The title of this sermon comes from the title of a
book by Alan Kreider. Kreider describes the process of growth by which the
early church moved –almost irresistibly – from an insignificant group of people
on the margins of the Empire to the established religion of the Empire.
When
we remember what the first church was – a small group rallying around an
unknown Jewish Rabbi, it is more than a little surprising that within 300 years
it became the driving force of the Roman Empire. What happened? The New
Testament tells the story of the first church. In Acts 17, Paul and Silas’
opponents in Thessalonica call them “these men who have turned the world upside
down” (NKJV). The NIV renders the same phrase as: “These men who have caused
trouble all over the world”. In any case, they were highly active and they
demanded a response. They were the sort of group that one might expect to take
over the Empire!
That
all changed under persecution. The Roman Emperors recognized a threat to their
authority, and they responded vigorously. First Nero, then Domitian (followed
by others) sought out Christians to kill them. The book of Revelation may reflect
persecution under Domitian. Persecution waxed and waned for about 250 years
between the time of Nero and the time of Constantine. During this period,
church worship moved underground, and yet the church continued to grow
steadily, irresistibly. Why?
Kreider
describes the process with these two words: “patient ferment”. The growth was
like fermentation in the process of making bread. It is a quiet, almost
invisible, process, but it moves with remarkable power. The word “patient”
refers to the virtue of patience, which Christians of this period saw as vital
to their lives. They did not respond to persecution with efforts to defeat
their enemies, but with a patient embrace of God, of each other, and of their
enemies. This patience formed the bedrock of their lives as they embraced the way
of Christ without asking if it would prove to be effective against the Roman
Empire. They knew that God’s resurrection power was at work in their lives,
regardless of external circumstances.
What
does all of this have to do with our texts? What does all of this have to do
with our lives today? We walk through the texts together and then return to the
patient ferment of the early church as a guide for our lives today.
2 Samuel 5
My
theme this morning is that the church grows best when it is outwardly weak. The
passage in which David was made king seems to say the opposite. David began as
a shepherd in Bethlehem and then became a servant in King Saul’s house. He rose
to prominence as a military leader under Saul, which earned him Saul’s enmity. He
spent the next several years on the run, an outlaw chief of an outlaw band.
When Saul died, Israel’s elders installed David as King. He was 30 years old
when he became king and reigned for 40 years. When he was made king, he
established Jerusalem as his capital. Verses 6 to 8 tell how he conquered
Jerusalem and made it his own.
David
was “a man after God’s own heart” (1 Samuel 13:14), chosen by God to replace
Saul. Under his son, Solomon, Israel became a regional power. A mark of Jesus
as the Messiah of God was that he was “Son of David”. The last verse of our
text notes: “[David] became more and more powerful, because the LORD God
Almighty was with him.” We could almost think that this story intends to
illustrate how to be strong and good, but ….
But
indeed. Remember that stories in the Bible tell us what happened. It is a
common mistake to assume that “is” means “should be”. The way that David lived is
critiqued even within the story itself. The truth is that his great
contribution was to begin the family in which the Messiah would be born. All of
his political and military achievements are worth less than this simple fact:
The son who came from his wife, Bathsheba (a Gentile and another man’s wife),
was the ancestor of the Messiah. God’s triumph, come through David’s failure.
2 Corinthians 12
In
2 Corinthians, Paul defends himself against people he calls “super-apostles” –
people who claim great and wonderful religious experiences for themselves, and
claim also that Paul has no real standing as an apostle because he can’t match
their spiritual power and authority.
In
the verses we heard earlier, Paul replies to their charges by embracing them.
“You’re right!” he says. “I am as weak as you say, but not for the reason that
you think.” He observes that he has had spiritual experiences to match theirs.
He has had visions that have taken him into the “third heaven” and into
paradise. We don’t need to know exactly what he meant by these terms. It is
enough to know that he was – in human terms – a spiritual adept.
Acts
20 tells us that he also had spiritual power. You remember the incident in
which a young man named Eutychus fell asleep while Paul was preaching. Paul
went to him and brought him back to life. Clearly, Paul could have competed in
terms of spiritual experiences and of spiritual power, but he chose not to do
so.
Why
not? Paul had learned that we are in fact helpless to control life. His close
relationship with God and the power of God’s Spirit within him could not cure a
particular problem in his own life, what he calls his “thorn in the flesh” and
“a messenger from Satan”. We don’t know what it was. Speculations abound – from
physical ailments to spiritual dryness, but we simply don’t know. It doesn’t
matter. The point is that he realised his helplessness and weakness. That
recognition released God’s presence and power in his life. “God’s power is made
perfect in human weakness. When I am weak, then I am strong.” This passage
shapes the way I read the account in 2 Samuel 5. This idea appears again in our
gospel reading.
Mark 6
The
gospel passage contains two parts. First, Jesus and his disciples arrive in
Nazareth, his home town. In chapter 4, Jesus taught in parables and calmed a
stormy sea. In chapter 5, he cast out demons, raised a dead girl, and healed a
sick woman. People responded with wonder, gathering around him in great crowds.
In Nazareth, the people responded quite differently. They say, “We’ve heard
remarkable stories about this man, but we know him! He is Mary’s son. His
brothers and sisters live here with us. We saw him grow up. Who does he think
he is!”
Jesus
responds with a proverb, “A prophet is not without honour, except in his own town.”
He healed a few people, who evidently were willing to trust him to mediate
God’s power to them, but then he and his disciples moved on to other places.
Second,
Jesus sends his disciples intentionally into the surrounding villages. He tells
them to preach the gospel of repentance and he gives them authority to cast out
demons. [That is how I read verses 10 to 12.] He also tells them to rely
completely on him. [That is how I read his instructions in verses 8 and 9.] If
we look at ourselves, we must admit that we tend to rely on our own abilities.
We plan carefully, train as well as we can, and then do God’s work in the
church. Jesus makes it clear that such preparations, however important, are
secondary. No extra supplies. No extra money. Just go and preach wherever they
will accept you.
This
second point is, I think, another example of Paul’s statement, “God’s power is
made perfect in human weakness.” When we rely on human strength and wisdom to
do God’s work, we fail. When we embrace our helplessness in human terms, God
releases God’s power and wisdom to work through us.
The Patient
Ferment of the Early Church
How
does this theme of human weakness relate to the Early Church, as described by
Kreider? The NT church acted in power, with miracles like the ones during
Jesus’ own ministry. The first Christians were open in their proclamation of
the gospel, as the book of Acts makes clear. They were a small group on the
margins of the Empire, but they acted with the confidence of people who knew
that God was working in and through them for the salvation of the world.
Then
persecution set in. To be a Christian was hazardous. Many died in the arena,
martyrs for their faith. Christians became quiet in the public square, allowing
their lives to demonstrate God’s presence. Alan Kreider observes that their
steady, patient obedience to Christ, lived in their human weakness, became a
beacon that drew people irresistibly to Christ.
One
story among many: Kreider tells how Christians living in Carthage (North
Africa) responded to an outbreak of plague in their city. Around 250 AD, the
plague (some form of highly contagious disease) broke out in the city. It was
so bad that people put their own sick family members out in the street and left
them to die. Under the leadership of their bishop, Cyprian, Christians began to
treat the dying people left in the street. Risking their own lives, they
treated all the sick people alike, whether Christian or non-Christian.
Their
courageous love brought an end to the persecution of Christians in North
Africa. Confronted with the kind of love that ignored all barriers, people
realised that their impressions of Christians as enemies of the city were
wrong. This active love in the face of danger unlocked people’s hearts and
predisposed them to respond favourably to the gospel.
Kreider’s
basic point is simple. In times of persecution, the early church grew because
they loved each other and loved the world around them with God’s love. Their
automatic reaction [what Kreider calls their “habitus” – we might say “habitual
reactions”, i.e., their first response] to any situation was derived from the
life and teachings of Christ. They lived this way consistently and patiently,
all the time. Fifty years ago, Stephen Neill described their lives this way:
In those days to be a Christian meant
something. Doubtless among the pagans there were many who lived upright and
even noble lives. Yet all our evidence goes to show that in that decaying world
sexual laxity had gone almost to the limits of the possible, and that slavery
had brought with it the inevitable accompaniments of cruelty and the cheapening
of the value of human life. Christians were taught to regard their bodies as
temples of the Holy Spirit. The Church did not attempt to forbid or abolish
slavery; it drew the sting of it by reminding masters and slaves alike that
they had a common Master … and that they were brothers in the faith. (A History of Christian Missions, 1964,
41)
And Today?
I
think that the same lesson applies to us today. Fifty years ago, the church had
significant political and economic power in North America. Today, we have far
less. We have moved from the centre of society to the margins. To be a
Christian is to have many people assume that we have checked our brains at the
door. It does no good to protest that our faith is rational and loving; many
Canadians see Christians as bigoted, dumb, and out of touch with reality.
How
can we change their minds? Not by arguing with them, and not by preaching at
them. Apologetics is important, and organizations such as Ravi Zacharias
Ministries International demonstrate the intellectual substance of Christian
faith. Evangelism is important, and Operation Mobilization (among others) does
well at helping Christians share their faith. But more important than anything
else is a simple acceptance of our human weakness. We can own our failures and
seek God’s help renewing our lives. We can embrace God’s love and develop a
lifestyle of responding in God’s love to everything that happens. Like the
Christians in Carthage, we can return love for hate and embrace those we most
fear. Patiently, consistently, lovingly, we live the life of Christ, day by day
with everyone around us. When we embrace our weakness, God’s power is released
in us, and we discover the wonders of God’s grace and love in our lives.
As
an illustration, I want to share a story told recently in Christianity Today (April 20, 2018). It
begins with these words:
You have seen
my picture a thousand times. It’s a picture that made the world gasp—a picture
that defined my life. I am nine years old, running along a puddled roadway in
front of an expressionless soldier, arms outstretched, naked, shrieking in pain
and fear, the dark contour of a napalm cloud billowing in the distance.
My own people,
the South Vietnamese, had been bombing trade routes used by the Viet Cong
rebels. I had not been targeted, of course. I had simply been in the wrong
place at the wrong time. Those bombs have brought me immeasurable pain. Even
now, some 40 years later, I am still receiving treatment for burns that cover
my arms, back, and neck. The emotional and spiritual pain was even harder to
endure.
Kim Phuc Phan
Thi tells her full story in a 2017 book titled, Fire Road: The Napalm Girl’s Journey through the Horrors of War to
Faith, Forgiveness, and Peace. This article is a brief excerpt. She tells
how she survived the bombing. The photographer took the children to the
hospital after he took the picture. The doctors did not think she would
survive, but she did – after 17 surgeries over 14 months. She tells us that her
parents were leaders within the Cao Dai religion. Here is her description:
Cao Dai is
universalist in nature. … [I]t recognizes all religions as having “one same
divine origin, which is God, or Allah, or the Tao, or the Nothingness,” or
pretty much any other deity you could imagine. “You are god, and god is you”—we
had this mantra ingrained in us. We were equal-opportunity worshipers, giving
every god a shot. …
For years, I
prayed to the gods of Cao Dai for healing and peace. But as one prayer after
another went unanswered, it became clear that either they were nonexistent or
they did not care to lend a hand.
She was nine
years old when the bombs dropped. Over the next 12 years she looked for help to
deal with the crippling physical and emotional and spiritual pain she bore. She
writes:
In 1982, I found myself crouched inside Saigon’s
central library, pulling Vietnamese books of religion off the shelves one by
one. The stack in front of me included books on Bahá’Ã, Buddhism, Hinduism,
Islam, and Cao Dai. It also contained a copy of the New Testament. I thumbed
through several books before pulling the New Testament into my lap. An hour later,
I had picked my way through the Gospels, and at least two themes had become
abundantly clear.
First, despite all that I had learned through
Cao Dai … Jesus presented himself as the way, the truth, and the life (John
14:6). His entire ministry, it seemed, pointed to one straightforward claim: “I
am the way you get to God; there is no other way but me.” Second, this Jesus
had suffered in defense of his claim. He had been mocked, tortured, and killed.
Why would he endure these things, I wondered, if he were not, in fact, God?
I had never been exposed to this side of
Jesus—the wounded one, the one who bore scars. I turned over this new
information in my mind as a gem in my hand, relishing the light that was cast
from all sides. The more I read, the more I came to believe that he really was
who he said he was, that he really had done what he said he had done, and
that—most important to me—he really would do all that he had promised in his
Word.
That Christmas
Eve, she found herself in a small church in Saigon. The pastor spoke simply, of
the gift we give at Christmas, and of the greatest gift ever given, when God
gave God’s Son, Jesus. She writes that she was desperate for peace and joy to
replace the bitterness and desire for death she felt so deeply.
So when the pastor finished speaking, I stood up, stepped out into the
aisle, and made my way to the front of the sanctuary to say yes to Jesus
Christ. And there, in a small church in Vietnam, mere miles from the street
where my journey had begun amid the chaos of war—on the night before the world
would celebrate the birth of the Messiah—I invited Jesus into my heart. When I
woke up that Christmas morning, I experienced the kind of healing that can only
come from God. I was finally at peace.
Kim Phuc still lives today with the physical
consequences of that horror-filled day when the bombs rained down on her
village, but she adds something of vital importance: “Today,
I thank God for that picture. Today, I thank God for everything—even for that
road. Especially for that road.” (As a side note to her
story, she lives today in the Toronto area. She defected to Canada in 1996 and
became a citizen in 1997. She has established the Kim Phuc Foundation
International for healing children of war. Wikipedia quotes her from an
interview with NPR as saying, “Forgiveness made me free from hatred. I still
have many scars on my body and severe pain most days but my heart is cleansed.
Napalm is very powerful, but faith, forgiveness, and love are much more
powerful.”
There is perhaps a sense of incongruity in using this story. I
have stressed that the gospel comes in a quiet way beneath the surface of the great
events, so we may wonder if a story so dramatic and startling quite fits what I
have been saying. Listen again to the words from that last quote: “Napalm is
very powerful, but faith, forgiveness, and love are much more powerful.” The world
around us depends on dramatic and destructive power, but life, the true life of
God, comes silently beneath the surface. That life, full of faith and forgiveness
and love, proves to be far stronger than the roar and desolation of napalm bombs.
God’s strength is made perfect in human weakness, and when we discover our essential
helplessness, we receive the power of God. Amen.
Grace Bible Church
8 July 2018
Texts
2 Samuel 5:1-5, 9-10
5 All the tribes of
Israel came to David at Hebron and said, “We are your own flesh and blood. 2 In
the past, while Saul was king over us, you were the one who led Israel on their
military campaigns. And the Lord said to
you, ‘You will shepherd my people Israel, and you will become their
ruler.’”
3 When all the elders of
Israel had come to King David at Hebron, the king made a covenant with
them at Hebron before the Lord, and they anointed David
king over Israel. 4 David was thirty years old when
he became king, and he reigned forty years. 5 In
Hebron he reigned over Judah seven years and six months, and in Jerusalem he
reigned over all Israel and Judah thirty-three years. …
2 Corinthians 12:2-10
2 I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago was caught
up to the third heaven. Whether it was in the body or out of the body
I do not know—God knows. 3 And
I know that this man—whether in the body or apart from the body I do not know,
but God knows— 4 was caught
up to paradise and heard inexpressible things, things that no one is
permitted to tell. 5 I will
boast about a man like that, but I will not boast about myself, except about my
weaknesses. 6 Even if I
should choose to boast, I would not be a fool, because I would be speaking
the truth. But I refrain, so no one will think more of me than is warranted by
what I do or say, 7 or
because of these surpassingly great revelations. Therefore, in order to
keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger
of Satan, to torment me. 8 Three
times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made
perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all
the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I
delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in
persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
Mark 6:1-13
6 Jesus left there and went to his hometown, accompanied by his
disciples. 2 When the Sabbath came, he began
to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were amazed.
“Where did this man get
these things?” they asked. “What’s this wisdom that has been given him? What
are these remarkable miracles he is performing? 3 Isn’t
this the carpenter? Isn’t this Mary’s son and the brother of James,
Joseph, Judas and Simon? Aren’t his sisters here with us?” And they
took offense at him.
4 Jesus said to them, “A prophet is not
without honor except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own
home.” 5 He could not do any miracles there, except
lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them.6 He
was amazed at their lack of faith.
Then Jesus went around
teaching from village to village. 7 Calling the
Twelve to him, he began to send them out two by two and gave them
authority over impure spirits. 8 These were his
instructions: “Take nothing for the journey except a staff—no bread, no
bag, no money in your belts. 9 Wear sandals but not
an extra shirt. 10 Whenever you enter a house, stay
there until you leave that town. 11 And if any
place will not welcome you or listen to you, leave that place and shake the
dust off your feet as a testimony against them.”
12 They went out and preached that people should
repent. 13 They drove out many demons and anointed
many sick people with oil and healed them.
