A Patient Ferment

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’í, 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. …

⁹ David then took up residence in the fortress and called it the City of David. He built up the area around it, from the terraces inward. ¹⁰ And he became more and more powerful, because the Lord God Almighty was with him.

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.