May 20, 2007: ACTION
Acts 16:16-34; Revelation 22:12-14, 16-17, 20; Psalm 97
Eileen Parfrey   --   Springwater Presbyterian Church

It's not often we get a Bible story with so much crabbiness. Everyone in today's story from Acts is annoyed-Paul, the slave girl's spirit, her owners, the magistrates, the jailer. All that annoyance feels like a long summer car trip with a back seat full of kids and no air conditioning. "Are we there yet? How many more miles? She touched me! He took my toy." You know those trips, the ones where, just one comment too many, one more whine, and then the snap. "I'm turning this car around!" What made Paul snap? He ends up in jail for being so annoyed! What did she say that tripped his trigger? After all, it was his story she was telling, almost like she was a carnival barker. "Step right up! Hear about the way of salvation!" It seems weird that the great apostle Paul is so human that he gets annoyed. Almost as if he thinks his power to control the message is being threatened.

It's always about power, isn't it? The power of the girl's spirit is enslaved so all it can do is proclaim the power of the Most High God, which defeats the slave owners' economic power, which makes the magistrates think their power is threatened, so Paul and Silas get put in 1st century maximum security. The jailer's power is rocked when the power of the Most High God shakes even the foundations of the earth. We know about power-power in our marriage, power to raise our kids, power to say what we'll eat and when we'll go to bed, power to learn a living and how we do our work. The power of the Most High God-! It meets and defeats every power it confronts, and Paul gets annoyed because he's not in control of doctrinal purity. That's like trying to stop the ocean with sand castles and getting annoyed because of the bugs flying. Paul's all-too-human swat at the gnat of a slave girl buzzing around his ears just highlights the futility of our attempts to control God's power. Paul may think he's protecting God's power when he snaps, but God has the last word, despite Paul controlling the agenda, despite the magistrates trying to put a sock in it. The jailer and his whole family are converted.

I would rather think Paul acts out of noble motives, that he exorcises the spirit out of compassion for the girl's economic exploitation. But he's not acting to free her from oppressive owners. He isn't working for justice and personal freedom. The institution of slavery still persists; the girl is still a slave. I'm not quarreling with his exorcism. At least he acts. Even though he acts out of petty annoyance, good comes of his action. Because you can trust God. Because God is more powerful than even our pettiness. Than even our bad motives. Than even our tongue-tied stammering. God isn't limited by us at all. God just needs us to act. Dithering doesn't help.

This week while waiting for someone, I noticed a poster inviting the public to a concert and speechifying. The slogan was, "Come change the world one neighborhood at a time." That's what's going on with Paul. Yeah, he snapped. Yeah, he tried to be God's consultant and security chief. Yeah, maybe God should have blasted the girl's spirit and let Paul have the monopoly on gospel purity. But when God chose to use Paul, Paul's limitations came with him. Even when his actions were inappropriate, God was willing to mop up the consequences. Because at least Paul acted. God is apparently willing to even live with our limitations, willing to mop up the consequences even when our actions are inappropriate or our motives not exactly pure. As long as we act. This reminds me of one of Jim Belt's favorite stories about a beach covered with washed-up starfish and one man methodically tossing them back into the ocean. A passer-by laughs at him, given the futility of all the starfish dying in the sun. He scoffs, "What difference could it possibly make to toss in that starfish?" But the man doesn't stop bending down and tossing out starfish. He says, "It makes a difference to this one. It makes a difference to this one."

Christians have got to act. That's our call. Even if our motives aren't always exactly noble. Even if our motives are noble, but we're a little suspicious of what's driving those other folks. If we hang around waiting until we've got the best reasons in the world for doing something, God's kingdom will never come. And that's the point. We pray that every week-"Your kingdom come." The end of John's Revelation gives us that imperative. "Come!" When did we start thinking our work as Christians had to be perfect? That we had to have a plan and all of our motives pure and clear before we took any action? That all the resources had to be accounted for before we promoted the gospel. We worship the God of hope whose power is greater than anything. Greater than the so-called jailers who hide the good news of the gospel in the dungeons of maximum embarrassment. Greater than the so-called magistrates who are threatened by our puny abilities to speak clearly and eloquently. Greater than the so-called distracters who don't do church the way we think they ought. Greater than even our ineptitude. God loves you personally, and that makes all the difference in the world for how you act!

Maybe you personally can't reverse global warming, but you can do one little thing. Your one little thing is an act of hope, and that hope is contagious. Make one less trip into town this week, carpool, share errands with a friend. Turn down the thermostat in the winter, turn it up in the summer. Maybe you recycle because you get a nickel back, and someone else recycles for higher motives. Maybe one motive is nobler, but the result is the same. "It makes a difference to this one." Here in Springwater, we can't reverse nuclear proliferation, but we can address the causes. We don't need to buy into the mindset that life is about winning and safety is about being stronger, that we aren't lovable unless we're the best. The mindset opposing that is hope. That hope, the mindset of peace, is contagious. We can act as if other people are as worthy of good as we are by consuming less ourselves. Others will catch on. We can treat other humans with respect and vote for school board members and legislators and governments who do the same. We can teach our children that competition isn't the only way to have fun. When I did Playtime with the Pastor, we played non-competitive games. At first the kids were baffled. Why play, they asked, if we don't know who wins? But the kids who came back learned about the joy of being with each other without having to know who's best. What if we got to heaven and learned God didn't keep books? What if we found out God didn't keep score?

It's a funny kind of power that doesn't need to win, but that's the kind confronting all the other powers today in Acts. It's a power that isn't about having more that others or one-upping, that isn't about being the best. It's a power that confronts and annoys. And it is the power we proclaim, even today. God's kingdom coming. Come! Everything and everyone in the final scene of Revelation cries out for it. The last word is an absolute imperative-come! But only if you are thirsty, only if you know you are missing something. Only if you are one of those starfish, washed up on the beach who can't get back on your own to where you belong. "Come!" The God of hope, the power of the Most High God, calls even you back to where you belong. Come. Only "Believe on the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved."

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