Transformation
Commentary
Second chances are important to us. Do you remember the story of Anastasia, the woman who claimed to be the long-lost daughter of the last emperor of Russia, Czar Nicholas II? She was found depressed and suicidal in an insane asylum. Through hypnosis, she recaptured a memory that seemed to confirm her place in royal history. Then the press got wind of the story and sensationalized it: Could this destitute woman be the heir to the Russian throne?
Only one person could prove it: Nicholas’s mother. The old empress, who was still alive in exile, was brought in. After a long visit with the young woman, she announced to the world, “Anna is my granddaughter!”
Anna never gained a place in royal society because the old woman’s pronouncement only fueled the flames of controversy. But from that day on she began to live again. She blossomed as a person. Her suicide threats stopped. She washed her body with care and clothed it with dignity.
What caused her transformation? She explained by saying, “It never mattered whether or not I was a princess. It only matters that … someone, if it be only one, has held out their arms to welcome me back from death.”
Sounds a lot like the gospel truth, doesn’t it? That is the central focus of the scripture passages on this wonderful Resurrection Sunday!
Acts 10:34-43 or Jeremiah 31:1-6
The book of Acts is the second of Luke’s two volumes on the life and work of Jesus, presented first through his immediate person in the gospel, and now through his extended “body,” the church. There are several guiding forces that shape the way in which Luke tells this second part of Jesus’ story. One of them is clearly stated by Jesus in Acts 1:8—“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” With that in mind, Luke describes the way in which this witness emerged first in Jerusalem (chapters 2–7), then swept through Samaria (chapters 8–12), and finally began its push toward the ends of the earth (chapters 13–28). Jesus’ declaration provides the big outline of Acts.
The initial organizing structure of Jesus’ missional command in Acts 1:8 seems to be further developed by Luke in a clear series of church expansions that are tracked throughout the work. Each successive wave of missional outreach is built upon the previous field of witness, but pushes the engagement one step further:
The witness to Jerusalem (2:1–6:7)
The witness to Judea and Samaria (6:8–9:31)
The witness to the Gentiles (9:32–12:24)
The witness to Asia Minor (12:25–16:5)
The witness to Europe (16:6–19:20)
The witness to the ends of the earth by way of Rome (19:21–28:31)
All but the last of these regional (or, in the case of the move to a Gentile audience in 9:32–12:24, ethnic) expansions is brought to a similar conclusion of the type: “And the word of God grew and multiplied…” It appears that Luke perceived of the missional witness of the church in each of these sections as having pervaded those regions sufficiently enough that all persons within them had access to the message about Jesus. In the last section, however, the gospel is again briefly stated to both the Jews (Acts 22) and the Gentiles (Acts 26), but there is no concluding progress report of completion. Some believe this indicates that Luke was planning a third volume, intending to track Paul’s next series of journeys once he was released from Rome after his appeal to Caesar had been adjudicated. A more likely theological hypothesis, however, is that Luke deliberately leaves the story of the expanding witness open-ended. The mission work begun at Pentecost, has reached worldwide levels of impact by the close of Acts. But it has not yet succeeded in reaching “the ends of the earth,” or bringing all of the world’s citizens back into relationship with their Creator. So, the testimony put forward in the book of Acts is never complete but continues on in the life of the church. Viewed in this way, the church is always writing chapter 29 to the book of Acts, so that any attempt at a final “progress report” is only partial and interim.
The momentum of the stories told in the book of Acts is derived from a single critical incident that took place in Jerusalem during the Jewish religious festival known as Pentecost. Jesus’ instruction for his disciples to stay in Jerusalem and wait for a special gift (Acts 1:4), must have seemed vague at the time, but the arrival of the explosive power of the Holy Spirit during the Pentecost feast made sense. This celebration was both a harvest festival and a time for recalling the gift of the original covenant documents to Moses at Mount Sinai. These two themes intersected marvelously with what was taking place. First, there was the dawning of a new age of revelation and divine mission, paralleling the first covenant declaration in the book of Exodus. Second, during the Pentecost harvest festival, the first sheaves of grain were presented at the temple, anticipating that God would then bring in the full harvest. This expression of faith served as a clear analogy to the greater missional harvest of the church, which was begun through a miraculous “first fruits” in Jerusalem that day.
Peter capitalized on these themes when he preached a sermon explaining Joel’s prophecy of the “day of the Lord.” Peter tied together God’s extensive mission, the history of Israel, the coming of Jesus, and the splitting of the day of the Lord so that the blessings of the messianic age could begin before the final divine judgment fell. The pattern for entering the new community of faith was clearly outlined: repent and be baptized. The former indicated a transforming presence of the Holy Spirit in individual hearts, while the latter became the initiation rite by which the ranks of this missional society were identified (replacing the badge of circumcision in its unique application to the nation of Israel—see Colossians 2:11–12).
Reaction to the rapidly developing Christian fellowship was swift and sharp. Within Jerusalem’s dominant religious community there was consternation about the apostles’ identification of Jesus as the Jewish Messiah (Acts 4), creating tensions and divisions. Inside the newly organizing church itself, there were ethical issues that needed to be addressed (Acts 5–6). Soon the followers of Jesus needed to expand their leadership team (the deacons of Acts 6) and found themselves the targets of increasingly organized persecutions (Acts 8:1–3). Although this disrupted the close fellowship of the Jerusalem congregation, those who moved elsewhere to find safety brought the message of Jesus’ teachings, death and resurrection with them (Acts 8:4).
An amazing turn happened, however, when the leading persecutor, a zealous Pharisee named Saul, suddenly went through a miraculous conversion (Acts 9) and began to preach that Jesus was indeed the Messiah. When Peter’s exploits with the Roman centurion Cornelius at Caesarea nurtured the new Gentile mission of the church (Acts 10–11), Diaspora-born Paul (Saul by his other name) became the perfect candidate to partner with Barnabas in establishing an international congregation in the eastern Roman capital city of Antioch (Acts 12). Soon this congregation served as the launching pad for the great mission journeys of Paul and his companions (Acts 13–19) that would forever relocate the expansion of the Christian church outside of Jerusalem and Palestine.
What had been a centripetal energizing motion during the first phase of God’s recovery mission on planet Earth (that is, drawing all nations toward a re-engagement with their creator through the strategically placed people of Israel), was now shifted into a centrifugal motion of divine sending out these blessings of testimony to the world, in ever-widening circles of witness. The Christian church, born as a Jewish messianic sect, became a global religion.
Reports of Gentile converts to Christianity sizzled toward Jerusalem. Peter came up to Antioch to celebrate this exciting mission work (Galatians 2:11), but others with less enthusiasm were soon sent by James (the brother of Jesus and leader of the Jerusalem congregation) to ensure that all was happening in an appropriate manner (Galatians 2:12). These representatives announced that Gentiles had to become Jews in belief and practice before they could become part of the Christian church. After all, Jesus was Jewish, and was being acclaimed as the Messiah foretold by Israel’s prophets.
These ambassadors of the Jerusalem church instituted separate meal and communion practices (Galatians 2:12-13), making it clear that only those who were ceremonially pure could take positions of leadership in the community. Much to Paul’s surprise, even Peter and Barnabas allied themselves with those advocating these discriminating practices. Paul, of course, was anything but timid, and accosted Peter publicly (Galatians 2:14), creating even stronger polarization among the congregations on these matters.
The disease of Jewish superiority spread to the churches of Paul and Barnabas’ recent mission journey and threatened to split the infant Christian community before it even had an opportunity to get started. In response, Paul dashed off a letter to the churches of “Galatia,” the Roman district through which they had traveled on their mission trek.
Wisely acknowledging the seriousness of this burgeoning conflict, leaders of the Jerusalem congregation called representatives from all the churches to come together for a prayerful conversation, probably in the fall of 49 A.D. (Acts 15). James, the brother of Jesus, presided over the event, and reports were received from both the Pharisaic Jewish Christians who demanded that Gentiles become Jews before they could be Christians, and also from Paul and his companions who told of the marvelous faith exhibited by those who had believed within the Gentile communities of Antioch and Galatia. The most critical testimony, however, appears to have been Peter’s tale of the visions that led to his encounter with the Roman centurion Cornelius in Caesarea (Acts 10–11). Although Peter was by nature inclined to side with the “Judaizers,” he gave his full conviction to the perspectives of Paul and Barnabas, and this tipped the final outcome clearly in that direction.
The Jerusalem council of Christian leaders adopted a clear resolution, stating that Gentile believers in Jesus did not have to first become Jews through the process of proselytizing, but could be received on equal footing with Jewish believers in any Christian congregation. Four behaviors were urged (though not commanded). If the Gentile Christians would practice these, it would help observant Jews associate more comfortably with Gentiles in the same congregations. The outcome was more of what Cornelius experienced when he first began to pray to the risen Christ. A new world order was born, and Resurrection Sunday continued to overflow into God’s renewed world.
Colossians 3:1-4 or Acts 10:34-43
William Beebe, the naturalist, used to visit fellow nature-lover Theodore Roosevelt. Often, after an evening of good conversation at Roosevelt’s Sagamore Hill home, they would walk across the lawn in the darkness. They would look up at the stars, point out the constellations, and carry on a conversation something like this: “There’s the spiral galaxy of Andromeda! Did you know it was as large as our own Milky Way? Over a hundred billion stars. And every one of them is larger than the sun. 750,000 light-years away. And there are a hundred million more galaxies like it out there!”
The numbers would get larger, the facts and figures more spectacular. And eventually they would shuffle on in silence, lost in wonder. Finally, Teddy Roosevelt would say, “Now I think we are small enough. Let’s go to bed!”
Paul wants to take us there when thinking about the risen Christ. “Since, then, you have been raised with Christ,” he says, “set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.”
We need to go with the women and others of Jesus’ disciples to the empty tomb on Easter morning, but we should not stay there. When young Anne Frank was hidden in an Amsterdam attic during World War II, fearful of the dreaded Nazi revolution and longing for a day in the park with her friends, she wrote this note in her diary: “The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely, or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature, and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be.”
Yes! Set your hearts above, where Christ is seated! Even in the harshest of storms, as David noted many generations before, in Psalm 29, the magnificent power of God is displayed. Or take the testimony of Sir Ernest Shackleton. After he had returned from one of his Antarctic expeditions, he told of the intense suffering he and his two partners had endured: extreme pain, numbing cold, haunting starvation, consuming exhaustion. When rescued, barely alive, all they had left were two axes and a logbook.
“But in memories we were rich,” said Shackleton. “We had pierced the veneer of outside things. We have seen God in His glory!”
There are only a handful of truly great words in the English language, says one scholar. They are the words without synonyms, the words that can’t be explained, the words that sound like what they mean. One of those words is “glory.”
Only the hushed whisper of that word can describe God. Only the thundering roar of that term can tell what happens when God passes by. And only the shout of that cry fits the emotions that erupt in the wonders of Jesus’ resurrection and the transformation of the world beyond. As David put it, referencing both earth and heaven when God does such marvelous things: “In his temple all cry Glory!”
John 20:1-18 or Matthew 28:1-10
When describing the events of resurrection morning, John gives us some wonderful analogies to see its meaning on several levels. For one thing, when Mary looks into the empty tomb (20:10–12), the scene as John describes it immediately calls to mind the Ark of the Covenant that symbolized Yahweh’s presence in the tabernacle and later the Temple. While the other gospel writers tell of angels being present, John views them through Mary Magdalene’s eyes, and sees two such creatures in exactly the same position as the cherubim that stood guard over the Mercy Seat throne. This time, however, the divine presence was missing, indicating the dawning of a new age in which the Creator’s power and presence would not be confined to or limited by a particular geographic location. The second strategy in the divine mission had come, and the gospel was now to be preached to the whole world through Jesus’ disciples.
Then, when Mary Magdalene weeps because she misses her “Lord” (which is the Greek version of “Yahweh”), a man appears on her periphery, and she assumes that he is “the gardener.” Of course, Mary’s perception is incorrect, because the man is not a local horticulturalist. But is she really wrong? John never says that she was mistaken; only that Mary Magdalene had assumed Jesus was the gardener. In fact, John appears to want his readers to get the subtle message that Jesus is indeed the gardener. After all, at the beginning of time, the Creator placed Adam and Even in a garden and came to walk and talk with them (Genesis 2). Now, in the re-creation of all things, it is quite appropriate for new life to begin anew in a garden where the great gardener is again meandering and sharing intimacy with those who are favored friends. John confirms this symbolic intent when he tells about Jesus speaking Mary’s name. Just as Adam and Eve, along with all the animals and all elements of creation, came into being when they were named in the first beginning, so now Mary is restored to life in a new way as her identity is regenerated when Jesus speaks her name. Jesus, however, cannot be held in this garden (20:17) as partner in only one local friendship, for the process of re-creating all things is only just beginning, and he must leave to finish the task. Only when he goes, as he said in the “Farewell Discourse,” will he be able to multiply his presence through the gift of the “Paraclete.”
This coming of the “Paraclete” is enacted next, when Jesus meets with the rest of his disciples later that day. John tells us that he “breathed on them” (20:21), imparting to them the divine Spirit, and sending them out as his ambassadors, exactly in the manner of which he prayed in chapter 17. Is this, as some have suggested, John’s different version of Pentecost (Acts 2)? No; it is a final expression of the re-creation process. Just as Adam only came alive to his life and livelihood at the beginning of time when God breathed into him the divine breath (Genesis 2), so now this tiny gathering of the new humanity cannot function until they are divinely enthused in a similar, very literal manner. The Creator who breathed the breath of life into Adam in the first creation now breathes the same breath of life into his disciples in this re-creation. The dead of the world are coming back to life!
John ends his gospel with the story of Thomas, who demands the proof of physical evidence in order to believe this good news. Although Jesus provides Thomas’ requested touch, Jesus commends those others who can become reborn human creatures through faith which is not dependent upon direct experiential contact with Jesus’ physical body. In this, the missionary nature of John’s gospel message is confirmed, for John ends by issuing an invitation to the same trust and belief to all who read it (20:30–31), even though they do not have opportunity to touch the physical features of Jesus.
Application
Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote a classic novel called One Hundred Years of Solitude. It is the story of a village where the people had become infected with a very strange disease. From the outside everything seemed normal: they remained strong and healthy, they continued to function in the usual ways. To all appearances, there was nothing wrong with them.
But an invisible affliction began inside their minds. Slowly they started to lose their memory. After a while, they couldn’t remember the names of simple, ordinary objects around them. Then they forgot the names of their friends. And soon they had trouble recalling the names of their husbands and their wives and their children.
At first it happened so gradually that nobody paid much attention. After a while, though, it touched everyone’s lives. Their world started falling apart.
One young man saw what was happening. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost his memory too. But in the meantime, he did the only thing he could do: he acted as the memory for the whole village. He started posting little signs all over the place: “This is a table”; “This is a window”; “This is a cow—it has to be milked every morning.”
On the road leading to the village he put up two large signs. The first read: “The name of our village is Macondo.” And the second, “God exists.”
Paul says that remembering Jesus’ resurrection is a recovery of our own fading identities.
The desert fathers put it powerfully when telling of a father and a son who were traveling together. They came to the edge of a forest. Some of the bushes were loaded with berries. They looked so delicious that the son asked if they could stop for a while and pick berries.
The father was anxious to be on his way, but he saw the desire in his son’s eyes and agreed to stay there for a short while. The son was delighted. Together they searched the bushes for the biggest, plumpest, juiciest berries.
Then the father knew it was time to move on. He simply couldn’t delay any longer. “Son,” he said, “we must continue our journey.”
But the boy begged and pleaded, till there seemed no reasoning with him. What could the father do?
He told his son, “You may stay and pick berries a while longer, but I will begin slowly to move down the road. Be sure that you are able to find me, though. While you work, call out to me, ‘Father! Father!’ and I will answer you. As long as you hear my voice, you will know where I am. But as soon as you can no longer hear me, know that you are lost, and run with all your strength, calling out my name.”
That might be the story behind each of our scripture readings for today. And it might be the story of your life right now too. How is your memory? Have you set your heart on things above? Are you calling out for God?
Alternative Application (Colossians 3:1-4)
Most of this short letter is given to expressions of praise for the great testimony already being noised about from those who watched the great grace and spiritual energy of this newborn congregation. Paul rehearsed briefly some of the recent history that that now caused his heart to ache for them (Colossians 2). But then Paul grows ecstatic with his encouragements and exhortations.
Paul’s emphasis is on the resurrection of Jesus and the transforming power that it brings to everyday living. Paul’s whole thinking turned on the wonderful fact that Jesus came alive on Easter morning. This changed everything. It was the confirmation that Jesus was the messiah foretold by the prophets, and it was also the most profound sign that the new messianic age had arrived.
But Jesus left earth soon afterward. He traveled back to heaven, promising to return soon. Paul was sure that Jesus was coming again in just a few weeks or months. This was the expectation that made any trials, persecutions or difficulties endurable. Knowing that one can outlast an opponent, no matter how nasty or strong, gives great resilience to hang on and survive with dignity.
All who trusted in Jesus when he returned would share in his glory and power, according to Paul. But so too would those who had believed in Jesus and then died before Jesus had made his return. This teaching profoundly changed the burial habits of Christians and altered expectations at dying. Rather than closing doors, death opened them. Many early Christians welcomed death by martyrdom, knowing that through this act they were immediately secure in resurrection hope.
Yet the widening gap since Jesus’ ascension, required explanations for the delay of his return. It was for this reason that Paul and the others sent out letters to young Christian congregations. The epistles of the New Testament are the church’s first attempt at was in recent years has come to be known as “distance learning.” While computers and internet links are the key elements in this wide-ranging schooling today, letters like those which became part of our New Testaments served the purpose well for the first-century church.
We need to experience resurrection power today. Part of that transformation includes distance learning. We need to set our hearts on things above.
Only one person could prove it: Nicholas’s mother. The old empress, who was still alive in exile, was brought in. After a long visit with the young woman, she announced to the world, “Anna is my granddaughter!”
Anna never gained a place in royal society because the old woman’s pronouncement only fueled the flames of controversy. But from that day on she began to live again. She blossomed as a person. Her suicide threats stopped. She washed her body with care and clothed it with dignity.
What caused her transformation? She explained by saying, “It never mattered whether or not I was a princess. It only matters that … someone, if it be only one, has held out their arms to welcome me back from death.”
Sounds a lot like the gospel truth, doesn’t it? That is the central focus of the scripture passages on this wonderful Resurrection Sunday!
Acts 10:34-43 or Jeremiah 31:1-6
The book of Acts is the second of Luke’s two volumes on the life and work of Jesus, presented first through his immediate person in the gospel, and now through his extended “body,” the church. There are several guiding forces that shape the way in which Luke tells this second part of Jesus’ story. One of them is clearly stated by Jesus in Acts 1:8—“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” With that in mind, Luke describes the way in which this witness emerged first in Jerusalem (chapters 2–7), then swept through Samaria (chapters 8–12), and finally began its push toward the ends of the earth (chapters 13–28). Jesus’ declaration provides the big outline of Acts.
The initial organizing structure of Jesus’ missional command in Acts 1:8 seems to be further developed by Luke in a clear series of church expansions that are tracked throughout the work. Each successive wave of missional outreach is built upon the previous field of witness, but pushes the engagement one step further:
The witness to Jerusalem (2:1–6:7)
The witness to Judea and Samaria (6:8–9:31)
The witness to the Gentiles (9:32–12:24)
The witness to Asia Minor (12:25–16:5)
The witness to Europe (16:6–19:20)
The witness to the ends of the earth by way of Rome (19:21–28:31)
All but the last of these regional (or, in the case of the move to a Gentile audience in 9:32–12:24, ethnic) expansions is brought to a similar conclusion of the type: “And the word of God grew and multiplied…” It appears that Luke perceived of the missional witness of the church in each of these sections as having pervaded those regions sufficiently enough that all persons within them had access to the message about Jesus. In the last section, however, the gospel is again briefly stated to both the Jews (Acts 22) and the Gentiles (Acts 26), but there is no concluding progress report of completion. Some believe this indicates that Luke was planning a third volume, intending to track Paul’s next series of journeys once he was released from Rome after his appeal to Caesar had been adjudicated. A more likely theological hypothesis, however, is that Luke deliberately leaves the story of the expanding witness open-ended. The mission work begun at Pentecost, has reached worldwide levels of impact by the close of Acts. But it has not yet succeeded in reaching “the ends of the earth,” or bringing all of the world’s citizens back into relationship with their Creator. So, the testimony put forward in the book of Acts is never complete but continues on in the life of the church. Viewed in this way, the church is always writing chapter 29 to the book of Acts, so that any attempt at a final “progress report” is only partial and interim.
The momentum of the stories told in the book of Acts is derived from a single critical incident that took place in Jerusalem during the Jewish religious festival known as Pentecost. Jesus’ instruction for his disciples to stay in Jerusalem and wait for a special gift (Acts 1:4), must have seemed vague at the time, but the arrival of the explosive power of the Holy Spirit during the Pentecost feast made sense. This celebration was both a harvest festival and a time for recalling the gift of the original covenant documents to Moses at Mount Sinai. These two themes intersected marvelously with what was taking place. First, there was the dawning of a new age of revelation and divine mission, paralleling the first covenant declaration in the book of Exodus. Second, during the Pentecost harvest festival, the first sheaves of grain were presented at the temple, anticipating that God would then bring in the full harvest. This expression of faith served as a clear analogy to the greater missional harvest of the church, which was begun through a miraculous “first fruits” in Jerusalem that day.
Peter capitalized on these themes when he preached a sermon explaining Joel’s prophecy of the “day of the Lord.” Peter tied together God’s extensive mission, the history of Israel, the coming of Jesus, and the splitting of the day of the Lord so that the blessings of the messianic age could begin before the final divine judgment fell. The pattern for entering the new community of faith was clearly outlined: repent and be baptized. The former indicated a transforming presence of the Holy Spirit in individual hearts, while the latter became the initiation rite by which the ranks of this missional society were identified (replacing the badge of circumcision in its unique application to the nation of Israel—see Colossians 2:11–12).
Reaction to the rapidly developing Christian fellowship was swift and sharp. Within Jerusalem’s dominant religious community there was consternation about the apostles’ identification of Jesus as the Jewish Messiah (Acts 4), creating tensions and divisions. Inside the newly organizing church itself, there were ethical issues that needed to be addressed (Acts 5–6). Soon the followers of Jesus needed to expand their leadership team (the deacons of Acts 6) and found themselves the targets of increasingly organized persecutions (Acts 8:1–3). Although this disrupted the close fellowship of the Jerusalem congregation, those who moved elsewhere to find safety brought the message of Jesus’ teachings, death and resurrection with them (Acts 8:4).
An amazing turn happened, however, when the leading persecutor, a zealous Pharisee named Saul, suddenly went through a miraculous conversion (Acts 9) and began to preach that Jesus was indeed the Messiah. When Peter’s exploits with the Roman centurion Cornelius at Caesarea nurtured the new Gentile mission of the church (Acts 10–11), Diaspora-born Paul (Saul by his other name) became the perfect candidate to partner with Barnabas in establishing an international congregation in the eastern Roman capital city of Antioch (Acts 12). Soon this congregation served as the launching pad for the great mission journeys of Paul and his companions (Acts 13–19) that would forever relocate the expansion of the Christian church outside of Jerusalem and Palestine.
What had been a centripetal energizing motion during the first phase of God’s recovery mission on planet Earth (that is, drawing all nations toward a re-engagement with their creator through the strategically placed people of Israel), was now shifted into a centrifugal motion of divine sending out these blessings of testimony to the world, in ever-widening circles of witness. The Christian church, born as a Jewish messianic sect, became a global religion.
Reports of Gentile converts to Christianity sizzled toward Jerusalem. Peter came up to Antioch to celebrate this exciting mission work (Galatians 2:11), but others with less enthusiasm were soon sent by James (the brother of Jesus and leader of the Jerusalem congregation) to ensure that all was happening in an appropriate manner (Galatians 2:12). These representatives announced that Gentiles had to become Jews in belief and practice before they could become part of the Christian church. After all, Jesus was Jewish, and was being acclaimed as the Messiah foretold by Israel’s prophets.
These ambassadors of the Jerusalem church instituted separate meal and communion practices (Galatians 2:12-13), making it clear that only those who were ceremonially pure could take positions of leadership in the community. Much to Paul’s surprise, even Peter and Barnabas allied themselves with those advocating these discriminating practices. Paul, of course, was anything but timid, and accosted Peter publicly (Galatians 2:14), creating even stronger polarization among the congregations on these matters.
The disease of Jewish superiority spread to the churches of Paul and Barnabas’ recent mission journey and threatened to split the infant Christian community before it even had an opportunity to get started. In response, Paul dashed off a letter to the churches of “Galatia,” the Roman district through which they had traveled on their mission trek.
Wisely acknowledging the seriousness of this burgeoning conflict, leaders of the Jerusalem congregation called representatives from all the churches to come together for a prayerful conversation, probably in the fall of 49 A.D. (Acts 15). James, the brother of Jesus, presided over the event, and reports were received from both the Pharisaic Jewish Christians who demanded that Gentiles become Jews before they could be Christians, and also from Paul and his companions who told of the marvelous faith exhibited by those who had believed within the Gentile communities of Antioch and Galatia. The most critical testimony, however, appears to have been Peter’s tale of the visions that led to his encounter with the Roman centurion Cornelius in Caesarea (Acts 10–11). Although Peter was by nature inclined to side with the “Judaizers,” he gave his full conviction to the perspectives of Paul and Barnabas, and this tipped the final outcome clearly in that direction.
The Jerusalem council of Christian leaders adopted a clear resolution, stating that Gentile believers in Jesus did not have to first become Jews through the process of proselytizing, but could be received on equal footing with Jewish believers in any Christian congregation. Four behaviors were urged (though not commanded). If the Gentile Christians would practice these, it would help observant Jews associate more comfortably with Gentiles in the same congregations. The outcome was more of what Cornelius experienced when he first began to pray to the risen Christ. A new world order was born, and Resurrection Sunday continued to overflow into God’s renewed world.
Colossians 3:1-4 or Acts 10:34-43
William Beebe, the naturalist, used to visit fellow nature-lover Theodore Roosevelt. Often, after an evening of good conversation at Roosevelt’s Sagamore Hill home, they would walk across the lawn in the darkness. They would look up at the stars, point out the constellations, and carry on a conversation something like this: “There’s the spiral galaxy of Andromeda! Did you know it was as large as our own Milky Way? Over a hundred billion stars. And every one of them is larger than the sun. 750,000 light-years away. And there are a hundred million more galaxies like it out there!”
The numbers would get larger, the facts and figures more spectacular. And eventually they would shuffle on in silence, lost in wonder. Finally, Teddy Roosevelt would say, “Now I think we are small enough. Let’s go to bed!”
Paul wants to take us there when thinking about the risen Christ. “Since, then, you have been raised with Christ,” he says, “set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.”
We need to go with the women and others of Jesus’ disciples to the empty tomb on Easter morning, but we should not stay there. When young Anne Frank was hidden in an Amsterdam attic during World War II, fearful of the dreaded Nazi revolution and longing for a day in the park with her friends, she wrote this note in her diary: “The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely, or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quite alone with the heavens, nature, and God. Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be.”
Yes! Set your hearts above, where Christ is seated! Even in the harshest of storms, as David noted many generations before, in Psalm 29, the magnificent power of God is displayed. Or take the testimony of Sir Ernest Shackleton. After he had returned from one of his Antarctic expeditions, he told of the intense suffering he and his two partners had endured: extreme pain, numbing cold, haunting starvation, consuming exhaustion. When rescued, barely alive, all they had left were two axes and a logbook.
“But in memories we were rich,” said Shackleton. “We had pierced the veneer of outside things. We have seen God in His glory!”
There are only a handful of truly great words in the English language, says one scholar. They are the words without synonyms, the words that can’t be explained, the words that sound like what they mean. One of those words is “glory.”
Only the hushed whisper of that word can describe God. Only the thundering roar of that term can tell what happens when God passes by. And only the shout of that cry fits the emotions that erupt in the wonders of Jesus’ resurrection and the transformation of the world beyond. As David put it, referencing both earth and heaven when God does such marvelous things: “In his temple all cry Glory!”
John 20:1-18 or Matthew 28:1-10
When describing the events of resurrection morning, John gives us some wonderful analogies to see its meaning on several levels. For one thing, when Mary looks into the empty tomb (20:10–12), the scene as John describes it immediately calls to mind the Ark of the Covenant that symbolized Yahweh’s presence in the tabernacle and later the Temple. While the other gospel writers tell of angels being present, John views them through Mary Magdalene’s eyes, and sees two such creatures in exactly the same position as the cherubim that stood guard over the Mercy Seat throne. This time, however, the divine presence was missing, indicating the dawning of a new age in which the Creator’s power and presence would not be confined to or limited by a particular geographic location. The second strategy in the divine mission had come, and the gospel was now to be preached to the whole world through Jesus’ disciples.
Then, when Mary Magdalene weeps because she misses her “Lord” (which is the Greek version of “Yahweh”), a man appears on her periphery, and she assumes that he is “the gardener.” Of course, Mary’s perception is incorrect, because the man is not a local horticulturalist. But is she really wrong? John never says that she was mistaken; only that Mary Magdalene had assumed Jesus was the gardener. In fact, John appears to want his readers to get the subtle message that Jesus is indeed the gardener. After all, at the beginning of time, the Creator placed Adam and Even in a garden and came to walk and talk with them (Genesis 2). Now, in the re-creation of all things, it is quite appropriate for new life to begin anew in a garden where the great gardener is again meandering and sharing intimacy with those who are favored friends. John confirms this symbolic intent when he tells about Jesus speaking Mary’s name. Just as Adam and Eve, along with all the animals and all elements of creation, came into being when they were named in the first beginning, so now Mary is restored to life in a new way as her identity is regenerated when Jesus speaks her name. Jesus, however, cannot be held in this garden (20:17) as partner in only one local friendship, for the process of re-creating all things is only just beginning, and he must leave to finish the task. Only when he goes, as he said in the “Farewell Discourse,” will he be able to multiply his presence through the gift of the “Paraclete.”
This coming of the “Paraclete” is enacted next, when Jesus meets with the rest of his disciples later that day. John tells us that he “breathed on them” (20:21), imparting to them the divine Spirit, and sending them out as his ambassadors, exactly in the manner of which he prayed in chapter 17. Is this, as some have suggested, John’s different version of Pentecost (Acts 2)? No; it is a final expression of the re-creation process. Just as Adam only came alive to his life and livelihood at the beginning of time when God breathed into him the divine breath (Genesis 2), so now this tiny gathering of the new humanity cannot function until they are divinely enthused in a similar, very literal manner. The Creator who breathed the breath of life into Adam in the first creation now breathes the same breath of life into his disciples in this re-creation. The dead of the world are coming back to life!
John ends his gospel with the story of Thomas, who demands the proof of physical evidence in order to believe this good news. Although Jesus provides Thomas’ requested touch, Jesus commends those others who can become reborn human creatures through faith which is not dependent upon direct experiential contact with Jesus’ physical body. In this, the missionary nature of John’s gospel message is confirmed, for John ends by issuing an invitation to the same trust and belief to all who read it (20:30–31), even though they do not have opportunity to touch the physical features of Jesus.
Application
Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote a classic novel called One Hundred Years of Solitude. It is the story of a village where the people had become infected with a very strange disease. From the outside everything seemed normal: they remained strong and healthy, they continued to function in the usual ways. To all appearances, there was nothing wrong with them.
But an invisible affliction began inside their minds. Slowly they started to lose their memory. After a while, they couldn’t remember the names of simple, ordinary objects around them. Then they forgot the names of their friends. And soon they had trouble recalling the names of their husbands and their wives and their children.
At first it happened so gradually that nobody paid much attention. After a while, though, it touched everyone’s lives. Their world started falling apart.
One young man saw what was happening. He knew it wouldn’t be long before he lost his memory too. But in the meantime, he did the only thing he could do: he acted as the memory for the whole village. He started posting little signs all over the place: “This is a table”; “This is a window”; “This is a cow—it has to be milked every morning.”
On the road leading to the village he put up two large signs. The first read: “The name of our village is Macondo.” And the second, “God exists.”
Paul says that remembering Jesus’ resurrection is a recovery of our own fading identities.
The desert fathers put it powerfully when telling of a father and a son who were traveling together. They came to the edge of a forest. Some of the bushes were loaded with berries. They looked so delicious that the son asked if they could stop for a while and pick berries.
The father was anxious to be on his way, but he saw the desire in his son’s eyes and agreed to stay there for a short while. The son was delighted. Together they searched the bushes for the biggest, plumpest, juiciest berries.
Then the father knew it was time to move on. He simply couldn’t delay any longer. “Son,” he said, “we must continue our journey.”
But the boy begged and pleaded, till there seemed no reasoning with him. What could the father do?
He told his son, “You may stay and pick berries a while longer, but I will begin slowly to move down the road. Be sure that you are able to find me, though. While you work, call out to me, ‘Father! Father!’ and I will answer you. As long as you hear my voice, you will know where I am. But as soon as you can no longer hear me, know that you are lost, and run with all your strength, calling out my name.”
That might be the story behind each of our scripture readings for today. And it might be the story of your life right now too. How is your memory? Have you set your heart on things above? Are you calling out for God?
Alternative Application (Colossians 3:1-4)
Most of this short letter is given to expressions of praise for the great testimony already being noised about from those who watched the great grace and spiritual energy of this newborn congregation. Paul rehearsed briefly some of the recent history that that now caused his heart to ache for them (Colossians 2). But then Paul grows ecstatic with his encouragements and exhortations.
Paul’s emphasis is on the resurrection of Jesus and the transforming power that it brings to everyday living. Paul’s whole thinking turned on the wonderful fact that Jesus came alive on Easter morning. This changed everything. It was the confirmation that Jesus was the messiah foretold by the prophets, and it was also the most profound sign that the new messianic age had arrived.
But Jesus left earth soon afterward. He traveled back to heaven, promising to return soon. Paul was sure that Jesus was coming again in just a few weeks or months. This was the expectation that made any trials, persecutions or difficulties endurable. Knowing that one can outlast an opponent, no matter how nasty or strong, gives great resilience to hang on and survive with dignity.
All who trusted in Jesus when he returned would share in his glory and power, according to Paul. But so too would those who had believed in Jesus and then died before Jesus had made his return. This teaching profoundly changed the burial habits of Christians and altered expectations at dying. Rather than closing doors, death opened them. Many early Christians welcomed death by martyrdom, knowing that through this act they were immediately secure in resurrection hope.
Yet the widening gap since Jesus’ ascension, required explanations for the delay of his return. It was for this reason that Paul and the others sent out letters to young Christian congregations. The epistles of the New Testament are the church’s first attempt at was in recent years has come to be known as “distance learning.” While computers and internet links are the key elements in this wide-ranging schooling today, letters like those which became part of our New Testaments served the purpose well for the first-century church.
We need to experience resurrection power today. Part of that transformation includes distance learning. We need to set our hearts on things above.
