Between acts
Commentary
What do you do between Act 2 and Act 3 of a performance? That depends upon who you are.
If you are like me, then you have attended a great many more shows, plays, and performances than you have participated in. And, as members of the audience, the time between acts is an intermission -- an opportunity to stretch your legs, to use the restroom, to enjoy some refreshments.
If you have ever been part of the stage crew for some performance, however, then you understand the minutes between acts quite differently. It is not a casual and relaxing time. On the contrary, it is a period marked by hustle and hard work. There's a clear sense of what needs to be done -- moved, changed, turned, or whatever else -- in order to be prepared for the next act, and the stage crew member who decides that intermission would be a good time to use the restroom and get a drink will not keep his job for long.
As followers of Christ, we are not invited to be mere spectators. We find ourselves living in the meantime -- in the minutes between God's great acts -- and one of these days, we know that the curtain will suddenly go up, and the Star of the show will make his grand entrance for the Final Act. Our job is not to stretch our legs, get a cold drink, and wait it out. Our job is to make sure that the stage is set and everything is prepared for what and who is to come.
Acts 7:55-60
This scene opens with a reference to the Holy Spirit.
At a human level, that is of course characteristic of the author, Luke. He is more attentive to the Holy Spirit as a theme than any of the other gospel writers (compare, for example, Matthew 7:11 and Luke 11:13), and Luke uses the phrase "filled with the Holy Spirit" ten times in his gospel and in Acts.
Meanwhile, at a spiritual level, the phenomenon doesn't trace back to Luke; he is just the one most deliberately reporting it. Rather, there is this presence and activity of the Holy Spirit, and that is especially central to the story of Acts. Indeed, many have suggested that the book might be more appropriately titled "The Acts of the Holy Sprit" than "The Acts of the Apostles."
See the snapshot of this particular scene in your mind's eye. Freeze the picture and zoom in to get a closer look at the faces. Where do you see peace and where do you see agitation? Where do you see hands raised up in a kind of desperate self-defense and where do you see a placid strength?
On the one hand, you have a crowd with fistfuls of stones. On the other hand, you have an innocent victim, harassed, defenseless, and facing a gruesome execution. Yet it is the crowd that is agitated. They are the ones raising their hands to cover their ears. Stephen, by contrast, seems very much at peace. He makes no apparent effort to resist them or to defend himself. His effort is only to bear witness to Christ and to pray for his tormentors' forgiveness. Stephen puts flesh and blood on that magnificent line from Charles Wesley's hymn: "Happy, if with my latest breath I may but gasp his name, preach him to all and cry in death, 'Behold, behold the Lamb!' " (Charles Wesley, "Jesus! The Name High Over All").
We know the look of the child who, in a tantrum, refuses to listen. He covers his ears, stamps his feet, and wails, "I'm not listening to you!" or "I can't hear you!" That is the look of Stephen's persecutors. They find his words intolerable, unbearable, and so they cover their ears, shout loudly, and hurry to shut him up. But the Word of God cannot be shut up (see Jeremiah 20:9; 2 Timothy 2:9). It cannot be contained within an individual; and then, much to the consternation of its opponents, even after that individual is silenced, the Word of God still cannot be contained.
The great dramatic irony of the scene, of course, is the figure of the young man with the coats draped at his feet. Little did that indignant and bloodthirsty mob know that, while they rushed to silence one voice for Christ, perhaps the man who would become his greatest evangelist was standing there in their midst. He observed, approved, and emulated their zealous persecution. Within a few years, however, that same man would be spanning the Mediterranean proclaiming the same Jesus whose name and whose message that crowd found intolerable.
For preaching purposes, this passage can be taken in several directions. First, there is the theme of the Holy Spirit's activity -- both within history, within the early church, and within an individual's life -- that could be explored in light of Stephen's story and example. Second, there is the character Stephen himself: initially designated to do a seemingly less important work (Acts 6:1-5), and yet in the end, a tremendous witness and example, the first Christian martyr, and the person who has the longest recorded sermon in the book of Acts. Third, there is the response of the crowd: Why does the affirmation of Christ at the right hand of God, both then and now, evoke such violent opposition? And, fourth, there is the story of Saul, pondering what long-term influence this episode may have had on him (see, for example, 2 Timothy 4:16).
1 Peter 2:2-10
Mother's milk. It is, I suppose, the most natural thing in the world. As my wife and I read and learned about breastfeeding when our children were born, we were continually amazed by the beauty of the whole design. How this brand new baby, who didn't know anything, knew what to do when she was put on her mother's breast. How everything that she needed -- and would need for some months -- was contained in that simple, natural formula. How nutrition, comfort, and relationship all came together in a single act. Beautiful.
Meanwhile, our ten-year-old daughter was at an extended family event recently, and one of her aunts offered her a taste of coffee. The aunt is a real coffee lover -- even a bit of a coffee snob -- and so she was sharing with our daughter one of her great pleasures in life. When our daughter tasted it, however, she did not see the appeal. Her aunt read her reaction on her face, and replied, "It's an acquired taste."
So it is that the newborn is so naturally drawn to its mother's perfect milk. And so it is that, as we age, we acquire so many other tastes -- some of them quite unhealthy for us.
One wonders what Peter's congregation had acquired tastes for. What imperfect, impure, ultimately undesirable things they desired and consumed. Whatever they were, Peter wanted to see them return to what's best -- a spiritual version of the pure and perfect mother's milk.
We, and our congregations, would be well served to consider the same question. What unhealthy tastes have we acquired? What do we consume that is so far removed from the pure spiritual milk God has for us?
Next, that exhortation to desire spiritual milk leads Peter into an inspired and poetic invitation to the Lord himself. Here is where the passage becomes a theological statement about the person and work of Christ.
The primary imagery of the passage is stones. If you have a teaching or expository style of preaching, then this Sunday's sermon may be found in the development of that one theme. We'll look more carefully at some of the options involved here below.
In the end, Peter references four different Old Testament texts in this brief passage. Verse 6 quotes from Isaiah 28:16. Verse 7 comes from Psalm 118:22. Verse 8 cites Isaiah 8:14, and verse 10 recalls Hosea 1:9-10. All of this is in addition to verse 9, which is full of images that find elaboration and meaning in Old Testament texts about Israel and Levi.
This tapestry of Old Testament references -- whether by direct quote or by borrowed imagery -- reminds us of several realities within the early church and its preaching.
First, its text, its scripture, was the Old Testament, not the New. In the modern American church, the Old Testament is so often dismissed as outdated, irrelevant, even replaced. We do well to remember that the apostles managed to preach the gospel from the law, the prophets, and the writings.
Second, the early church understood both itself and Jesus in light of the Old Testament. Where we get our understanding of "church" has a tremendous influence on where our churches struggle and what our churches become. Do we operate out of a paradigm of what we're used to, or what we grew up with? Do we borrow our understanding from the business world, or from a marketing and advertising age? The early church understood itself in light of Old Testament paradigms -- holy priesthood, spiritual sacrifices, chosen race, royal priesthood, holy nation, and such. Our congregations may need to be reacquainted with those truths.
Third, the early church employed a hermeneutic that was perfectly willing to excerpt a single verse here and there in order to illustrate a point. This should not, I think, be confused with proof-texting. They were under no pressure -- particularly in the latter first-century as the church's chief opponent became not the Jews but the pagan Romans -- to manipulate scripture to their purposes. Rather, they readily welcomed as being from God any text or phrase from scripture that seemed to be given new and fuller meaning by Christ.
John 14:1-14
Here is a favorite passage of scripture for so many people. Or, perhaps more accurately, here in this one passage are found three different favorite passages -- favorites for different people and for different occasions.
First, here is a favorite passage for funeral services. After Psalm 23, I suppose the early verses of John 14 are the ones I have most often had grieving family members request to have read at their loved one's funeral. We cherish the image of Jesus preparing a place for us, and the promise that he will "come again and take (us) to (himself)."
Second, here is a favorite passage for evangelism and for discussions of Christology. For starters, there is another of the "I am" statements of Jesus that are so central to the Gospel of John: "I am the way, the truth, and the life." Follow several significant claims of Christ about his identity with the Father: no one comes to the Father but through him, whoever has seen him has seen the Father, and he is in the Father and the Father is in him.
Finally, here is a favorite passage for prayer. Jesus boldly promises that "I will do whatever you ask in my name" and "if in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it." To the skeptical observer, it seems like a reckless kind of statement. To the earnest petitioner, however, it is the very fuel of faith.
Charles Spurgeon, the great nineteenth-century preacher, offers helpful insight into this seemingly blank check signed by Jesus. "Does the text mean what it says? I never knew my Lord to say anything he did not mean ... mind you, he does not say to all men, 'I will give you whatever you ask.' That would be an unkind kindness. But he speaks to his disciples who have already received great grace at his hands. It is to disciples he commits this marvelous power of prayer." (Charles Spurgeon, The Power of Prayer in a Believer's Life [Lynnwood, Washington: Emerald Books, 1993], p. 35)
In the end, of course, there is something very right about this combination of favorite Bible verses. It is right that these things should be all woven together: who Jesus is in relation to the Father, in relation to us, what we can do for him, what he can do through us, and all that he and the Father have in store. While the familiar verses in this passage may be siphoned off individually for their own use and meaning, they are best understood all together, for they are part of a natural whole. We cannot properly separate our Christology from our hope of heaven, on the one hand, nor from our faith on earth, on the other.
Application
Our lections for this week prompt us to think about life in the meantime: life lived in service to Christ between acts.
In John, we see him on the verge of his exit. He tells his followers that he is about to go, and that he is going to come back, and, thanks to Stephen's vision in the book of Acts, meanwhile, we catch a brief glimpse of where he has gone: "I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!" Stephen's testimony brings to mind the familiar words of the Apostles' Creed -- he "sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty" -- and what follows -- "from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead."
Bob Kauflin sets the two acts side by side in his song, "In The First Light." View the lyrics at www.cybertime.net/~ajgood/firstlight.html.
We live between those acts, preparing and setting the stage for his return. We see that we are empowered and encouraged in that work by Jesus himself: "The one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father."
We also see in Peter's epistle something of our job description. Words like "royal," "priesthood," "holy," and "chosen" signify the purposeful and differentiated existence to which we are called. These are not the terms that belong to spectators in the lobby. These make up the calling of people with serious and urgent work to do.
We see in Stephen the look of that service. Here is where the stage crew metaphor breaks down, for the analogy only speaks to our timing and purpose, not to our experience. For as long as we are in this world, we are opposed. This stage violently resists being set.
Yet, in the face of all that, we also see our reward. Stephen saw it, and we sense it in his face and in his words. And, Jesus promised it to his disciples: the stage that he himself is setting and the preparation that he is making for us! Such a way for the star to spend this intermission!
An Alternative Application
1 Peter 2:2-10. We noted above that this passage from 1 Peter makes much use of the image of stones. In fact, it becomes an extended metaphor, and we might explore the depth of what Peter is saying by identifying the different relationships to "the stone" that Peter suggests here. That stone represents Jesus, and that is a relationship worth considering.
First, there is God's relationship to the stone. It is precious to him, established by him, and central to his work and purpose in the world.
Second, there is the relationship to the stone of those who oppose it. They try to reject it, though they find futility in fighting God's own purpose. (The persecutors of Stephen are a good example of that useless opposition.) And more than rejecting it, it becomes "a stone that makes them stumble, and a rock that makes them fall."
In his 1985 album, Scandalon, Michael Card provocatively considers this text, as well as our contemporary situation: Check out the lyrics at www.lyricz.net/C/Card+Michael/89098/.
Third, there is the relationship to the stone of those who "come to him." To us, as to God, he is precious. By coming to him, we ourselves are "built into a spiritual house," and so, in direct contrast to those who futilely oppose what God is doing, it is our privilege to be incorporated into what God is doing.
Finally, in addition to the multi-level references to stones and rocks within the confines of this passage, there are several other points that you may want to employ, whether in the sermon, in the hymns, or in the scripture readings and liturgy.
First, there is the long-standing tradition of identifying God with a rock (see, for example, Psalm 18:2, 46; 31:3; 61:2; 62:2). It is an image that conveys strength, stability, and protection.
Second, there is the irony that, in the Acts passage, stones become the weapon of choice in trying to silence Stephen. Thus, on the one hand, you have the stone chosen by God and made the cornerstone. On the other hand, you have the small and destructive stones chosen by the antagonists. One is established with purpose, while the others are flung in anger. One is built upon, while the others are scattered. One endures, while the others are dust.
Third, there is the personal component involved in all of this imagery for Peter. Here is the one who grew up as "Simon," but who was renamed by his Lord "Peter," which means "rock." One cannot ignore how central and significant the imagery Peter employs here must have been to him personally.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16
"Into your hand I commit my spirit ..." These words from verse 5 of Psalm 31 will forever be burned into our consciousness as the last words Jesus speaks from the cross in Luke 23:46. We are not so familiar with the words the psalmist speaks immediately after, completing the sentence: "you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God."
That Jesus could pray these words from the cross, the place of his capital punishment -- seemingly, the most irredeemable of human dilemmas -- speaks of the depth and invincibility of his faith. "You have redeemed me," he declares, long before any tangible sign of his redemption is present.
As for the psalmist, we are not so certain of his particular circumstances. The psalter attributes this psalm to David, who, in his early years as a guerrilla commander, escaped from more death-defying scrapes than most of us could imagine. The first sentence embodies the message of the poem: "In you, O Lord, I seek refuge." In the next verse, we learn what this refuge looks like. Appropriately enough for a military man in the days before flying machines, his ideal refuge is a fortress built atop a rocky crag, impregnable and strong.
Later in the psalm -- in a portion not chosen for the lectionary reading -- we learn of another element of the psalmist's trouble:
... I am in distress;
my eye wastes away from grief,
my soul and body also.
For my life is spent with sorrow,
and my years with sighing;
my strength fails because of my misery,
and my bones waste away.
-- Psalm 31:9-10
If the author is indeed David, then the writer of this psalm is not likely the vigorous young warrior, reveling in his strength and power. He is more like the slow-moving old soldier who pops an anti-arthritis pill, dons his faded uniform cap, and wires a paper poppy into his lapel, before stepping out for the Veterans' Day parade. There is pride, yes, but there is also a persistent sadness (maybe even post-traumatic stress disorder?). "I have passed out of mind like one who is dead; I have become like a broken vessel" (v. 12). He wonders if anyone even remembers, even understands, what his generation -- surely "the greatest" -- went through in their day. In verse 13 we learn that the author fears he is the subject of plots, real or imagined -- not an unreasonable fear, if the author is indeed King David. In a burst of trust (vv. 15-16), the author exclaims that his times continue to be in the Lord's hands. He is confident that, in the providence of the God who has guided him this far, everything will come out all right.
The closing verse of this psalm (again, beyond the boundaries of the lectionary selection, but worth considering for what light it shines on the preceding verses) is, "Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord" (v. 24). The closing sentiment, in other words, is, "Hang in there." Often, we say that sort of thing to a suffering acquaintance, without thinking much about it -- much like the vacuous "Have a nice day." Yet the writer of this psalm knows whereof he speaks. The Lord has saved him in the past, and he's confident the Lord will do so in the future. He knows that if he is patient, God will come through.
If you are like me, then you have attended a great many more shows, plays, and performances than you have participated in. And, as members of the audience, the time between acts is an intermission -- an opportunity to stretch your legs, to use the restroom, to enjoy some refreshments.
If you have ever been part of the stage crew for some performance, however, then you understand the minutes between acts quite differently. It is not a casual and relaxing time. On the contrary, it is a period marked by hustle and hard work. There's a clear sense of what needs to be done -- moved, changed, turned, or whatever else -- in order to be prepared for the next act, and the stage crew member who decides that intermission would be a good time to use the restroom and get a drink will not keep his job for long.
As followers of Christ, we are not invited to be mere spectators. We find ourselves living in the meantime -- in the minutes between God's great acts -- and one of these days, we know that the curtain will suddenly go up, and the Star of the show will make his grand entrance for the Final Act. Our job is not to stretch our legs, get a cold drink, and wait it out. Our job is to make sure that the stage is set and everything is prepared for what and who is to come.
Acts 7:55-60
This scene opens with a reference to the Holy Spirit.
At a human level, that is of course characteristic of the author, Luke. He is more attentive to the Holy Spirit as a theme than any of the other gospel writers (compare, for example, Matthew 7:11 and Luke 11:13), and Luke uses the phrase "filled with the Holy Spirit" ten times in his gospel and in Acts.
Meanwhile, at a spiritual level, the phenomenon doesn't trace back to Luke; he is just the one most deliberately reporting it. Rather, there is this presence and activity of the Holy Spirit, and that is especially central to the story of Acts. Indeed, many have suggested that the book might be more appropriately titled "The Acts of the Holy Sprit" than "The Acts of the Apostles."
See the snapshot of this particular scene in your mind's eye. Freeze the picture and zoom in to get a closer look at the faces. Where do you see peace and where do you see agitation? Where do you see hands raised up in a kind of desperate self-defense and where do you see a placid strength?
On the one hand, you have a crowd with fistfuls of stones. On the other hand, you have an innocent victim, harassed, defenseless, and facing a gruesome execution. Yet it is the crowd that is agitated. They are the ones raising their hands to cover their ears. Stephen, by contrast, seems very much at peace. He makes no apparent effort to resist them or to defend himself. His effort is only to bear witness to Christ and to pray for his tormentors' forgiveness. Stephen puts flesh and blood on that magnificent line from Charles Wesley's hymn: "Happy, if with my latest breath I may but gasp his name, preach him to all and cry in death, 'Behold, behold the Lamb!' " (Charles Wesley, "Jesus! The Name High Over All").
We know the look of the child who, in a tantrum, refuses to listen. He covers his ears, stamps his feet, and wails, "I'm not listening to you!" or "I can't hear you!" That is the look of Stephen's persecutors. They find his words intolerable, unbearable, and so they cover their ears, shout loudly, and hurry to shut him up. But the Word of God cannot be shut up (see Jeremiah 20:9; 2 Timothy 2:9). It cannot be contained within an individual; and then, much to the consternation of its opponents, even after that individual is silenced, the Word of God still cannot be contained.
The great dramatic irony of the scene, of course, is the figure of the young man with the coats draped at his feet. Little did that indignant and bloodthirsty mob know that, while they rushed to silence one voice for Christ, perhaps the man who would become his greatest evangelist was standing there in their midst. He observed, approved, and emulated their zealous persecution. Within a few years, however, that same man would be spanning the Mediterranean proclaiming the same Jesus whose name and whose message that crowd found intolerable.
For preaching purposes, this passage can be taken in several directions. First, there is the theme of the Holy Spirit's activity -- both within history, within the early church, and within an individual's life -- that could be explored in light of Stephen's story and example. Second, there is the character Stephen himself: initially designated to do a seemingly less important work (Acts 6:1-5), and yet in the end, a tremendous witness and example, the first Christian martyr, and the person who has the longest recorded sermon in the book of Acts. Third, there is the response of the crowd: Why does the affirmation of Christ at the right hand of God, both then and now, evoke such violent opposition? And, fourth, there is the story of Saul, pondering what long-term influence this episode may have had on him (see, for example, 2 Timothy 4:16).
1 Peter 2:2-10
Mother's milk. It is, I suppose, the most natural thing in the world. As my wife and I read and learned about breastfeeding when our children were born, we were continually amazed by the beauty of the whole design. How this brand new baby, who didn't know anything, knew what to do when she was put on her mother's breast. How everything that she needed -- and would need for some months -- was contained in that simple, natural formula. How nutrition, comfort, and relationship all came together in a single act. Beautiful.
Meanwhile, our ten-year-old daughter was at an extended family event recently, and one of her aunts offered her a taste of coffee. The aunt is a real coffee lover -- even a bit of a coffee snob -- and so she was sharing with our daughter one of her great pleasures in life. When our daughter tasted it, however, she did not see the appeal. Her aunt read her reaction on her face, and replied, "It's an acquired taste."
So it is that the newborn is so naturally drawn to its mother's perfect milk. And so it is that, as we age, we acquire so many other tastes -- some of them quite unhealthy for us.
One wonders what Peter's congregation had acquired tastes for. What imperfect, impure, ultimately undesirable things they desired and consumed. Whatever they were, Peter wanted to see them return to what's best -- a spiritual version of the pure and perfect mother's milk.
We, and our congregations, would be well served to consider the same question. What unhealthy tastes have we acquired? What do we consume that is so far removed from the pure spiritual milk God has for us?
Next, that exhortation to desire spiritual milk leads Peter into an inspired and poetic invitation to the Lord himself. Here is where the passage becomes a theological statement about the person and work of Christ.
The primary imagery of the passage is stones. If you have a teaching or expository style of preaching, then this Sunday's sermon may be found in the development of that one theme. We'll look more carefully at some of the options involved here below.
In the end, Peter references four different Old Testament texts in this brief passage. Verse 6 quotes from Isaiah 28:16. Verse 7 comes from Psalm 118:22. Verse 8 cites Isaiah 8:14, and verse 10 recalls Hosea 1:9-10. All of this is in addition to verse 9, which is full of images that find elaboration and meaning in Old Testament texts about Israel and Levi.
This tapestry of Old Testament references -- whether by direct quote or by borrowed imagery -- reminds us of several realities within the early church and its preaching.
First, its text, its scripture, was the Old Testament, not the New. In the modern American church, the Old Testament is so often dismissed as outdated, irrelevant, even replaced. We do well to remember that the apostles managed to preach the gospel from the law, the prophets, and the writings.
Second, the early church understood both itself and Jesus in light of the Old Testament. Where we get our understanding of "church" has a tremendous influence on where our churches struggle and what our churches become. Do we operate out of a paradigm of what we're used to, or what we grew up with? Do we borrow our understanding from the business world, or from a marketing and advertising age? The early church understood itself in light of Old Testament paradigms -- holy priesthood, spiritual sacrifices, chosen race, royal priesthood, holy nation, and such. Our congregations may need to be reacquainted with those truths.
Third, the early church employed a hermeneutic that was perfectly willing to excerpt a single verse here and there in order to illustrate a point. This should not, I think, be confused with proof-texting. They were under no pressure -- particularly in the latter first-century as the church's chief opponent became not the Jews but the pagan Romans -- to manipulate scripture to their purposes. Rather, they readily welcomed as being from God any text or phrase from scripture that seemed to be given new and fuller meaning by Christ.
John 14:1-14
Here is a favorite passage of scripture for so many people. Or, perhaps more accurately, here in this one passage are found three different favorite passages -- favorites for different people and for different occasions.
First, here is a favorite passage for funeral services. After Psalm 23, I suppose the early verses of John 14 are the ones I have most often had grieving family members request to have read at their loved one's funeral. We cherish the image of Jesus preparing a place for us, and the promise that he will "come again and take (us) to (himself)."
Second, here is a favorite passage for evangelism and for discussions of Christology. For starters, there is another of the "I am" statements of Jesus that are so central to the Gospel of John: "I am the way, the truth, and the life." Follow several significant claims of Christ about his identity with the Father: no one comes to the Father but through him, whoever has seen him has seen the Father, and he is in the Father and the Father is in him.
Finally, here is a favorite passage for prayer. Jesus boldly promises that "I will do whatever you ask in my name" and "if in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it." To the skeptical observer, it seems like a reckless kind of statement. To the earnest petitioner, however, it is the very fuel of faith.
Charles Spurgeon, the great nineteenth-century preacher, offers helpful insight into this seemingly blank check signed by Jesus. "Does the text mean what it says? I never knew my Lord to say anything he did not mean ... mind you, he does not say to all men, 'I will give you whatever you ask.' That would be an unkind kindness. But he speaks to his disciples who have already received great grace at his hands. It is to disciples he commits this marvelous power of prayer." (Charles Spurgeon, The Power of Prayer in a Believer's Life [Lynnwood, Washington: Emerald Books, 1993], p. 35)
In the end, of course, there is something very right about this combination of favorite Bible verses. It is right that these things should be all woven together: who Jesus is in relation to the Father, in relation to us, what we can do for him, what he can do through us, and all that he and the Father have in store. While the familiar verses in this passage may be siphoned off individually for their own use and meaning, they are best understood all together, for they are part of a natural whole. We cannot properly separate our Christology from our hope of heaven, on the one hand, nor from our faith on earth, on the other.
Application
Our lections for this week prompt us to think about life in the meantime: life lived in service to Christ between acts.
In John, we see him on the verge of his exit. He tells his followers that he is about to go, and that he is going to come back, and, thanks to Stephen's vision in the book of Acts, meanwhile, we catch a brief glimpse of where he has gone: "I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!" Stephen's testimony brings to mind the familiar words of the Apostles' Creed -- he "sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty" -- and what follows -- "from thence he shall come to judge the quick and the dead."
Bob Kauflin sets the two acts side by side in his song, "In The First Light." View the lyrics at www.cybertime.net/~ajgood/firstlight.html.
We live between those acts, preparing and setting the stage for his return. We see that we are empowered and encouraged in that work by Jesus himself: "The one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father."
We also see in Peter's epistle something of our job description. Words like "royal," "priesthood," "holy," and "chosen" signify the purposeful and differentiated existence to which we are called. These are not the terms that belong to spectators in the lobby. These make up the calling of people with serious and urgent work to do.
We see in Stephen the look of that service. Here is where the stage crew metaphor breaks down, for the analogy only speaks to our timing and purpose, not to our experience. For as long as we are in this world, we are opposed. This stage violently resists being set.
Yet, in the face of all that, we also see our reward. Stephen saw it, and we sense it in his face and in his words. And, Jesus promised it to his disciples: the stage that he himself is setting and the preparation that he is making for us! Such a way for the star to spend this intermission!
An Alternative Application
1 Peter 2:2-10. We noted above that this passage from 1 Peter makes much use of the image of stones. In fact, it becomes an extended metaphor, and we might explore the depth of what Peter is saying by identifying the different relationships to "the stone" that Peter suggests here. That stone represents Jesus, and that is a relationship worth considering.
First, there is God's relationship to the stone. It is precious to him, established by him, and central to his work and purpose in the world.
Second, there is the relationship to the stone of those who oppose it. They try to reject it, though they find futility in fighting God's own purpose. (The persecutors of Stephen are a good example of that useless opposition.) And more than rejecting it, it becomes "a stone that makes them stumble, and a rock that makes them fall."
In his 1985 album, Scandalon, Michael Card provocatively considers this text, as well as our contemporary situation: Check out the lyrics at www.lyricz.net/C/Card+Michael/89098/.
Third, there is the relationship to the stone of those who "come to him." To us, as to God, he is precious. By coming to him, we ourselves are "built into a spiritual house," and so, in direct contrast to those who futilely oppose what God is doing, it is our privilege to be incorporated into what God is doing.
Finally, in addition to the multi-level references to stones and rocks within the confines of this passage, there are several other points that you may want to employ, whether in the sermon, in the hymns, or in the scripture readings and liturgy.
First, there is the long-standing tradition of identifying God with a rock (see, for example, Psalm 18:2, 46; 31:3; 61:2; 62:2). It is an image that conveys strength, stability, and protection.
Second, there is the irony that, in the Acts passage, stones become the weapon of choice in trying to silence Stephen. Thus, on the one hand, you have the stone chosen by God and made the cornerstone. On the other hand, you have the small and destructive stones chosen by the antagonists. One is established with purpose, while the others are flung in anger. One is built upon, while the others are scattered. One endures, while the others are dust.
Third, there is the personal component involved in all of this imagery for Peter. Here is the one who grew up as "Simon," but who was renamed by his Lord "Peter," which means "rock." One cannot ignore how central and significant the imagery Peter employs here must have been to him personally.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16
"Into your hand I commit my spirit ..." These words from verse 5 of Psalm 31 will forever be burned into our consciousness as the last words Jesus speaks from the cross in Luke 23:46. We are not so familiar with the words the psalmist speaks immediately after, completing the sentence: "you have redeemed me, O Lord, faithful God."
That Jesus could pray these words from the cross, the place of his capital punishment -- seemingly, the most irredeemable of human dilemmas -- speaks of the depth and invincibility of his faith. "You have redeemed me," he declares, long before any tangible sign of his redemption is present.
As for the psalmist, we are not so certain of his particular circumstances. The psalter attributes this psalm to David, who, in his early years as a guerrilla commander, escaped from more death-defying scrapes than most of us could imagine. The first sentence embodies the message of the poem: "In you, O Lord, I seek refuge." In the next verse, we learn what this refuge looks like. Appropriately enough for a military man in the days before flying machines, his ideal refuge is a fortress built atop a rocky crag, impregnable and strong.
Later in the psalm -- in a portion not chosen for the lectionary reading -- we learn of another element of the psalmist's trouble:
... I am in distress;
my eye wastes away from grief,
my soul and body also.
For my life is spent with sorrow,
and my years with sighing;
my strength fails because of my misery,
and my bones waste away.
-- Psalm 31:9-10
If the author is indeed David, then the writer of this psalm is not likely the vigorous young warrior, reveling in his strength and power. He is more like the slow-moving old soldier who pops an anti-arthritis pill, dons his faded uniform cap, and wires a paper poppy into his lapel, before stepping out for the Veterans' Day parade. There is pride, yes, but there is also a persistent sadness (maybe even post-traumatic stress disorder?). "I have passed out of mind like one who is dead; I have become like a broken vessel" (v. 12). He wonders if anyone even remembers, even understands, what his generation -- surely "the greatest" -- went through in their day. In verse 13 we learn that the author fears he is the subject of plots, real or imagined -- not an unreasonable fear, if the author is indeed King David. In a burst of trust (vv. 15-16), the author exclaims that his times continue to be in the Lord's hands. He is confident that, in the providence of the God who has guided him this far, everything will come out all right.
The closing verse of this psalm (again, beyond the boundaries of the lectionary selection, but worth considering for what light it shines on the preceding verses) is, "Be strong, and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord" (v. 24). The closing sentiment, in other words, is, "Hang in there." Often, we say that sort of thing to a suffering acquaintance, without thinking much about it -- much like the vacuous "Have a nice day." Yet the writer of this psalm knows whereof he speaks. The Lord has saved him in the past, and he's confident the Lord will do so in the future. He knows that if he is patient, God will come through.
