Not only the builders
Commentary
Object:
Take a survey of your congregation. Ask your folks to list their favorite Bible verses. It would be interesting, for starters, to see what percentage comes from the Old Testament. My guess is that the Old Testament would not be represented proportionately -- that is to say, though the Old Testament comprises about two thirds of the Bible, I doubt that it would account for two thirds of our people's favorite verses.
Meanwhile, of the folks who did choose a verse from the Old Testament, I wonder if any would cite Psalm 118:22. Probably not. And yet that seemingly obscure verse from the book of Psalms is arguably one of the favorite verses of the writers of the New Testament.
Five different times Psalm 118:22 appears in the New Testament. Matthew, Mark, and Luke all include the episode from Jesus' ministry when he cited that verse at the conclusion of the parable of the tenants. Peter challenges the members of the council with that provocative verse in Acts 4. And he celebrates the truth of it later in our epistle lection.
The verse considers a certain stone. Though there is no extended metaphor, the guiding image is of a building project. We can imagine the scene, therefore, as the eligible materials are gathered and piled at the work site. Certain men, presumably expert in their craft, are in charge of the whole enterprise. They are the builders, and they evaluate each quarried stone to see whether it is suitable for the project.
All of that would have been standard operating procedure, of course. Under ordinary circumstances we would not presume any crookedness or malevolence on the part of such builders. They would simply try to make the best choices for the project at hand. And, in the course of their work, the psalmist sees one particular stone that those builders rejected.
But then comes the surprising turn of events. "The stone that the builders rejected," the psalmist reports, "has become the chief cornerstone" (Psalm 118:22). It is an improbable ascension from the scrap heap to the spot of greatest prominence, from being left out of the building to occupying the place of greatest significance in that building. What prompted such an unlikely reversal? "This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes" (v. 23).
It is hard to imagine just what the psalmist had in mind when he penned those words a thousand or so years before the time of Christ. But Jesus declared the fulfillment of the psalmist's prophetic words, and Peter reiterated the truth. And now, this week, we may lead our people in considering that stone and the risk of rejecting it.
Acts 7:55-60
Our passage begins with two characteristic Luke-isms. First, he describes Stephen as "being full of the Holy Spirit." Then he reports that Stephen "gazed intently into heaven."
As we read the gospel of Luke and its companion volume, Acts, we recognize how prominent the Holy Spirit is in Luke's narratives. Specifically, that there is no higher recommendation Luke can give a person than to say he or she is filled with the Spirit. Five times in his two books Luke refers to people as "full of the Holy Spirit" and nine times as "filled with the Holy Spirit."
Meanwhile, the Greek word atenizo appears just fourteen times in the New Testament, and twelve of those times it is used by the narrator Luke. He uses it here to characterize Stephen's gaze into heaven, and it suggests no ordinary looking. There are simpler, more common words to describe someone looking or seeing. But Luke chooses this term that suggests a special kind of intensity.
What Stephen sees is astonishing -- perhaps even unprecedented. Several English translations eschew the prepositions "to" and "toward" for the more provocative "into." Stephen "gazed intently into heaven." This is not merely looking upward, you see. Stephen is enjoying a peek into another realm.
Reginald Heber famously sang, "Holy, holy, holy! Though the darkness hide thee; though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see..." ("Holy, Holy, Holy"). That human limitation did not apply to Stephen, however. While by every ordinary measure Stephen was in an unfavorable spot, from where he stood he saw the glory of God. We'll consider that paradox in more detail below.
Meanwhile, what Stephen saw -- and shared -- only exacerbated the anger of the crowd around him. It is hard to have a higher Christology than to assert that Jesus is at the right hand of God. But such an affirmation about Jesus was the last thing this zealous mob wanted to hear. So, in a scene that would seem laughably juvenile if not for its consequences, "they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him."
Then began the stoning. Stephen is known as the first Christian martyr, and this episode recalls the event. At the human level, of course, it is unsettlingly violent and gory. At the same time, however, we see in the midst of it the beauty of faithfulness, boldness, peace, and love.
Luke is generally regarded as the best storyteller of the four gospel writers, and he shows his flair here too. In the midst of a scene that is dominated by the face of Stephen and a faceless mob, Luke momentarily directs our attention to one other individual. "And the witnesses laid their coats," Luke reports, "at the feet of a young man named Saul." That young man is almost incidental to this episode, and yet this episode evidently was not incidental to that young man. Later, Luke will report that "Saul was ravaging the church" (Acts 8:3) and "breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord" (9:1). So it is that the skillful storyteller introduces us to a face in the crowd that seems unimportant in chapter 7, but who becomes inestimably important in most of the chapters that follow.
Finally, James Montgomery, in his profound hymn meditating on the passion and resurrection of Christ, invites us to "learn of Jesus how to die" ("Go To Dark Gethsemane"). We don't have any textual or circumstantial evidence to suggest that Stephen was a witness to Christ's death, and yet this martyr certainly seemed to learn how to die from his Lord. Acts reports two final words from Stephen as he was being stoned to death and they echo two of Jesus' seven last words (see Luke 23:34, 46). If it is right for the followers of Christ to resemble him in how they live, then it should also be expected that they will resemble him in how they die. Stephen did.
1 Peter 2:2-10
Most children and some adults are known to prefer books with pictures. Our selected text from 1 Peter should have that sort of appeal for us and our congregations. For while Peter's epistle was not illustrated, so far as we know, his language is picturesque. Indeed, it might be most effective to study this passage by thinking of ourselves flipping through a picture book.
On the first page, we see a picture of a baby. It connotes innocence and dependence. In its purity, the baby's needs and wants are both identical and few. And prominent among those needs is milk. Peter says that we should be "like newborn babes," with a wholesome appetite for the spiritual milk that is God's word.
Peter quickly turns the page to a new, second picture. This one is a picture of a stone, and the reference to it being "rejected by men" quickly identifies it as the stone of Psalm 118. That stone is not cast aside for long, though, for it was "chosen and precious in God's sight."
The third picture is built quickly upon the second. Now Peter's audience themselves are brought into the picture, as they are encouraged to be "like living stones." The God who chose the aforementioned rejected stone has a larger building project in mind -- "a spiritual house" -- and we may be included in it.
We find ourselves flipping the pages quickly as yet another picture is introduced suddenly: "a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices." It is for Peter a natural extension of the "spiritual house" theme, for the principle is the same. Our opportunity and calling is to become holy and live in the service of God.
Next, Peter returns to the image of the stone and this time he develops it further. He quotes three Old Testament passages about stones (Isaiah 28:16; Psalm 118:22; Isaiah 8:14) to illustrate two principles. First, there is a stone ordained by God and significant in his plan. Second, how a person responds to that stone makes all the difference. Notably, the stone is "precious" to the believer, just as it was "precious in God's sight" earlier.
This matter of how a person responds to this particular stone is central to our theme this week. Jesus is presented by Peter as a kind of watershed. Those who believe and those who do not believe fall on opposite sides of this stone. So it has always been (see John 1:11-12), and so it will always be until the day comes when every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord (Philippians 2:10-11).
The author-illustrator next revisits images of a holy people and a priesthood dedicated in service to God. Yet in the very next moment, there is a recognition that Peter's audience did not begin with such a status. Rather, they were in darkness, but it is by God's gracious call that they have become what they are. Finally, that principle of a people whose status has been changed by God is illustrated by an allusion to Hosea (1:9-10).
This final point is good news indeed. It reminds us that the two groups -- those who believe and those who do not; those who accept the "stone" and those who reject him -- are not innate and they are not permanent. No one really begins on the right side. But by God's grace, we are called and we are changed.
John 14:1-14
In the course of just a few verses, we find some of the most comforting, most challenging, most encouraging, and most troubling words of Jesus. Here is one person's favorite verse juxtaposed with another's least favorite. And it may be that both people will be in my pews and yours this Sunday.
Our gospel lection comes from John's account of the Last Supper. John's account, we observe, dwarfs what we find in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Each of them devotes less than a single chapter to this Holy Week episode, while five of John's 21 chapters are given to that single event.
As Jesus speaks to his disciples on this momentous occasion, he is fully aware of what lies ahead. They, in spite of being forewarned in several times and ways, seem completely surprised by what follows. But because Jesus knows, he addresses them out of that knowledge, offering them hope, perspective, and reassurance.
Interestingly, Jesus' chief concern does not seem to be the suffering that awaits him but rather the loss that awaits his followers. He is aware that he is leaving them and so these chapters are filled with promises about the comfort, power, blessings, and fruitfulness that are ahead for them. And he promises them that he will return.
The cherished words of comfort, so often affirmed during funeral and memorial services, reveal both Jesus' going away and his return. The lovely promises are that he leaves to prepare a place for us, he will come back for us, and we will be with him forever. The passage is so familiar; yet its beauty remains inexpressible, full of love, hope, comfort, and heaven.
For as widely embraced as the first three verses of John 14 are, the next three are not so universally welcome. Jesus makes unique claims about himself that some hearers will find offensive. In some instances, any unique claims would be rejected as too sectarian. In other instances, the concern is for those implicitly left out by Christ's claim.
The juxtaposition of these two passages may reveal the consumerist approach that contemporary American Christians take to scripture. We treat the word of God like a buffet, gladly picking what we like and unapologetically passing on what we do not like. Sometimes folks like to disguise or excuse their pick-and-choose methodology by playing Old Testament against New Testament or Paul against Jesus. But here we have two statements from the same person in the same passage; by what intellectually honest hermeneutic may we highlight the one and scratch out the other?
In truth, of course, Jesus' claims and his promises are natural and inseparable companions. There is always a vital relationship between the content of a promise and the identity of the person who makes it. For the value of any promise, after all, is predicated on the ability of its maker to fulfill it. I could promise my daughter that there will be perfect weather for her wedding day, but such a promise is nearly worthless since I have no ability to determine the weather. On the other hand, if I promise to pay for the expenses of that wedding, the promise has some credibility and value.
As part of our larger conversation this week, we are invited to consider the stone that is Christ. It is, at once, rejected by the builders, a stone of offense, yet uniquely chosen by God. That entire spectrum should be kept in mind when we read and preach these distinctive claims of Christ.
Application
In Psalms, the stone is unidentified. In the New Testament, however, it is plainly proclaimed. Jesus is that stone. We are given two salient facts about him: He was rejected by "the builders," but he was the Lord's ordained choice for the most important component in his project.
When both Jesus and Peter cited that verse from Psalm, they were making a provocative point. Their words condemned the leaders in Jerusalem at that time, for they were understood to be the "builders" who had missed God's plan and purpose. The problem was even more sinister than that: Those leaders had actively opposed the one who was central to the plan and purpose of God.
It is important to understand any biblical text in its original context, of course. But in some cases, it is tempting to leave the text in its original context, lest it become equally provocative for us. Yet Peter's extended discourse on this "stone" forces us to extend the application beyond those Jewish leaders who conspired to have Jesus arrested and killed. Peter challenges us to consider the application to ourselves and to our day.
The psalmist, we recall, said that the stone was rejected by "the builders." In his epistle, however, Peter says that the stone was "rejected by men." And that is where the rubber meets the road for us. Jesus continues to be widely rejected -- by the culture at large and by individuals within it. As in the days of Stephen, they still angrily cover their ears to the proclamation of his name and his truth. Yet he also continues to be the one specially chosen and used by God.
As preachers of the gospel, then, we must not fail to understand what is at stake here. We mustn't let the prevailing winds of the culture around us put us on the wrong side of this watershed stone. Rather, we are unsurprised that he continues to be "a stone of stumbling and a rock of offense," and we remain "bold to confess thy glorious name before a world of foes" ("Jesus! The Name High Over All").
An Alternative Application
Acts 7:55-60. "Patron Saint of Paradox." There came a moment in the evolution of the early church in Jerusalem when the apostles needed to delegate some responsibilities. It was the sort of clarification and definition of roles that every organization requires from time to time. For the sake of efficiency, we need to be clear about who is supposed to do what. The apostles determined that someone else needed to be waiting tables in order that they might devote themselves to the preaching of the word (see Acts 6:1-6). Interestingly, though, it was one of those who were appointed to be table waiters that ended up having the longest sermon recorded in the book of Acts.
His name was Stephen, and almost as soon as Luke reports that the twelve would devote themselves to prayer and the ministry of the word, the story follows Stephen the waiter. He performs miracles, his wisdom is irresistible, and his effectiveness is so intolerable that he becomes the first Christian martyr.
It strikes me as a very lovely paradox that one appointed to wait tables becomes one of the most notable preachers in Acts. Likewise, that one whose assigned role seems so innocuous should become an insufferable force among the enemies of Christ. And 2,000 years later, Stephen's name and reputation exceed all but the most famous of those twelve apostles.
The paradoxes continue into our brief excerpt from Acts. As we noted above, Stephen "gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God." While his opponents would have expected him to see anger and danger, he saw heaven. While they were trying to show him their displeasure, he saw God's glory. And while they were treating him with violence and murder, he prayed for their forgiveness. He is a paradox in the midst of his foes.
The truth, of course, is not actually that these paradoxes belong to Stephen. They belong to God. He, after all, is the one who turned the rejected stone into the most important one of all. Stephen's life and experience bear witness to the divine providence that gives rise to such lovely paradoxes.
Meanwhile, of the folks who did choose a verse from the Old Testament, I wonder if any would cite Psalm 118:22. Probably not. And yet that seemingly obscure verse from the book of Psalms is arguably one of the favorite verses of the writers of the New Testament.
Five different times Psalm 118:22 appears in the New Testament. Matthew, Mark, and Luke all include the episode from Jesus' ministry when he cited that verse at the conclusion of the parable of the tenants. Peter challenges the members of the council with that provocative verse in Acts 4. And he celebrates the truth of it later in our epistle lection.
The verse considers a certain stone. Though there is no extended metaphor, the guiding image is of a building project. We can imagine the scene, therefore, as the eligible materials are gathered and piled at the work site. Certain men, presumably expert in their craft, are in charge of the whole enterprise. They are the builders, and they evaluate each quarried stone to see whether it is suitable for the project.
All of that would have been standard operating procedure, of course. Under ordinary circumstances we would not presume any crookedness or malevolence on the part of such builders. They would simply try to make the best choices for the project at hand. And, in the course of their work, the psalmist sees one particular stone that those builders rejected.
But then comes the surprising turn of events. "The stone that the builders rejected," the psalmist reports, "has become the chief cornerstone" (Psalm 118:22). It is an improbable ascension from the scrap heap to the spot of greatest prominence, from being left out of the building to occupying the place of greatest significance in that building. What prompted such an unlikely reversal? "This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes" (v. 23).
It is hard to imagine just what the psalmist had in mind when he penned those words a thousand or so years before the time of Christ. But Jesus declared the fulfillment of the psalmist's prophetic words, and Peter reiterated the truth. And now, this week, we may lead our people in considering that stone and the risk of rejecting it.
Acts 7:55-60
Our passage begins with two characteristic Luke-isms. First, he describes Stephen as "being full of the Holy Spirit." Then he reports that Stephen "gazed intently into heaven."
As we read the gospel of Luke and its companion volume, Acts, we recognize how prominent the Holy Spirit is in Luke's narratives. Specifically, that there is no higher recommendation Luke can give a person than to say he or she is filled with the Spirit. Five times in his two books Luke refers to people as "full of the Holy Spirit" and nine times as "filled with the Holy Spirit."
Meanwhile, the Greek word atenizo appears just fourteen times in the New Testament, and twelve of those times it is used by the narrator Luke. He uses it here to characterize Stephen's gaze into heaven, and it suggests no ordinary looking. There are simpler, more common words to describe someone looking or seeing. But Luke chooses this term that suggests a special kind of intensity.
What Stephen sees is astonishing -- perhaps even unprecedented. Several English translations eschew the prepositions "to" and "toward" for the more provocative "into." Stephen "gazed intently into heaven." This is not merely looking upward, you see. Stephen is enjoying a peek into another realm.
Reginald Heber famously sang, "Holy, holy, holy! Though the darkness hide thee; though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see..." ("Holy, Holy, Holy"). That human limitation did not apply to Stephen, however. While by every ordinary measure Stephen was in an unfavorable spot, from where he stood he saw the glory of God. We'll consider that paradox in more detail below.
Meanwhile, what Stephen saw -- and shared -- only exacerbated the anger of the crowd around him. It is hard to have a higher Christology than to assert that Jesus is at the right hand of God. But such an affirmation about Jesus was the last thing this zealous mob wanted to hear. So, in a scene that would seem laughably juvenile if not for its consequences, "they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him."
Then began the stoning. Stephen is known as the first Christian martyr, and this episode recalls the event. At the human level, of course, it is unsettlingly violent and gory. At the same time, however, we see in the midst of it the beauty of faithfulness, boldness, peace, and love.
Luke is generally regarded as the best storyteller of the four gospel writers, and he shows his flair here too. In the midst of a scene that is dominated by the face of Stephen and a faceless mob, Luke momentarily directs our attention to one other individual. "And the witnesses laid their coats," Luke reports, "at the feet of a young man named Saul." That young man is almost incidental to this episode, and yet this episode evidently was not incidental to that young man. Later, Luke will report that "Saul was ravaging the church" (Acts 8:3) and "breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord" (9:1). So it is that the skillful storyteller introduces us to a face in the crowd that seems unimportant in chapter 7, but who becomes inestimably important in most of the chapters that follow.
Finally, James Montgomery, in his profound hymn meditating on the passion and resurrection of Christ, invites us to "learn of Jesus how to die" ("Go To Dark Gethsemane"). We don't have any textual or circumstantial evidence to suggest that Stephen was a witness to Christ's death, and yet this martyr certainly seemed to learn how to die from his Lord. Acts reports two final words from Stephen as he was being stoned to death and they echo two of Jesus' seven last words (see Luke 23:34, 46). If it is right for the followers of Christ to resemble him in how they live, then it should also be expected that they will resemble him in how they die. Stephen did.
1 Peter 2:2-10
Most children and some adults are known to prefer books with pictures. Our selected text from 1 Peter should have that sort of appeal for us and our congregations. For while Peter's epistle was not illustrated, so far as we know, his language is picturesque. Indeed, it might be most effective to study this passage by thinking of ourselves flipping through a picture book.
On the first page, we see a picture of a baby. It connotes innocence and dependence. In its purity, the baby's needs and wants are both identical and few. And prominent among those needs is milk. Peter says that we should be "like newborn babes," with a wholesome appetite for the spiritual milk that is God's word.
Peter quickly turns the page to a new, second picture. This one is a picture of a stone, and the reference to it being "rejected by men" quickly identifies it as the stone of Psalm 118. That stone is not cast aside for long, though, for it was "chosen and precious in God's sight."
The third picture is built quickly upon the second. Now Peter's audience themselves are brought into the picture, as they are encouraged to be "like living stones." The God who chose the aforementioned rejected stone has a larger building project in mind -- "a spiritual house" -- and we may be included in it.
We find ourselves flipping the pages quickly as yet another picture is introduced suddenly: "a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices." It is for Peter a natural extension of the "spiritual house" theme, for the principle is the same. Our opportunity and calling is to become holy and live in the service of God.
Next, Peter returns to the image of the stone and this time he develops it further. He quotes three Old Testament passages about stones (Isaiah 28:16; Psalm 118:22; Isaiah 8:14) to illustrate two principles. First, there is a stone ordained by God and significant in his plan. Second, how a person responds to that stone makes all the difference. Notably, the stone is "precious" to the believer, just as it was "precious in God's sight" earlier.
This matter of how a person responds to this particular stone is central to our theme this week. Jesus is presented by Peter as a kind of watershed. Those who believe and those who do not believe fall on opposite sides of this stone. So it has always been (see John 1:11-12), and so it will always be until the day comes when every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord (Philippians 2:10-11).
The author-illustrator next revisits images of a holy people and a priesthood dedicated in service to God. Yet in the very next moment, there is a recognition that Peter's audience did not begin with such a status. Rather, they were in darkness, but it is by God's gracious call that they have become what they are. Finally, that principle of a people whose status has been changed by God is illustrated by an allusion to Hosea (1:9-10).
This final point is good news indeed. It reminds us that the two groups -- those who believe and those who do not; those who accept the "stone" and those who reject him -- are not innate and they are not permanent. No one really begins on the right side. But by God's grace, we are called and we are changed.
John 14:1-14
In the course of just a few verses, we find some of the most comforting, most challenging, most encouraging, and most troubling words of Jesus. Here is one person's favorite verse juxtaposed with another's least favorite. And it may be that both people will be in my pews and yours this Sunday.
Our gospel lection comes from John's account of the Last Supper. John's account, we observe, dwarfs what we find in Matthew, Mark, and Luke. Each of them devotes less than a single chapter to this Holy Week episode, while five of John's 21 chapters are given to that single event.
As Jesus speaks to his disciples on this momentous occasion, he is fully aware of what lies ahead. They, in spite of being forewarned in several times and ways, seem completely surprised by what follows. But because Jesus knows, he addresses them out of that knowledge, offering them hope, perspective, and reassurance.
Interestingly, Jesus' chief concern does not seem to be the suffering that awaits him but rather the loss that awaits his followers. He is aware that he is leaving them and so these chapters are filled with promises about the comfort, power, blessings, and fruitfulness that are ahead for them. And he promises them that he will return.
The cherished words of comfort, so often affirmed during funeral and memorial services, reveal both Jesus' going away and his return. The lovely promises are that he leaves to prepare a place for us, he will come back for us, and we will be with him forever. The passage is so familiar; yet its beauty remains inexpressible, full of love, hope, comfort, and heaven.
For as widely embraced as the first three verses of John 14 are, the next three are not so universally welcome. Jesus makes unique claims about himself that some hearers will find offensive. In some instances, any unique claims would be rejected as too sectarian. In other instances, the concern is for those implicitly left out by Christ's claim.
The juxtaposition of these two passages may reveal the consumerist approach that contemporary American Christians take to scripture. We treat the word of God like a buffet, gladly picking what we like and unapologetically passing on what we do not like. Sometimes folks like to disguise or excuse their pick-and-choose methodology by playing Old Testament against New Testament or Paul against Jesus. But here we have two statements from the same person in the same passage; by what intellectually honest hermeneutic may we highlight the one and scratch out the other?
In truth, of course, Jesus' claims and his promises are natural and inseparable companions. There is always a vital relationship between the content of a promise and the identity of the person who makes it. For the value of any promise, after all, is predicated on the ability of its maker to fulfill it. I could promise my daughter that there will be perfect weather for her wedding day, but such a promise is nearly worthless since I have no ability to determine the weather. On the other hand, if I promise to pay for the expenses of that wedding, the promise has some credibility and value.
As part of our larger conversation this week, we are invited to consider the stone that is Christ. It is, at once, rejected by the builders, a stone of offense, yet uniquely chosen by God. That entire spectrum should be kept in mind when we read and preach these distinctive claims of Christ.
Application
In Psalms, the stone is unidentified. In the New Testament, however, it is plainly proclaimed. Jesus is that stone. We are given two salient facts about him: He was rejected by "the builders," but he was the Lord's ordained choice for the most important component in his project.
When both Jesus and Peter cited that verse from Psalm, they were making a provocative point. Their words condemned the leaders in Jerusalem at that time, for they were understood to be the "builders" who had missed God's plan and purpose. The problem was even more sinister than that: Those leaders had actively opposed the one who was central to the plan and purpose of God.
It is important to understand any biblical text in its original context, of course. But in some cases, it is tempting to leave the text in its original context, lest it become equally provocative for us. Yet Peter's extended discourse on this "stone" forces us to extend the application beyond those Jewish leaders who conspired to have Jesus arrested and killed. Peter challenges us to consider the application to ourselves and to our day.
The psalmist, we recall, said that the stone was rejected by "the builders." In his epistle, however, Peter says that the stone was "rejected by men." And that is where the rubber meets the road for us. Jesus continues to be widely rejected -- by the culture at large and by individuals within it. As in the days of Stephen, they still angrily cover their ears to the proclamation of his name and his truth. Yet he also continues to be the one specially chosen and used by God.
As preachers of the gospel, then, we must not fail to understand what is at stake here. We mustn't let the prevailing winds of the culture around us put us on the wrong side of this watershed stone. Rather, we are unsurprised that he continues to be "a stone of stumbling and a rock of offense," and we remain "bold to confess thy glorious name before a world of foes" ("Jesus! The Name High Over All").
An Alternative Application
Acts 7:55-60. "Patron Saint of Paradox." There came a moment in the evolution of the early church in Jerusalem when the apostles needed to delegate some responsibilities. It was the sort of clarification and definition of roles that every organization requires from time to time. For the sake of efficiency, we need to be clear about who is supposed to do what. The apostles determined that someone else needed to be waiting tables in order that they might devote themselves to the preaching of the word (see Acts 6:1-6). Interestingly, though, it was one of those who were appointed to be table waiters that ended up having the longest sermon recorded in the book of Acts.
His name was Stephen, and almost as soon as Luke reports that the twelve would devote themselves to prayer and the ministry of the word, the story follows Stephen the waiter. He performs miracles, his wisdom is irresistible, and his effectiveness is so intolerable that he becomes the first Christian martyr.
It strikes me as a very lovely paradox that one appointed to wait tables becomes one of the most notable preachers in Acts. Likewise, that one whose assigned role seems so innocuous should become an insufferable force among the enemies of Christ. And 2,000 years later, Stephen's name and reputation exceed all but the most famous of those twelve apostles.
The paradoxes continue into our brief excerpt from Acts. As we noted above, Stephen "gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God." While his opponents would have expected him to see anger and danger, he saw heaven. While they were trying to show him their displeasure, he saw God's glory. And while they were treating him with violence and murder, he prayed for their forgiveness. He is a paradox in the midst of his foes.
The truth, of course, is not actually that these paradoxes belong to Stephen. They belong to God. He, after all, is the one who turned the rejected stone into the most important one of all. Stephen's life and experience bear witness to the divine providence that gives rise to such lovely paradoxes.
