Strategic Moves
Commentary
There is something wonderfully paradoxical about the Christian church. Its origin as a unique social phenomenon clearly dates from the Pentecost events described in Acts 2. Yet, at the same time, Jesus’ disciples, who were at the center of the church from its very beginning, would say that this “new” community of faith was simply part of a centuries-old already existing people of God, stretching back all the way to Abraham and his family. The connection between the old and the new is rooted in several theological axioms.
First, it is built upon the confession that there is a God who created this world and uniquely fashioned the human race with attributes that reflected its maker. Second, through human willfulness the world lost its pristine vitality, and is now caught up in a civil war against its Creator. Third, intruding directly into human affairs for the sake of reclaiming and restoring the world, the Creator began a mission of redemption and renewal through the nation of Israel. Fourth, Israel’s identity as a missional community was shaped by the Suzerain-Vassal covenant formed at Mt. Sinai. Fifth, in order to be most effective in its witness to other nations, Israel was positioned at the crossroads of global societies, and thus received, as its “promised land,” the territory known as Canaan. Sixth, the effectiveness of this divine missional strategy through Israel was most evident in the eleventh century B.C., during the reigns of David and Solomon, when the kingdom grew in size and influence among the peoples of the ancient near east and beyond. Seventh, this missional witness eroded away, almost to oblivion, through a combination of internal failures and external political threats, until most of the nation of Israel was wiped out by the Assyrians, and only a remnant of the tribe of Judah (along with religious leaders from among the Levites, and a portion of the small tribe of Benjamin) retained its unique identity as the people of Yahweh. Eighth, because of the seeming inadequacy of this method of witness, as the human race expanded rapidly, the Creator revised the divine missional strategy, and interrupted human history in a very visible manner again in the person of Jesus. Ninth, Jesus embodied the divine essence, taught the divine will, and went through death and resurrection to establish a new understanding of eschatological hope, which he passed along to his followers as the message to be communicated to the nations. Tenth, Jesus’ teachings about this arriving messianic age were rooted in what the prophets of Israel called the “Day of the Lord,” a time when divine judgment for sins would fall on all nations (including Israel), a remnant from Israel would be spared to become the restored seed community of a new global divine initiative, and the world would be transformed as God had intended for it to be, so that people could again live out their intended purposes and destinies. Eleventh, instead of applying all aspects of this “Day of the Lord” in a single cataclysmic event, Jesus split it in two, bringing the beginnings of eternal blessings while withholding the full impact of divine judgment for a time. Twelfth, the Christian church is God’s new agent for global missional recovery and restoration for the human race, superseding the territorially-bound witness through Israel with a portable and expanding testimony influencing all nations and cultures. Thirteenth, since the “Day of the Lord” is begun but not finished, Jesus will return again to bring its culmination. Fourteenth, the church of Jesus exists in this time between Jesus’ comings as the great divine missional witness.
Each of these themes is implied or explicit in the first two chapters of the book of the Acts of the Apostles. God and sin and the divine mission are all part of the fabric of the narrative, while Israel’s role in the divine mission, along with the changing strategies, is declared openly. Jesus is at the center of all these things, but the unique divine intrusion he brought into the human race is now being withdrawn, as he ascends back to heaven. Now the church must become the ongoing embodiment of Jesus’ life and teachings, so that it may live out the divine mission until the remainder of the “Day of the Lord” arrives when Jesus returns.
Acts 1:1-11
A noted businessman was in high demand on the speakers’ circuit. He had succeeded well in developing a multi-million-dollar enterprise, and now start-ups and entrepreneurial companies sought his advice at their board meetings and planning sessions. While he still guided his growing corporate empire through black bottom-line quarters and overseas expansions, a good portion of his schedule was now devoted to playing the expert as he hobnobbed from one city and market to the next.
Few realized that his insights and public strengths were built substantially on the planning and preparations, behind the scenes, by his long-term administrative assistant. She was skilled and tactful and adaptive and a life-long learner. She had managed to understand his goals and perspectives so well, that she could put him on the right conference seminar speakers’ lists and keep off the ones where he would not shine. She also prepared his travel arrangements and even typed out the rudiments of what he should be presenting at each changing event.
One day he breezed through his office again, making enough noise to appear important, but sticking around only long enough to be on the way to somewhere else where he would be greeted as the honored expert. His administrative assistant handed him travel documents and folders containing all that was necessary for his next venture. He slid these into his satchel quickly, confident that, as always, everything would be in order, and he would have to worry about nothing. Also, as always, he received rather than gave, offering no thanks or appreciation for this woman who essentially made his “good life” possible.
Arriving later at his next board meeting, a high-powered affair where he was surrounded by critically-acclaimed industry leaders, he felt the glow of his honored position. They looked to him for direction. They saw him as a key influencer. They believed he had the words of life that would sustain them and their companies for the next fiscal cycle.
Basking in their affirmations, he stepped to the podium, opened the folder prepared by his administrative assistant, and launched into another brilliant introduction, reflecting his own good sense, but made better by her engaging words. The first page ended with a promise that heaven itself would open in the next thirty-five minutes, and divine revelation would spew generously out of his mouth: “We will now consider these matters under seven headings.”
He turned the page. And froze. In horror. There was only one line on the sheet. It exclaimed, in bold type: “YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN NOW!”
Jesus’ disciples must have felt that way on the day described in Acts 1. Devastated by Jesus’ crucifixion, demoralized by Judas’ betrayal, and scandalized by their own cowardness and ineptitude, these men had deflated to ghosts until the outlandish reality of Jesus’ resurrection made them human and powerful again. Now they were unconquerable. Now the revolution was in sight. Now there was no stopping the kingdom train. “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” they asked Jesus (Acts 1:6). They could see it already—the Romans beaten, those wily Idumean Herodians tossed from Masada’s palace into the Dead Sea, foreigners driven from the land, Samaritans put in their place, and Jews taking over their country as the true remnant of Israel. Fires of expectation and vindication danced in their eyes as they huddled around Jesus. “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”
His response puzzled and terrified them. First, he pricked their inflated pride. “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority,” he told them (Acts 1:7). They had not yet graduated, nor were they privy to all things important.
Second, Jesus affirmed them. “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you,” he promised them (Acts 1:8), linking their lives supernaturally to his own amazing abilities. Having distributed Jesus’ multiplied bread and fish, having walked on the waters of Galilee with him, having cast out demons and healed the sick, these men were drooling at the thought of having power over death itself!
Third, Jesus changed the rules of the game. “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth,” Jesus announced (Acts 1:8). But this was a big turn of strategy! The reason for Canaan to be the homeland of the Israelites was precisely because it was at the center of traffic and commerce in the world. God was Creator of all places and nations. God had chosen Israel to be God’s special ambassadors of this good news, in an age where peoples had generally forgotten their Creator, and played at little allegiances with tiny gods, mirroring their own selfish whims.
Now, suddenly, this spot of real estate, bounded on the east by the Jordan River (along with its Galilee source and Dead Sea drain), on the north by towering Mount Hermon, on the west by the Great Sea (Mediterranean Sea), and on the south by the wilderness wastes, would no longer be the base of operations for Yahweh’s take-back-the-world campaign. Instead of creating a community shaped by the Sinai covenant that would intrigue passers-by into renewed interaction with their Creator, the army of God would now be sent in bands and forays among the nations. The divine mission continued, but centripetal strategy 1 was replaced by centrifugal strategy 2.
Fourth, Jesus left. Just when his disciples thought they could survive any next crisis, the source of their confidence drifted up toward heaven and was gone. “You’re on your own now!” How frightening!
And how empowering! Jesus trusted them! Jesus believed in them! Jesus affirmed their place in the next phase of operations of the divine missional enterprise!
Ephesians 1:15-23
Our ability to see God is quite directly related to our understanding of ourselves. Those who carelessly toss aside human life will never worship God as they stuff blackberries into their mouths. John Calvin started his magnificent survey of the Christian faith, The Institutes of the Christian Religion, by reflecting that our knowledge of ourselves and our knowledge of God are so intertwined that the one has little power to grow without the other.
C. S. Lewis thought of that. He wondered why we humans, who have so much to live for here, might ever be enticed to long for “heaven” or “eternal life.” Often religion turns worship of God into a duty that exacts a tax of begrudging acknowledgment from us. We have to go to church. We must be good. We are obligated to pray.
But such feelings arise from the pagan notion that we can somehow increase the majesty of our tribal god in the clash of worldly power plays. Rather, says Lewis, echoing Paul, it is God’s amazing thoughts about us that make biblical religion special. It is God who creates us in his image. It is God who loves us when we are unlovely. It is God who declares us to be kings and queens. It is God who thinks wonderful thoughts about us, even when we can’t be bothered to think much of ourselves.
When the German prince, George II, became king of Great Britain, he had a special fondness for the music of his fellow countryman, George Frideric Handel. At the premiere concert of Handel’s Messiah in 1743, the king and the crowds were deeply moved by the glory and grace of the masterpiece. When the musicians swelled the “Hallelujah” chorus, and thundered those mighty words, “And He shall reign for ever and ever!” King George (whose English wasn’t all that great) jumped to his feet, thinking they sang of him! The whole crowd followed suit—for a different reason, of course, and a different King!
The comedy of that moment reflects Paul’s words here in Ephesians 1. God in heaven claps his hands and shouts of our greatness. And in the expanding circles of God’s glory, we rise, singing the “Hallelujah” chorus.
Luke 24:44-53
At the close of his gospel, Luke brings one more unique and representative story (Luke 24:13–35). Two people are walking away from Jerusalem after the terrible events of Jesus’ crucifixion. Suddenly they are joined by a man who seems familiar and yet remains a stranger. As they review the sad story of recent days, their fellow traveler, whom Luke has told us is actually the resurrected Jesus, begins to call their attention to the promises of the Old Testament, which somehow illumine both the life of their friend and the recent events that have troubled them. Then, when they enter their village of Emmaus, these two travelers urge Jesus to take a meal and hospitality with them. During time together, while Jesus blesses the bread, they suddenly recognize him, and he disappears. The two quickly retrace their steps to Jerusalem, scurrying to tell the news that they have seen the risen Jesus. Their message is heard with joy by the other disciples, of course.
Immediately the risen Jesus appears in the room, repeating the same things he taught to the two on the road. They are amazed but come to know their friend and Lord and Savior as he eats with them.
Luke seems to have a particular reason for including this tale at the end of his gospel. How would those who were not privileged to live in Palestine during Jesus’ days on earth (like Luke himself, or Luke’s friend Theophilus, to whom this gospel was addressed), ever encounter Jesus? Luke could answer that question from his own experiences: he had found himself seeing Jesus in one special location—the church and its ministries. When the congregation met together to reenact the Last Supper of Jesus with his disciples, Jesus himself was present among them in his post-resurrection, spiritual form. If Luke or Theophilus or any other person wished to see Jesus these days, the place to find him was in the church. So, it was important for Luke to conclude his gospel with this memorable story. It was a clear indicator of the great truth needed in this new, messianic age: Jesus could still be found in the church’s breaking of the bread.
Application
Martin Niemöller commanded a German submarine during World War I and earned respect as a patriot and a hero. Children looked up to him. Parents told their young to be like him. He was a man of integrity and honor. He went on to become a minister of the gospel and took a pastorate on the outskirts of Berlin. Still, the depth of the straight talk of God that he preached every Sunday didn’t come home to him until Hitler made him a prisoner at Dachau death camp.
When he was released, he told what he had learned about himself in those horrible days. “The Nazis came for the communists,” he said, “and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I was a Protestant, so I didn’t speak up. Then they came for me. By that time there was no one left to speak up for me.”
Sad, isn’t it? Sad but true. Said Robert Louis Stevenson, “The cruelest lies are often told in silence.” And they are told by those who have not grown deep in the truth of God.
There is an interesting picture of truth in the ceremonies of the Old Testament. We translate the Hebrew word thom to mean “integrity,” and it carries with it the idea of wholeness, or completeness. The same word is also found in the Old Testament many times in its plural: thummim. In fact, the word thummim was the name of the stone on the High Priest’s ceremonial clothing that was supposed to symbolize the speech of God.
The message to Israel was clear: when God spoke a word of instruction, it was good and right and just. When God declared his love, it was holy and pure and genuine. You could trust it. It had depth to it. It was complete. As F.M. Lehman states in the hymn, “The Love of God”:
Could we with ink the oceans fill,
And were the skies of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above
Would drain the oceans dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole
Though stretched from sky to sky!
There is depth to God’s character and his speech. And that’s the quality you find in those who knew God. There is depth to them. They have character that goes beyond the facts of the surface. They know the language love, and the strategy of transformation.
Alternative Application (Acts 1:1-11)
There is an ancient legend first told by Christians living in the catacombs under the streets of Rome. It pictured the day when Jesus went back to glory after finishing all his work on earth. The angel Gabriel met Jesus in heaven and welcomed him home. “Lord,” Gabriel asked, “Who have you left behind to carry on your work?”
Jesus told him about the disciples, the little band of fishermen and farmers and housewives.
“But Lord,” said Gabriel, “what if they fail you? What if they lose heart or drop out? What if things get too rough for them and they let you down?”
“Well,” replied Jesus, “then all I’ve done will come to nothing.”
“But don’t you have a backup plan?” Gabriel asked, nervously. “Isn’t there something else to keep it going, to finish your work?”
“No,” said Jesus, “there’s no backup plan. The church is it. There’s nothing else.”
“Nothing else?” repeated Gabriel, worried. “But what if they fail?”
And the early Christians knew Jesus’ answer. “Gabriel,” Jesus explained patiently, “They won’t fail.”
First, it is built upon the confession that there is a God who created this world and uniquely fashioned the human race with attributes that reflected its maker. Second, through human willfulness the world lost its pristine vitality, and is now caught up in a civil war against its Creator. Third, intruding directly into human affairs for the sake of reclaiming and restoring the world, the Creator began a mission of redemption and renewal through the nation of Israel. Fourth, Israel’s identity as a missional community was shaped by the Suzerain-Vassal covenant formed at Mt. Sinai. Fifth, in order to be most effective in its witness to other nations, Israel was positioned at the crossroads of global societies, and thus received, as its “promised land,” the territory known as Canaan. Sixth, the effectiveness of this divine missional strategy through Israel was most evident in the eleventh century B.C., during the reigns of David and Solomon, when the kingdom grew in size and influence among the peoples of the ancient near east and beyond. Seventh, this missional witness eroded away, almost to oblivion, through a combination of internal failures and external political threats, until most of the nation of Israel was wiped out by the Assyrians, and only a remnant of the tribe of Judah (along with religious leaders from among the Levites, and a portion of the small tribe of Benjamin) retained its unique identity as the people of Yahweh. Eighth, because of the seeming inadequacy of this method of witness, as the human race expanded rapidly, the Creator revised the divine missional strategy, and interrupted human history in a very visible manner again in the person of Jesus. Ninth, Jesus embodied the divine essence, taught the divine will, and went through death and resurrection to establish a new understanding of eschatological hope, which he passed along to his followers as the message to be communicated to the nations. Tenth, Jesus’ teachings about this arriving messianic age were rooted in what the prophets of Israel called the “Day of the Lord,” a time when divine judgment for sins would fall on all nations (including Israel), a remnant from Israel would be spared to become the restored seed community of a new global divine initiative, and the world would be transformed as God had intended for it to be, so that people could again live out their intended purposes and destinies. Eleventh, instead of applying all aspects of this “Day of the Lord” in a single cataclysmic event, Jesus split it in two, bringing the beginnings of eternal blessings while withholding the full impact of divine judgment for a time. Twelfth, the Christian church is God’s new agent for global missional recovery and restoration for the human race, superseding the territorially-bound witness through Israel with a portable and expanding testimony influencing all nations and cultures. Thirteenth, since the “Day of the Lord” is begun but not finished, Jesus will return again to bring its culmination. Fourteenth, the church of Jesus exists in this time between Jesus’ comings as the great divine missional witness.
Each of these themes is implied or explicit in the first two chapters of the book of the Acts of the Apostles. God and sin and the divine mission are all part of the fabric of the narrative, while Israel’s role in the divine mission, along with the changing strategies, is declared openly. Jesus is at the center of all these things, but the unique divine intrusion he brought into the human race is now being withdrawn, as he ascends back to heaven. Now the church must become the ongoing embodiment of Jesus’ life and teachings, so that it may live out the divine mission until the remainder of the “Day of the Lord” arrives when Jesus returns.
Acts 1:1-11
A noted businessman was in high demand on the speakers’ circuit. He had succeeded well in developing a multi-million-dollar enterprise, and now start-ups and entrepreneurial companies sought his advice at their board meetings and planning sessions. While he still guided his growing corporate empire through black bottom-line quarters and overseas expansions, a good portion of his schedule was now devoted to playing the expert as he hobnobbed from one city and market to the next.
Few realized that his insights and public strengths were built substantially on the planning and preparations, behind the scenes, by his long-term administrative assistant. She was skilled and tactful and adaptive and a life-long learner. She had managed to understand his goals and perspectives so well, that she could put him on the right conference seminar speakers’ lists and keep off the ones where he would not shine. She also prepared his travel arrangements and even typed out the rudiments of what he should be presenting at each changing event.
One day he breezed through his office again, making enough noise to appear important, but sticking around only long enough to be on the way to somewhere else where he would be greeted as the honored expert. His administrative assistant handed him travel documents and folders containing all that was necessary for his next venture. He slid these into his satchel quickly, confident that, as always, everything would be in order, and he would have to worry about nothing. Also, as always, he received rather than gave, offering no thanks or appreciation for this woman who essentially made his “good life” possible.
Arriving later at his next board meeting, a high-powered affair where he was surrounded by critically-acclaimed industry leaders, he felt the glow of his honored position. They looked to him for direction. They saw him as a key influencer. They believed he had the words of life that would sustain them and their companies for the next fiscal cycle.
Basking in their affirmations, he stepped to the podium, opened the folder prepared by his administrative assistant, and launched into another brilliant introduction, reflecting his own good sense, but made better by her engaging words. The first page ended with a promise that heaven itself would open in the next thirty-five minutes, and divine revelation would spew generously out of his mouth: “We will now consider these matters under seven headings.”
He turned the page. And froze. In horror. There was only one line on the sheet. It exclaimed, in bold type: “YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN NOW!”
Jesus’ disciples must have felt that way on the day described in Acts 1. Devastated by Jesus’ crucifixion, demoralized by Judas’ betrayal, and scandalized by their own cowardness and ineptitude, these men had deflated to ghosts until the outlandish reality of Jesus’ resurrection made them human and powerful again. Now they were unconquerable. Now the revolution was in sight. Now there was no stopping the kingdom train. “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” they asked Jesus (Acts 1:6). They could see it already—the Romans beaten, those wily Idumean Herodians tossed from Masada’s palace into the Dead Sea, foreigners driven from the land, Samaritans put in their place, and Jews taking over their country as the true remnant of Israel. Fires of expectation and vindication danced in their eyes as they huddled around Jesus. “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”
His response puzzled and terrified them. First, he pricked their inflated pride. “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority,” he told them (Acts 1:7). They had not yet graduated, nor were they privy to all things important.
Second, Jesus affirmed them. “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you,” he promised them (Acts 1:8), linking their lives supernaturally to his own amazing abilities. Having distributed Jesus’ multiplied bread and fish, having walked on the waters of Galilee with him, having cast out demons and healed the sick, these men were drooling at the thought of having power over death itself!
Third, Jesus changed the rules of the game. “You will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth,” Jesus announced (Acts 1:8). But this was a big turn of strategy! The reason for Canaan to be the homeland of the Israelites was precisely because it was at the center of traffic and commerce in the world. God was Creator of all places and nations. God had chosen Israel to be God’s special ambassadors of this good news, in an age where peoples had generally forgotten their Creator, and played at little allegiances with tiny gods, mirroring their own selfish whims.
Now, suddenly, this spot of real estate, bounded on the east by the Jordan River (along with its Galilee source and Dead Sea drain), on the north by towering Mount Hermon, on the west by the Great Sea (Mediterranean Sea), and on the south by the wilderness wastes, would no longer be the base of operations for Yahweh’s take-back-the-world campaign. Instead of creating a community shaped by the Sinai covenant that would intrigue passers-by into renewed interaction with their Creator, the army of God would now be sent in bands and forays among the nations. The divine mission continued, but centripetal strategy 1 was replaced by centrifugal strategy 2.
Fourth, Jesus left. Just when his disciples thought they could survive any next crisis, the source of their confidence drifted up toward heaven and was gone. “You’re on your own now!” How frightening!
And how empowering! Jesus trusted them! Jesus believed in them! Jesus affirmed their place in the next phase of operations of the divine missional enterprise!
Ephesians 1:15-23
Our ability to see God is quite directly related to our understanding of ourselves. Those who carelessly toss aside human life will never worship God as they stuff blackberries into their mouths. John Calvin started his magnificent survey of the Christian faith, The Institutes of the Christian Religion, by reflecting that our knowledge of ourselves and our knowledge of God are so intertwined that the one has little power to grow without the other.
C. S. Lewis thought of that. He wondered why we humans, who have so much to live for here, might ever be enticed to long for “heaven” or “eternal life.” Often religion turns worship of God into a duty that exacts a tax of begrudging acknowledgment from us. We have to go to church. We must be good. We are obligated to pray.
But such feelings arise from the pagan notion that we can somehow increase the majesty of our tribal god in the clash of worldly power plays. Rather, says Lewis, echoing Paul, it is God’s amazing thoughts about us that make biblical religion special. It is God who creates us in his image. It is God who loves us when we are unlovely. It is God who declares us to be kings and queens. It is God who thinks wonderful thoughts about us, even when we can’t be bothered to think much of ourselves.
When the German prince, George II, became king of Great Britain, he had a special fondness for the music of his fellow countryman, George Frideric Handel. At the premiere concert of Handel’s Messiah in 1743, the king and the crowds were deeply moved by the glory and grace of the masterpiece. When the musicians swelled the “Hallelujah” chorus, and thundered those mighty words, “And He shall reign for ever and ever!” King George (whose English wasn’t all that great) jumped to his feet, thinking they sang of him! The whole crowd followed suit—for a different reason, of course, and a different King!
The comedy of that moment reflects Paul’s words here in Ephesians 1. God in heaven claps his hands and shouts of our greatness. And in the expanding circles of God’s glory, we rise, singing the “Hallelujah” chorus.
Luke 24:44-53
At the close of his gospel, Luke brings one more unique and representative story (Luke 24:13–35). Two people are walking away from Jerusalem after the terrible events of Jesus’ crucifixion. Suddenly they are joined by a man who seems familiar and yet remains a stranger. As they review the sad story of recent days, their fellow traveler, whom Luke has told us is actually the resurrected Jesus, begins to call their attention to the promises of the Old Testament, which somehow illumine both the life of their friend and the recent events that have troubled them. Then, when they enter their village of Emmaus, these two travelers urge Jesus to take a meal and hospitality with them. During time together, while Jesus blesses the bread, they suddenly recognize him, and he disappears. The two quickly retrace their steps to Jerusalem, scurrying to tell the news that they have seen the risen Jesus. Their message is heard with joy by the other disciples, of course.
Immediately the risen Jesus appears in the room, repeating the same things he taught to the two on the road. They are amazed but come to know their friend and Lord and Savior as he eats with them.
Luke seems to have a particular reason for including this tale at the end of his gospel. How would those who were not privileged to live in Palestine during Jesus’ days on earth (like Luke himself, or Luke’s friend Theophilus, to whom this gospel was addressed), ever encounter Jesus? Luke could answer that question from his own experiences: he had found himself seeing Jesus in one special location—the church and its ministries. When the congregation met together to reenact the Last Supper of Jesus with his disciples, Jesus himself was present among them in his post-resurrection, spiritual form. If Luke or Theophilus or any other person wished to see Jesus these days, the place to find him was in the church. So, it was important for Luke to conclude his gospel with this memorable story. It was a clear indicator of the great truth needed in this new, messianic age: Jesus could still be found in the church’s breaking of the bread.
Application
Martin Niemöller commanded a German submarine during World War I and earned respect as a patriot and a hero. Children looked up to him. Parents told their young to be like him. He was a man of integrity and honor. He went on to become a minister of the gospel and took a pastorate on the outskirts of Berlin. Still, the depth of the straight talk of God that he preached every Sunday didn’t come home to him until Hitler made him a prisoner at Dachau death camp.
When he was released, he told what he had learned about himself in those horrible days. “The Nazis came for the communists,” he said, “and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a communist. Then they came for the Jews, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists, and I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist. Then they came for the Catholics, and I was a Protestant, so I didn’t speak up. Then they came for me. By that time there was no one left to speak up for me.”
Sad, isn’t it? Sad but true. Said Robert Louis Stevenson, “The cruelest lies are often told in silence.” And they are told by those who have not grown deep in the truth of God.
There is an interesting picture of truth in the ceremonies of the Old Testament. We translate the Hebrew word thom to mean “integrity,” and it carries with it the idea of wholeness, or completeness. The same word is also found in the Old Testament many times in its plural: thummim. In fact, the word thummim was the name of the stone on the High Priest’s ceremonial clothing that was supposed to symbolize the speech of God.
The message to Israel was clear: when God spoke a word of instruction, it was good and right and just. When God declared his love, it was holy and pure and genuine. You could trust it. It had depth to it. It was complete. As F.M. Lehman states in the hymn, “The Love of God”:
Could we with ink the oceans fill,
And were the skies of parchment made;
Were every stalk on earth a quill,
And every man a scribe by trade,
To write the love of God above
Would drain the oceans dry;
Nor could the scroll contain the whole
Though stretched from sky to sky!
There is depth to God’s character and his speech. And that’s the quality you find in those who knew God. There is depth to them. They have character that goes beyond the facts of the surface. They know the language love, and the strategy of transformation.
Alternative Application (Acts 1:1-11)
There is an ancient legend first told by Christians living in the catacombs under the streets of Rome. It pictured the day when Jesus went back to glory after finishing all his work on earth. The angel Gabriel met Jesus in heaven and welcomed him home. “Lord,” Gabriel asked, “Who have you left behind to carry on your work?”
Jesus told him about the disciples, the little band of fishermen and farmers and housewives.
“But Lord,” said Gabriel, “what if they fail you? What if they lose heart or drop out? What if things get too rough for them and they let you down?”
“Well,” replied Jesus, “then all I’ve done will come to nothing.”
“But don’t you have a backup plan?” Gabriel asked, nervously. “Isn’t there something else to keep it going, to finish your work?”
“No,” said Jesus, “there’s no backup plan. The church is it. There’s nothing else.”
“Nothing else?” repeated Gabriel, worried. “But what if they fail?”
And the early Christians knew Jesus’ answer. “Gabriel,” Jesus explained patiently, “They won’t fail.”
