The living water is the Spirit.

And so we see what the encounter with the Samaritan woman is all about. It is not about Jesus’ telling the woman her secrets. Rather, it is about Jesus as the Bridegroom of the New Israel wooing God’s lost people of Samaria to re-enter a covenant relationship with the Father in which each one of them will learn from the Spirit that flows within them how to worship the Father. And he does it in much the same way as the towering figures of Samaritan faith found their brides – at a well.

Grace That Terrifies [Luke 1.26-38] (16 December 2001)

Accompanying Presentation (opens in a new window)

You have to hand it to George Lucas! When it comes to mimicking the gospel story and certain particulars about Jesus’ life, no one today comes closer or does a slicker job of it. To the careful listener, little phrases reveal how indebted Mr. Lucas is to the biblical writers. Of course, he will most likely deny my claim, probably because he and millions of his fans consider him an ingenious storyteller. However, before we go into the details of his indebtedness, let us read the scripture for today.

[Read Luke 1.26-28]

I see a number of parallels. In The Phantom Menace, Anakin Skywalker’s mother tells Qui-Gon Jinn, “There was no father.” There was no father! Anakin has no human father. Just like Jesus. What about Anakin’s nickname Ani? If you were to take a class on biblical Hebrew, in the second week or so you would learn that Ani in Hebrew means, “I am.” Whoa! That little twerp has a self-referential name, just like the God of the Old Testament, the name that Jesus then claims to have authority to use. But it does not stop there! Could Anakin’s last name, Skywalker, be yet another allusion to Jesus, but here in an attempt to trump Jesus? Jesus is, after all, only the sea-walker! Anakin is a step above, the Skywalker! And we could go into the entire Star Wars plot and we will find more similarities. That is the task for a different day and a different setting.

However, Lucas’ superficiality shows up in the meaning he gives these similarities and in some things that are distinctive in the Gospels. And it is to these that we must now turn. Unlike most of my sermons, I am going to give you a partial roadmap right at the start. This is because we will be exploring Luke’s theological brilliance by drawing out meaning from a few phrases in the passage we just read. Before we do that, however, I wish to make a disclaimer.

We have four Gospels in the New Testament. All of them tell the same story. However, all of them are different. They tell the same story in four different ways, with four different sets of purposes, and with four different expectations of the reader or listener. Let us not conflate the four Gospels into one and try to get one story. For in so doing, we will have to discard precisely those elements that do not fit our storytelling scheme. If, then, we consider Luke’s Gospel inspired, let us see what Luke was led to tell us, what nuances he was led to bring out in this story, what implications he would expect us to draw from his telling of the story. So let us now get to the roadmap.

We will focus on four parts of the conversation between Mary and Gabriel that are loaded with theological insight. First, we will deal with the initial words of Gabriel, “Greetings, favored one!” Second, we will look at the next phrase in his greeting, “The Lord is with you.” Third, we will address Mary’s question, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” Fourth, we will look at Gabriel’s reply, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.”

Our passage begins with Gabriel appearing to Mary and saying, “Greetings, favored one.” How do we visualize this? Now, George Lucas’ creation is not the only one that wanders into the issues with which we are dealing. The movie Dogma also does the same. I recall the scene in which Metatron, the voice of God, blasts his way into the bedroom of Bethany, the heroine, to tell her that God had chosen her to be the savior of the world. Just as an aside, Jewish Hekhalot mystics in the 2nd century AD coined the name, Metatron, as another name for the archangel, Michael. In the movie, Metatron is an angry being, quite disgruntled with the job of having to be the voice of God to humans who never listen. Since Dogma is parodying the Gospel accounts, it misses two very important elements. Gabriel tells Mary, “Greetings, favored one.” Later he tells her, “You have found favor with God.” Two elements missing in the movie are the two that are most crucial to this passage in Luke. First, the notion that Mary is favored by God. We will consider the second shortly.

In the Old Testament, we have one example of someone finding favor with God. Can anyone recall whom? Noah! In Genesis 6.8 we read, “But Noah found favor in the sight of the Lord.” And what was Noah’s task? God was using him to save the entire human race. By using the same phrase, Gabriel was telling Mary that she too was to be used in a like manner.

In Star Wars, Anakin too is supposed to be the great savior. However, his conception was inexplicable. His mother had no clue whatsoever. The midi-chlorians, the organisms that communicate the will of the Force are as impersonal as the Force itself. They conceive the child without bothering to relate to the mother. Anakin’s mother was neither blessed nor cursed by the midi-chlorians. She was just a vessel for the fulfillment of their prophecy.

Not so in the bible! Mary, in and of herself, had found favor with God. Just as no one but Noah could have done what God did through him, so also no one but Mary could have done what God did through her.

However, this was no quaint greeting, as though Gabriel had appeared and said a soft “hello” or “God loves you” or something like that. It was no ordinary greeting. And Mary knew that. That is why we read, “she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be.” That is, she knew that this was an extraordinary greeting and wondered what kind of extraordinary task she was to be given. For to be the recipient of God’s favor is not, as we might suppose, a thing of comfort. Rather, to be the recipient of God’s favor is to have your world shaken to the core! God’s favor is unsettling. God’s grace is grace that terrifies!

Gabriel also tells Mary, “The Lord is with you.” Mary was assured of God’s presence. We often use words lightly. We say, “The Lord be with you” or “peace be with you” or simply “peace” without understanding the implications. The phrase appears in the Old Testament not as often as we might expect or even hope. Rather, we read it at choice moments. We read it when Jacob has his dream, only to see him then work as a slave for his father-in-law, only to see him then struggle with God and leave the struggle with a limp. The phrase shows up when God appears to Moses at the burning bush. And we then see Moses’ struggles with the Egyptians and with the Israelites. The phrase shows up in God’s calling Jeremiah as a prophet. And we see Jeremiah being beaten, thrown in prison, lowered into quicksand, and dragged off to Egypt by the people who refused to listen to him. I do not know about you, but to hear God say, “I am with you” is not like a warm embrace! This is not a hug from a doting father.

It is very different from the trite, “May the Force be with you” often uttered in the Star Wars movies. In the movies, that phrase just serves to remind the viewer the world that has been created on the screen. It is a world permeated by the Force. If it were not for the need to remind today’s viewer who has extremely bad short-term memory, the phrase could well be replaced by a sweet “Goodbye” or “Have a good one” in most places.

To the contrary, the words, “The Lord is with you,” pave the way for a life of struggle, a life of uncertainty. God says these words before Jacob, Moses, and Jeremiah enter their struggles so that they will have something to hold on to when times get rough and doubt sets in. To hear the words, “The Lord is with you” then is not to be assured of a smooth road ahead. Rather, it is to know that God says these words precisely because the road ahead is horrific. Again, to hear that God is going to grace you with his presence is to know that there are untold struggles ahead! God’s presence is disquieting. God’s grace is grace that terrifies.

So we come to Mary’s question, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” We must let Mary be Mary, a young Jewish girl in the first century. Gabriel had said, “And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” What did Mary understanding Gabriel to be telling her?

The references to David’s throne and to a kingdom without end would have made it clear that Gabriel was announcing the birth of the Davidic Messiah. This would have been good news to Mary in and of itself. However, there was a problem—Mary was still a virgin. She was betrothed to Joseph but they had not consummated their relationship. Like her contemporaries, Mary might also have been hoping to be the mother of the Messiah. And like her contemporaries, she probably had no expectation of a virginal conception.

Rather, she expected that this son would be born through the normal human process. To be the mother of the Messiah was a glorious thing. Imagine! Some years in the future, her son would ride into Jerusalem and vanquish the Romans. He would establish God’s Messianic kingdom centered at Jerusalem, with renewed Temple worship. What glory! And the cooking he would crave would be Mary’s! He would wear robes that she had sewn! And when he married—yes, they expected the Messiah to get married—he would marry the woman Mary chose! What glory!

This Wednesday the first of The Lord of the Rings trilogy subtitled The Fellowship of the Ring will be released. Alice and I are going with a few of you to see it. If others of you are interested, let me know. The three books revolve around a haunting poem:

Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bin them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

At the beginning of the book, the ring has come into the possession of Frodo, a young Hobbit. In a conversation with Gandalf, the wizard, Frodo learns of the immense power of the ring and wishes to have nothing to do with it. He tells Gandalf that, since Gandalf knew much more about the ring, he was better suited to destroy it than was Frodo. Here is an excerpt from the book that will hopefully entice you to read it and then watch the movie.

[Read from The Fellowship of the Ring, p. 60. The Lord of the Rings can be purchased from Amazon outside India and from Flipkart inside India. Page references will vary!]

Frodo thinks like us. If the ring is so powerful, surely one with more power is best suited to deal with it. Mary and other Jewish women also thought in much the same way. To be the Messiah was glorious. To be the Messiah’s mother surely was the most glorious thing that could happen to a woman.

But Gandalf reveals an insight that we often overlook. Frodo was the best choice to care for the powerful ring precisely because his lack of power made him lack ambition. His meager status made it impossible for him to have visions of grandeur. So also with Mary. To be the Messiah might be a glorious thing. But this Messiah was to carry around with him the shame of a dubious birth. And he would die an disreputable death on a Roman stake. And Mary would have to share in her son’s shame. To be the mother of this Messiah was to be willing to carry around with you the stigma of illegitimate birth. After all, how many people would have believed her when she said that this child had been conceived by the power of the Holy Spirit? And Mary would eventually have to watch her son die seemingly cursed by God. Such shame!

We do not see this in Lucas’ epic. The world Lucas paints is not a moral world like the one Jesus lived in. Anakin’s conception without a father results only in admiration for the boy. The mother, once again, is only a vessel, neither loved, nor despised, by those around her. Having violated her, by imposing their miraculous conception on her, the midi-chlorians spare her the joy and terror of participating in most of her son’s life.

But God did not spare Mary the joy and the terror. And right from the start, right from Jesus’ conception to his crucifixion and resurrection, Mary had to realize that God’s actions are not predictable. She had to realize that to be the person through whom God acts is to have your expectations altered. God’s actions are universe shattering. God’s grace is grace that terrifies.

Finally, we come to Gabriel’s response, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.” Gabriel also points to the fact that Elizabeth had conceived though she had been barren. What the angel was saying is that God had overcome Elizabeth’s barrenness. God would also overcome the obstacle of Mary’s virginity. And Gabriel tells Mary how. The language used appears in only once in the Old Testament in Genesis 1.2. “The earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while the spirit of God hovered over the face of the waters.” Here we see the juxtaposition of God’s spirit and the language of hovering or overshadowing.

In The Phantom Menace, we learn that the midi-chlorians are the ones responsible for Anakin’s conception. They are symbionts. Qui-Gon Jinn tells Anakin that the midi-chlorians could not exist without humans and that humans could have no knowledge of the Force without the midi-chlorians. It is important to understand what is said. The midi-chlorians depend on humans for their existence. Humans could, on the other hand, live without the midi-chlorians. We would just not have knowledge of the Force. In Lucas’ world that might be undesirable. But it is not life threatening! Human life is necessary for midi-chlorian life, but not vice-versa.

In contrast, Genesis tells us that creation was God’s initiative. God’s Spirit existed prior to and apart from creation. Creation needs God’s Spirit to exist, not vice-versa. God’s Spirit hovered over the void and filled it with life. In the same way, Gabriel tells Mary that God’s Spirit would hover over her empty womb and fill it with life. The allusion to Genesis, however, leads us to realize that this is no ordinary life. Rather, the life to be formed in her is so special that only language used in relation to the original act of creation is appropriate. This life marks a new creation.

God had made the first creation from the void. And he had made it very good. However, humans spoiled creation. God could have decided to scrap it all. In fact, the Old Testament tells us that he did consider that option a few times. In the end, however, he decided to do what he does best, to let his grace abound in the context of our sinfulness, to bring life out of death. Rather than scrap creation and begin afresh, God decides to bring good out of his first creation itself. Into the morass of sinfulness, he sends his Spirit to birth a new creation. A new creation with paradoxical laws in which a person can be human and divine, in which the way to rule is by serving, in which self-surrender is the way to self-realization, in which the humiliation of the cross is the glory of the Messiah.

We do not see this reversal in Lucas’ world. Rather, in the Star Wars universe the light and dark sides of the Force are in perpetual battle. There is no reversal, nothing new. There are only cycles that repeat endlessly.

However, in the bible the action of God’s Spirit creates something new. Mary realizes this slowly. She realizes how awesome, how awful, it is to be acted upon by God’s Spirit. She realizes that to be acted on by God’s Spirit is to be faced with a new reality, a new way of living. God’s Spirit recreates our world. Indeed, God’s grace is grace that terrifies!

This is the message of Christmas then. We have made it trivial by speaking of it merely as a celebration of Jesus’ birth. We have reduced it to a family holiday. We send cards to those who send cards to us. These aren’t bad things. It is good to celebrate Jesus’ birth. It is good to celebrate with family. It is good to tell loved ones that we are thinking of them as we celebrate. But there is much more! So much more!

Gabriel told Mary the challenge of Christmas. It is this: God’s favor is unsettling. God’s presence is disquieting. God’s actions are universe shattering. God’s Spirit recreates our world.

Is this comfort? What about the message of peace on earth and goodwill to humans? Ah! There’s the bite! There’s the paradox! To those who embrace God’s grace in all its awe-inspiring terror, the challenge of Christmas becomes the message. To them the unsettling favor will become a sure foundation. To them the disquieting presence will become the source of peace. For them the actions that shatter our universe will become the reason for hope. Moreover, the Spirit that replaces our old world with a new one will become the source of power to live in the new reality.

Are we willing to embrace God’s grace in all its awe-inspiring terror? Are we willing to say, as Mary did, “Here I am, the servant of the Lord” and become a powerful instrument in his hands? Are we ready to face up to daunting opposition in the course of serving God? Are we primed to see God remove the obstacles and show us that “nothing will be impossible with God”? Are we, after all, bold enough to let his Spirit show us a new way of living, a way of living markedly different from what we might be used to? If we are, then, though God’s grace is grace that terrifies, we are truly those to whom God says, “Do not be afraid!”

To the Ends of the Earth [Acts 11:19-13:3] (2 September 2001)

Accompanying Presentation (opens in a new window)

Since the first week of July we have been learning from the first few chapters of Acts. Today will be final message of nine messages in this series. Before proceeding let us recap what we have learnt so far.

In the first sermon on Acts 1 we saw that the disciples were told to wait for the outpouring of the Spirit because the Spirit would usher in a new era during which we need to be very sensitive to the promptings of the Spirit. Each situation that confronts us needs to be evaluated for its own merit. What worked yesterday might not work today.

Then from Acts 2 we saw that the death and resurrection of Jesus had changed things at a cosmic level. So great was the change that the new age of the Spirit had begun while the old age characterized by enmity to the Spirit was still around. The two ages inevitably clash because their agendas are different. The old age is ruled by death while the new age of the Spirit is characterized by life in Jesus.

In the third sermon we saw that healing happens today precisely because the Spirit works to reverse death. We saw that the barrenness of Sarah, Rebecca, and Rachel, like illnesses and debilitating conditions, are but a sign of the reign of death which God has overcome in the death and resurrection of Jesus. However, there is no formula for healing. We can only depend on God’s initiative and hope that he stretches his hand in response to our pleas.

Then from three stories in Acts 4, 5, & 6 we learnt that the Spirit promotes a form of life in the church that is drastically contrary to other forms of life to which we are used. While the old age tells us to seek prestige and look to money for security, the Spirit produces humility and asks us to find security in God. While the old age tells us to make people dependent on us so as to hold on to power, the Spirit asks us to willingly give away our power, to empower others so that he can work through others.

In Acts 7 we dealt with the martyrdom of Stephen. We saw that he was open to the realm of heaven in which the death of Jesus is given cosmic significance that runs contrary to the curse of Deuteronomy 21.23. And we saw that Stephen imitated Jesus in his death—a death of which Saul of Tarsus was a witness. We saw that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.

In the sixth message we learnt from Act 8 about the effect that Saul’s persecution and Stephen’s death had on the church. We saw that persecution is a foolish thing to undertake because it forces the church to behave like a body. We also saw that the suffering servant passage in Isaiah 53 applies to Jesus but not to Jesus alone. Rather, it applies to all who follow Jesus. I ended the sermon with a call to recovering this essential element of our calling in relation to the world.

In the seventh message we learnt from Acts 9 what happened to Saul on his way to Damascus. We saw that what changed Saul from a persecutor of the church to a defender of the faith was a vision in which he saw the crucified Jesus, the one whom he believed was under God’s curse, at the right hand of God. Saul realized that God’s way of ruling and conquering was by allowing himself to be the target of human hatred and violence. Jesus conquered his enemies by allowing them to kill him. Jesus had placed himself under the curse of Deuteronomy 21.23, but by virtue of his innocence had transformed it into a blessing. And with this conviction Saul became Jesus’ twelfth apostle.

Last week, from the episode of Peter’s dream about unclean animals, I drew three important implications: first, the equality of women and men in the ministries of the church; second, God has done away with circumcision as the marker of the people of God, though not as a marker of the Jewish people. The priority of the Jews in salvation history needs to be remembered; third, it means that our past does not matter, that what matters is that Jesus reaches out to undeserving humans and lavishes them with his love.

Till now in Acts, the gospel is still in the area of Palestine, though barely. As seen in the next slide, from Acts 1 to Acts 10 the gospel had spread from Jerusalem to Caesarea, a distance of only about 50 miles! So much for the gospel going to the ends of the earth! As you can see, the gospel is still in Palestine. Incidentally, it was at Caesarea that archeologists found the only evidence that confirms that Pilate was indeed appointed as governor of Judea during the reign of Tiberius. The slide shows what is called the Pilate Inscription.

In Acts 11 we read about initial travels of Barnabas and Saul. Saul, you will remember, is in Tarsus, his birthplace. Meanwhile, the gospel was being preached along the Mediterranean coast, till it reached Antioch. The Jerusalem church sent Barnabas to Antioch to oversee the church there. Now Barnabas had recognized in Saul tremendous potential. So he went north from Jerusalem to Antioch as seen in the next slide. He then went to Tarsus, where Saul was, and brought him back to Antioch. While they were at Antioch the followers of Jesus were first called Christians. About that time a Christian named Agabus prophesied a famine that would affect the church in Jerusalem. So the church in Antioch sent Barnabas and Saul to Jerusalem with financial assistance.

Then next we encounter Barnabas and Saul is in Acts 12.25. Let us hear now the text for today.

[Here read Acts 12.25-13.3]

We have finally stepped outside the bounds of the Promised Land. It has taken half the book of Acts to describe this arduous journey during which we have seen the church slowly learning the implications of Jesus’ death and resurrection. At times, like when Peter heals the man at the temple, or when Stephen confesses Jesus to the point of death, or when Philip witnesses to the Ethiopian eunuch, the church shone. But then there have been the not so positive episodes of casting lots, of Ananias and Sapphira, of Peter’s reluctance to proclaim the gospel to uncircumcised Gentiles. It has been a rough ride, but for that reason, a real one. And finally, we are poised to have the church unleashed on the world.

At the end of Acts, we find Paul in Rome, witnessing to Jesus in the capital of the Empire. In a period of about twenty-five years the gospel had spread from Jerusalem to Rome. The next slide shows the spread of the gospel in the first century. In the second century, as the next slide shows, the gospel had reached the Western extremities of Southern Europe and Northern Africa, and the Northern ends of central Europe. The map does not show the massive spread of the gospel along the Nile and East of Mesopotamia.

In the third century despite severe persecution during the reigns of the Emperors Decius and Diocletian, the church continued to grow till it had extended far beyond the scope of the Roman Empire and had affected almost every area of life.

Such miraculous growth! In a race of religions, this was the one to back! Projecting the growth of the first three centuries indicates that the gospel should have reached the ends of the earth latest by the sixth century.

But after the first three centuries something happened. The church got stuck. Growth rates decreased. And when Islam rose among the Arabs, the church held on for dear life but kept losing territory. In fact today, of the seven main centers of Christianity during the first three centuries, only Rome still remains even nominally Christian.

What happened? How was this force stopped—this force that Paul calls the power of God for the salvation of the world? And why do we now still experience the frustration of not making the kind of impact on the world that we see in Acts and in the first three centuries of Christianity? Why is it that Europe is now post-Christian? Why is North Africa Muslim? Why is the Middle East Muslim? Why did the gospel presumably fail in India and China? Why is South America merely nominally Christian? And why is North America, like Europe, also post-Christian?

Such weighty questions! Can our text answer them? I believe it can. There is one tiny sentence in there. The leaders of the Antioch church are worshipping and fasting when they hear the Spirit say, “Set apart for me Barnabas and Saul for the work to which I have called them.” And then it comes. “Then after fasting and praying they laid their hands on them and sent them off.”

So innocuous! So harmless! So benign! But so powerful!

Most Christians would agree that Paul is probably the greatest theologian of all. Even Peter had to admit that some of the things Paul wrote were difficult to grasp. And even today, as we learn more about the world in which the early Christians lived, we find new insights into Paul’s letters.

And probably most Christians would also agree that Paul is probably the greatest missionary of all. Missiologists and missionaries today still study Paul’s missionary methods and his missionary journeys.

But we have failed to link the two. Paul’s letters were written during his missionary journeys. They are not theological treatises but theological reflections on his missions. This fine thinker could only produce the depth of theology while he was on his missionary journeys.

But we have locked up our fine thinkers. We have labeled them theologians and have asked them to write treatises for us. And they come up with tomes of systematic theologies and thousands of “how to” books. And we fail to see the relevance of all the doctrine we learn. Have we ever asked ourselves, “How in the world does believing that God is Trinity change the way I live?”

And then we send others on mission trips. We have labeled them missionaries and we ask them to raise support for their trips and then to give us reports on them. And so they sweat to raise funds and give us reports of their missions. And we feel nice and warm as though watching a slide show means that we have fulfilled the commission. Have we ever asked ourselves, “How in the world does knowing the widespread ignorance about Jesus change the way I live?”

Barnabas and Saul were part of the leadership at Antioch. One was an encourager beyond compare, the other a thinker in the grip of a heavenly vision. Any local church could do with such Christians. And yet we read, “They laid their hands on them and sent them off.”

They sent their best duo off. They presumably trusted that God would provide adequate replacements for Barnabas and Saul. But the church in general has not been able to trust in this way. And herein lies the root of the stagnation of the church. How does it normally work? Someone graduates from seminary and we make him a youth minister. After some years he is promoted to assistant pastor. And then, when his productive years are over, he gets to be a senior pastor. If he is a gifted person, why was he not commissioned as a missionary? And if he was not gifted, why in the world is he a pastor?

We have made the church look like a corporation as though getting to be senior pastor were like becoming a CEO. We have not listened to that voice that says, “Set apart for me.” That is why so many pastors burn out. That is why long-term missionaries are so few. That is why the church adopts a ghetto mentality. And that is why much that passes as Christian literature is filled with platitudes.

You see, the more gifted you think a leader is, the more likely God is calling her elsewhere. Are we willing to listen? Are we willing to hear God say, “Set apart for me”? We must! For only when our most gifted brothers and sisters go to the frontiers and engage unbelief with belief and then reflect on their engagements will we develop expressions of theology and missiology that are appropriate for our contexts.

...And Also the Gentiles [Acts 9:31-11:18] (26 August 2001)

Last week, in our series of messages from Acts, we learnt from Acts 9 what happened to Saul on his way to Damascus. We saw that what changed Saul from a persecutor of the church to a defender of the faith was a vision in which he saw the crucified Jesus, the one whom he believed was under God’s curse, at the right hand of God. Saul realized that God’s way of ruling and conquering was by allowing himself to be the target of human hatred and violence. Jesus conquered his enemies by allowing them to kill him. Jesus had placed himself under the curse of Deuteronomy 21.23, but by virtue of his innocence had transformed it into a blessing. And with this conviction Saul became Jesus’ twelfth apostle.

Today, on account of the report from the Romania team, communion, and the barbeque, I am going to be extremely brief. I would love to be able to read all of Acts 9.31-11.18 but let us restrict ourselves to only the portion of text that deals with the theme of the sermon—Acts 10.1-20. I have asked Alice to read for us the text for today.

Thanks Alice.

This is a well-known and quite humorous scene from the bible. The foremost apostle is unable to control the growls of his stomach, and possibly to maintain a degree of respect withdraws to the roof of the house. And there God teases him with foods he would have never dared eat. Think of it. Peter is on the roof daydreaming about the next meal. The aroma of the meal wafts up and he falls into a trance. He hears a voice, “If you’re hungry Peter, here’s food!” All excited, he looks upward only to find an abominable pig with an equally distasteful lobster. “You’re kidding, aren’t you, Lord?”

These days, if we have to specify a Jewish person who believes in Jesus, we would use the phrase “messianic Jew.” How quaint! Luke’s phrase in Acts is “followers of the Way.” Later, the followers of Jesus will be called Christians. But never in the bible do we have a qualifier, an adjective, to tell us that the Christian is a Jew. Why? Because during those early days of the church, most Christians were Jews. In fact, till the text we read today, all the believers were Jews in some way. The Samaritans were products of mixed marriages. So they had Jewish blood in their veins. And any believers who were not ethnically of Jewish stock had formally converted to Judaism. In fact, to say Jewish Christian would have been quite redundant. Of course a Christian would be a Jew. It would be like saying American Californian. It’s a useless phrase. But something happens to Peter that would eventually make the phrases “Jewish Christian” and “messianic Jew” meaningful.

The way in which Luke tells us the story of Peter and Cornelius shows us that Peter was quite reluctant to approach uncircumcised Gentiles. Circumcision was the sign of one’s being a part of God’s people. How then could the apostle circumvent circumcision?

You see Peter was not opposed to taking the Gospel to Gentiles. What he was opposed to was that the Gentiles should receive the Holy Spirit without the sign of circumcision. Circumcision was what made the male Jew holy and clean in the sight of God. How could it be otherwise for Gentiles?

George W. Bush is in the process of providing amnesty to selected illegal immigrants. This is a good move on his part. But what is he doing? He is saying that though these people broke US immigration laws, he will forgive. That is a commendable decision. But do you think he can waive the requirement that naturalized citizens need to take the pledge of allegiance? He can. But he won’t because it would be preposterous to think that one could become a citizen of the United States of America without pledging allegiance to its flag and to the republic for which it stands. You want to be a citizen then salute the flag.

And that is what Peter expects. You want to be a part of the people of God then go through the pledge of allegiance. But that is what God changes. The Holy Spirit is poured out on Gentiles without the requirement of circumcision.

What does Jesus do by this? What are the implications of the fact that he does not require Gentiles to get circumcised? I believe there are three.

First, circumcision was performed only on males. So Jewish women could never be full members of the covenant community. They shared in the covenant blessings only in so far as they were related to a man. A girl was related to her father, a wife to her husband, and a mother to her son. By relegating circumcision to the position of an ethnic marker rather than a theological marker, Jesus does away with the gender inequality. Women Christians are full members of the people of God. They do not need to be related to a male Christian.

This is a point the church has had a hard time implementing. We have forgotten that the letters in the New Testament were written in response to specific situations in the various churches. While we may not know what these situations were, we cannot forget that there were circumstances that provoked the writing of these letters.

Furthermore, the church has been largely male dominated. And we have applied the passages that warn against woman leadership quite woodenly while at the same time being lax about the issues raised in those same letters about male leadership. We insist on 1 Timothy 2 and the restriction on women but at the same time provide exceptions to 1 Timothy 3 and the requirements of male leadership. We need to juxtapose the words “I permit no woman to teach or have authority over a man” with the words “For if a man has not the art of ruling his house, how will he take care of the church of God?” If we believe that God can choose a single man against these words, on what basis do we insist that he cannot choose a woman?

Women are full participants in the covenant. Men are to be their partners, not their crutches. And certainly not their masters! I daresay that this oppression of women by the male dominated church has grieved God much. We have quenched the Spirit enough. It is time to change.

Second, Jesus does not do away with circumcision for Jews. But what he has done is change its meaning. It is no longer a marker of who belongs to the people of God. It is a marker of who is a Jew. Though Jew and Gentile stand equally before God, they are not identical. The sign of circumcision places them physically within the heritage of faith that started with Abraham. Gentile Christians also have the same heritage. But we cannot claim it physically. What this tells us is that the gospel has gone and should go first to the Jews and then to the Gentiles. The order within the history of salvation should never be forgotten. God has not rejected the Jews. If we think he has, what gives us the confidence that he will not reject us? If we dare to believe that God will not reject us, then we cannot but believe that he will also not reject the Jews. If we keep this before us, we will avoid the past atrocities of the church when Christians persecuted Jews. By not requiring Gentiles to undergo circumcision, Jesus is reminding us of the crucial order: to the Jew first, and also to the Gentile. Rather than fuel anti-Semitism, this change is intended to do the reverse. And when understood properly, that is what it does. Being part of the people of God means being separated by and for God. Before Jesus died and was raised, the Jews bore circumcision as the mark that separated them for God. Today Christians bear the cross as the mark that separates us for God.

Third, Jesus tells us, “Your past does not matter. What matters is that I am reaching out to you. What matters is that I want to show you how much I love you. What matters is that I want to pour out my Spirit on you.” It does not matter what we have done. We may be born into a family with a sordid history. We may have indulged in all kinds of devious and evil practices. We may think that we have messed up so badly that no one—and certainly not God—would want to have anything to do with us. But by doing away with circumcision Jesus says that we don’t need to clean things up before we come to him. In fact, we cannot because he is the real Mr. Clean. Cleaning us up is his job. We can approach him as we are ruined, messed up, broken. And he will accept us. His challenge is, “Can you believe that I will accept you?” Please do not leave today without the firm conviction that Jesus will not turn me or you away because of our faults and sins.

We will move now to communion.

The Twelfth Apostle [Acts 9:1-30] (19 August 2001)

Accompanying Presentation (opens in a new window)

Since the first week of July we have been learning from the first few chapters of Acts. Today will be the seventh message of nine messages in this series. Let us recap what we have learnt so far. In the first sermon on Acts 1 we saw that the disciples were told to wait for the outpouring of the Spirit because the Spirit would usher in a new era during which we need to be very sensitive to the promptings of the Spirit. Each situation that confronts us needs to be evaluated for its own merit. What worked yesterday might not work today.

Then from Acts 2 we saw that the death and resurrection of Jesus had changed things at a cosmic level. So great was the change that the new age of the Spirit had begun while the old age characterized by enmity to the Spirit was still around. The two ages inevitably clash because their agendas are different. The old age is ruled by death while the new age of the Spirit is characterized by life in Jesus.

In the third sermon we saw that healing happens today precisely because the Spirit works to reverse death. We saw that the barrenness of Sarah, Rebecca, and Rachel, like illnesses and debilitating conditions, are but a sign of the reign of death which God has overcome in the death and resurrection of Jesus. However, there is no formula for healing. We can only depend on God’s initiative and hope that he stretches his hand in response to our pleas.

Then from three stories in Acts 4, 5, & 6 we learnt that the Spirit promotes a form of life in the church that is drastically contrary to other forms of life to which we are used. While the old age tells us to seek prestige and look to money for security, the Spirit produces humility and asks us to find security in God. While the old age tells us to make people dependent on us so as to hold on to power, the Spirit asks us to willingly give away our power, to empower others so that he can work through others.

n Acts 7 we dealt with the martyrdom of Stephen. We saw that he was open to the realm of heaven in which the death of Jesus is given cosmic significance that runs contrary to the curse of Deuteronomy 21.23. And we saw that Stephen imitated Jesus in his death—a death of which Saul of Tarsus was a witness. We saw that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.

Last week we learnt from Act 8 about the effect that Saul’s persecution and Stephen’s death had on the church. We saw that persecution is a foolish thing to undertake because it forces the church to behave like a body. We also saw that the suffering servant passage in Isaiah 53 applies to Jesus but not to Jesus alone. Rather, it applies to all who follow Jesus. I ended the sermon with a call to recovering this essential element of our calling in relation to the world.

Today we will learn from Acts 9 what happened to Saul—the feared persecutor of the church. Let us track Saul’s journeys in Acts 9. At the beginning of the chapter he is in Jerusalem and on his way to Damascus. As he nears Damascus, he sees a vision of Jesus. He is helped into the city where, after three days, Ananias comes to him and completes his conversion. He begins proclaiming the gospel and incurs the wrath of the Damascus Jews. He escapes from the city and returns to Jerusalem. Saul probably took different routes to and from Damascus that reflect the changes that he had undergone. On the way to Damascus, he probably avoided going through Samaria. He probably crossed over to the East bank of the Jordan around Jericho and then returned to the West bank around Scythopolis. At the Southern end of the Sea of Galilee he probably crossed the Jordan again before proceeding in a Northeasterly direction to Damascus. This route would have served three purposes: avoid Samaria; avoid the deserts; and keep the hilly terrain to a minimum. On the way back to Jerusalem he probably went by a hillier route, crossing the Jordan North of the Sea of Galilee. Then to keep contact with Jews to a minimum, he probably went through Samaria and finally to Jerusalem. There he meets the leaders of the early church and is befriended by Barnabas. Saul begins proclaiming Jesus in Jerusalem and some Jews again plot to kill him. He is then sent to Caesarea—where if you remember Philip is—and from there to his hometown Tarsus.

Something happened to Saul on that road to Damascus that changed him from a persecutor of the church to a defender of the faith. We will dig deep to uncover what happened to Saul. But first let us hear the text for today. I have asked Clem to read the text for us.

Thanks Clem.

Do you know that there is a similarity between Jesus and Judas? Both of them died hanging from a tree. Given what we know about Judas what would you say if you met someone who claimed that Judas was God’s deliverer? Would you nod your head politely, thinking all the while, “This person’s quite insane”? Or would you present objections to this person’s claims and try to convince him that his claims were faulty? Or would you initiate legal proceedings against this person for holding such a belief? This final option seems quite unlikely. After all, we live in a country where the freedom to adhere to one’s beliefs is upheld. The church and state travel parallel tracks that do not meet. But what if you were living in a country where religion and politics are knit together in a bond somewhat like marriage? And what if the measure of both your faith and your patriotism depended on your taking precisely such a drastic measure as Saul did?

If you can imagine what such a world would be like, you will have, at least in part, entered the world of Saul of Tarsus. A practicing Pharisee, Saul was educated by Gamaliel, whom we read about in Acts 5. The attitude of patience toward the church that Gamaliel advocates seems to indicate that he belonged to the school of the Rabbi Hillel, a liberal Pharisee, who was the founder of one of the two main branches of Pharisaism in the first century.

Like any good student, Saul did not agree with his teacher on all counts. And the issue of leniency toward blasphemers was one of the issues over which he disagreed. Blasphemers should be dealt with as suggested in Torah—killed by stoning. And so Saul supervised the stoning of Stephen. Over this issue Saul agreed with the more conservative school of Rabbi Shammai than with the school of Hillel. It is quite possible that the leniency of the Hillelites fit poorly with the zeal he had for God’s truth. He quite probably went over to the school of Shammai.

But why did Saul think that the early Christians were blasphemers? In the sermon on Stephen, we saw that because Jesus died on the cross, he was evidently under the curse of Deuteronomy 21.23. Saul would have known about the manner in which Jesus had died. He also would have heard from other Pharisees that Jesus had been doing miracles by the power of Satan. That is, after all, an accusation leveled against Jesus by the Pharisees in the Gospels. To Saul, therefore, Jesus was a sorcerer, a magician, a messenger of the prince of darkness, who was deceiving the Jews so as to worship demons rather than God. And Deuteronomy 21.18-23 is clear about what should be done to such people. They were to be put to death on a tree.

So Saul concluded that Jesus was under the curse of Deuteronomy 21.23 because he had tried to lead the Jews away from worshipping God. According to Saul, God had vindicated himself by putting Jesus to death.

But along comes this bunch of Galileans—uneducated, untrained, and unsophisticated. And they were saying that this Jesus was alive and they were doing miracles like Jesus. So Saul concluded, if Jesus had been working with Satan, surely his disciples also were. And they were lying about what God did to Jesus. After all, if Jesus was under God’s curse how could he be alive? And how could he have been God’s deliverer? That was absurd. God’s deliverer was to be victorious over the enemies of Israel, but Jesus was put to death by Pontius Pilate, an official of the enemy. Jesus could not have been God’s deliverer. He was only a seducer of God’s people. He deserved to die. And the followers of Jesus also deserved to die because, like Jesus, they were lying about God.

It is in light of such thinking that we should see Saul’s persecution of the church. He was not an evil man. He was not killing for pleasure. His persecution was not sadistic or malicious. Rather, he was being as true as one could get to Deuteronomy 21.23.

With such zeal he gets a warrant for the arrest of the Christians in Damascus. Now on Saul’s way from Jerusalem to Damascus, something happens to him that changes his perspective completely. He sees a bright light, is blinded by it, and hears a voice that asks him, “Why do you persecute me?” Saul responds with a question, “Who are you, Lord?” to which the voice replies, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” A very brief exchange between Saul and Jesus but one so filled with power that the way in which Saul viewed the world changed.

“Who are you, Lord?” This is Saul’s question. During his ministry, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do people say that I am?” Saul gets at the same issue but from a different angle. Jesus’ question starts with the knowledge of Jesus and then moves to identify him in terms of known categories—a prophet, or Elijah, or Messiah. Saul’s question starts by acknowledging that the person addressing him was Lord and then associates a name with the office. This difference is crucial. Let me explain. During his ministry, Jesus’ disciples had full access to him. They knew his habits, his manner of speaking, the things he did, and the way he treated others. Given this knowledge of him, he was asking his disciples to fit him into a known category. Soon after Peter says that Jesus is the Messiah, Jesus rebukes him for not understanding the Messiah’s call. In other words, even the office of Messiah, into which we think Jesus perfectly fits, was not so clearly defined as to fully describe Jesus. Jesus, one could say, was a square peg in a world filled with circular holes. In fact, no human can be adequately described by predetermined categories. Therefore, we should avoid labeling people for a label produces a one-dimensional caricature, not a whole human.

In contrast to the disciples, Saul starts with the confession that the person addressing him was Lord. Saul had identified the hole correctly. He now had to find the peg that fit. Saul could not have started where the disciples did. After all, he had no personal knowledge of Jesus. All his information was hearsay. He could only start by identifying the role. But what did he see? What made him conclude that the person talking to him was Lord? And what did it mean to say that someone was Lord?

Luke actually provides us with this information in Saul’s words. But after twenty centuries of Christianity we have become blind to it. Luke tells us that, after Ananias ministered to him, Saul began to proclaim that Jesus is the Son of God.

Now the phrase ‘Son of God’ is a title. And it does not imply deity. In the Old Testament, the Israelite king was called ‘son of God.’ Prime examples are 2 Samuel 7.14 and Psalm 2.7. Israel itself is called ‘son of God.’ Hosea 11.1 is one example. In other words, ‘son of God’ refers either to God’s king, or to God’s people, or to both.

Here a word of explanation is in order. I affirm Jesus’ full deity. At the same time I also insist that Jesus’ deity rests not on the title ‘Son of God’ but on the witness of the earliest Christians that he revealed God perfectly. In other words, Jesus is God but not because Jesus is called ‘Son of God.’ We should resist the temptation of reading into the New Testament concepts that were hammered out during the ecumenical councils of the 4th and 5th centuries. That would not only be irresponsible, but would obscure what scripture is attempting to tell us.

So by calling Jesus ‘Son of God’, Saul was saying that Jesus was God’s king and an essential part of God’s people. Being an essential part of God’s people meant not being under God’s curse.

So let’s go back to Saul’s question: Who are you, Lord? By identifying the person speaking to him as ‘Lord’ Saul was identifying the person as king. But more importantly, because Saul was a member of God’s people, he was saying that the person addressing him was Israel’s king. The person was at the right hand of God and was reigning over the world. The person was God’s anointed one or Messiah.

Can you imagine what Saul felt when he saw the heavenly vision? In Isaiah 6, we hear of Isaiah’s vision of God sitting on the throne of heaven. Isaiah did not plan the vision any more than Saul did. Rather, just as heaven opened up to Isaiah, heaven opened up to Saul. Both of them were, as it were, summoned into the throne room of the universe to catch a glimpse of the real situation. Isaiah recognized Yahweh as the one on the throne.

Saul, however, grasped for a name by which to call the king. “Who are you, Lord?” or “I know you are king. But what is your name?” And given that in the bible one’s name reflects one’s character, Saul was asking, “What is your character?” or in context, “What kind of a king are you?”

“What kind of a king are you?” Why did Saul have to ask this? What did he see that was shaking him? Luke provides us with no clues. But in order to explain Saul’s transformation from one who inflicted suffering on others to one who desired to suffer with Jesus and for Jesus, I believe there is only one answer. Saul saw something similar to what John saw in Revelation 5. In that vision God holds the scroll of history and asks for someone worthy to come and open it—that is, put history into motion. Initially no one is deemed worthy and John begins to weep. Then an angel tells him, “Do not weep. See, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has conquered, so that he can open the scroll and its seven seals.” John turns to look. But, instead of seeing a fierce lion, roaring loudly, and spreading terror, he sees a slain lamb standing before God. A weak slain lamb held the authority to unveil history.

I believe Saul saw something like this vision. He saw someone at the right hand of God who could only be God’s king. But—and this is crucial—this person bore the marks of crucifixion!

“Who are you?” he asks. “This does not fit my picture of a king. Yet this one is a king. What kind of a king is this? How does he rule and conquer?” And the answer stared him in the face: This is a king who has conquered by dying willingly for others—a strange way to rule, an absurd way to conquer. What could Saul do? His theology and his experience clashed. His doctrine said that God’s king would vanquish God’s enemies and kill them. His vision said that God’s king vanquished God’s enemies by letting them kill him. Something had to give. The conflict between theology and experience was tearing him apart.

Now I have often heard Christians say that we cannot base our theology on experience. I have heard them say that we move from doctrine to practice. But here we have a valuable corrective because Saul surrenders his theology in light of his experience. His vision altered his doctrine. Many of us might feel uncomfortable with this. But if we believe in a God who reveals himself with wisdom that seems foolish and strength that seems weak then we cannot have it any other way! After all, to believe that God reveals himself is to believe that apart from this revelation we would be ignorant of God.

At the same time, it does not mean that experience always holds sway. As I just said, we have here a valuable corrective—something that brings the issue back into balance. Theology and experience are two sides of the same coin that comprises faith. There may be times when we need to hold on dearly to our theology despite all evidence to the contrary in our experience. And at times our experience might be so strong as to require a change in theology. Theology and experience are not related in a static one-directional manner. Rather, it is a dynamic two-way street with each affecting the other.

Now we don’t have to be ashamed that, at times, we rely on our experiences. That would be a cause for shame only if we assumed, as the heirs of the Enlightenment incorrectly assumed, that thought is the highest capacity of humans. That is blatantly unscriptural because according to Genesis 1 the highest capacity of humans is to imitate God.

And this is what changes Saul. In his vision he sees that God was quite pleased with his king. Otherwise, God would not have exalted the king to his right hand. This means, of course, that God had declared that his king had perfectly imitated him.

So Saul asks, “Who are you?” It is not enough to know that God’s king has conquered by dying, that God’s character is revealed most clearly in the submission of the king to undeserved death. The identity of this king is all-important. “What is your name?” is what Saul asks and Jesus tells Saul his name. Yeshua. That is Jesus’ name in Hebrew. And it means Yahweh is the Deliverer. Jesus’ name encapsulates his role. He is the one through whom Yahweh delivers his people. And the deliverance comes through his death.

Having received this revelation, Saul is left with it—and only it—for three days. He is blinded so that the vision could work on him. For if he had been able to see, the things he saw—primarily the fact that the Romans still ruled over the Jews—would have distracted him from the vision and made him doubt its veracity. Three days of sheer darkness that nevertheless shone a bright light on the way things really were. Jesus was alive! He was God’s king. But what about the crucifixion? What about the curse of Deuteronomy 21.23? And Saul then realized why Stephen died as he did, why he was able to forgive even as he was being killed. Jesus, by virtue of his innocence, had placed himself under the curse—and had transformed it into a blessing. Death was now not something to be feared. Rather, death was but a doorway to Jesus’ presence. Indeed, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. That was what enabled Stephen to die in faith. And what fruit his death produced!

In the first sermon on Acts I had said that the decision to find a replacement for Judas was wrong. I had said that Jesus had a twelfth apostle in mind. That is what Stephen’s death made possible. Saul, Jesus’ twelfth apostle, first encountered Jesus in the death of Stephen. At the time, he viewed this willingness to die as a crutch, a sign of weakness. However, when Jesus showed him that it was through this weakness that he had conquered, Saul became Jesus’ twelfth apostle. Like Isaiah who, upon receiving the vision of Yahweh on the throne, was sent with a mission, so Saul, upon receiving the vision of Jesus on the throne, was sent with a mission.

So what does all this mean for us today? Jesus still sends people, and in this sense we could say some people have apostolic ministries. But there are only twelve apostles of the original kind. At the same time, there is much to be done. Large parts of the world are non-Christian or nominally Christian.

Later in Acts Saul—then called Paul—says that he was not disobedient to the heavenly vision. Now you and I may not feel called to be great evangelists as Paul was. But have you received any such vision? Has God shown you something? Is some concern gnawing at you? Do you lose sleep over it? Does it occupy your waking thoughts? If so, I urge you to share the vision. You never know who else will catch the vision and fly with you. You never know if your vision is only a part of a larger vision.

And if you haven’t received a vision, it does not mean that life goes on as usual without any change on your part. All of us can ask ourselves a few questions. Why don’t we all just demonstrate more love instead of being torn apart by hatred or indifference? Why don’t we share both our joys and sorrows rather than being afraid of appearing vulnerable? Why don’t we actively work to bring peace instead of supporting explicitly or implicitly all sorts of violence and war? Can we not act with patience rather than in haste? Why haven’t we treated each other with kindness instead of being rude? Why do we not consider the welfare of others before ours instead of looking out for number one? Why don’t we exercise self-control rather than be tossed about by every fickle fad? Why would anyone want to be like us when we are no different from most others?