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Creekside
Church
Sermon of May 18, 1997
"Daring Disciples"
Acts
2:1-21
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Rev. David
Bibbee
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When
Pentecost Sunday comes around I remember what happened on
this day several years ago. It was a moment made memorable
because of an unexpected and unwelcome guest. The Holy Spirit
didn't come that day as a dove, but a bat. I had just begun
the service when it came from nowhere and put on an impressive,
aerial display. As it dove and darted, the men flinched, the
women shrieked, and the children laughed. As the ushers held
a summit on how to get it out, I was trying to keep the service
moving, but I was no match for a bat. Looking back, it was
probably one of the most exciting Sunday services I've ever
been part of. A tame, tranquil service it was not. Which leads
me to say on this edition of Pentecost, that if we have our
wits about us, we will hear the story of what happened to
the disciples, with an appropriate apprehension.
When
the Holy Spirit came upon them, the result was anything
but tame and tranquil. They knew Jesus was alive. They heard
him say, "Go into all the world and make disciples." They
realized that nothing from then on would be the same. Yet
they were in a holding pattern. They knew they should be
doing something, but were in need of the drive to get out
and do it.
On
the day of Pentecost, the drive came. The disciples were
to gather in a house when suddenly it got very windy, and
after the wind there came what Luke described as tongues
of fire which rested upon each disciple, and they began
to speak in other tongues, not the unintelligible speaking
in tongues of which Paul would write in Corinthians, but
in tongues which could be understood.
When
we read about all the nations represented in this story,
we assume the disciples were translating several languages.
But Bible scholars point out that there may have been just
two languages. Though from different nations, these pilgrims
were all Jews. They would not likely have spoken many different
dialects. If they were from the western region, they spoke
Greek. From the east, they spoke Aramaic. But when these
Jews came to the temple they would only hear the language
of the temple which was Hebrew. No other language was permissible.
Therefore the pilgrims couldn't understand what was being
said.
After
the Spirit came upon the disciples, something very important
happened. When the Spirit blew, they were inside. But in
verse five a shift of locale is implied. Now they are in
the temple. The Greek and Aramaic speaking Jews are startled
to hear words they understand. The vehicle of the Holy Spirit
was the vernacular of the disciples. And the miracle was
not simply that this new message of Jesus Christ was understood,
but look who was sharing it. The disciples moved from inside
to outside. The Holy Spirit came upon them and they were
transformed into daring, bold, brave preachers who passionately
and persuasively shared the story of Christ. A new power
was at work within them, and on that day the church's membership
roll grew by three thousand. No longer locked in a language
or locale, the flame of Christ was unleashed. Like the hymn
we sing goes:
Not
in the dark of buildings confining, not in some heaven light
years away, but here in this place, the new light is shining,
now is the Kingdom, now is the day. Gather us in and hold
us forever, gather us in and make us your own. Gather us
in all peoples together, fire of our love in our flesh and
our bone.
The
rush of the wind. Tongues of fire. Responding to the Spirit,
putting renewal over routine. This story isn't a history
lesson. It is current events. There is work to be done...God's
work, and it will not be done (at least not by us), if we
are organized for safety, comfort, and are content to coast.
If this day makes anything clear, it is this...when God
wants something done, God sends people to do it. And whenever
God dispenses a task, he gives tools to do it. God doesn't
send us elephant hunting with water pistols. God sends help
to make things happen, but it requires a risk on our part,
doesn't it?
Can
you think of any change for the better that doesn't involve
risk? You are told that the only way you will be healthy
is to have surgery, but surgery has risk. To grow in love,
people marry, but there is risk in marriage. Leaving one
job for a better one...that implies risk. Yet knowledge
alone doesn't mean we will actually dare enough to move
out of the comfort zone. Having worked so long at keeping
things settled in our lives in church, the thought of taking
any sort of risk is hard because one thing might lead to
another, and, well, you don't know what might happen.
I recall
Robert Fulghum's story about his friend Grady. Grady moved
into a dark, depressing apartment temporarily for seven
years. For seven years he complained about how depressed
it made him feel. His friends agreed. They never visited
unless they wanted to be depressed. The walls, rug, drapes,
furniture...everything was gray. He thought of painting
the walls yellow, but he couldn't bring himself to go buy
a couple of gallons of paint to do it.
If
he painted the walls, the furniture wouldn't look good,
then he'd have to buy new furniture, but he doesn't have
time to go shopping, and interior decorators are too trendy,
and besides, if he's going to buy new furniture he may as
well move to a better apartment. But the kind he wants is
expensive and he'd have to sign a lease and change his phone
and have his stationery reprinted. If he's going to that
trouble he may as well buy a house. But buying a house is
such a big hassle with real estate agents and credit checks.
Besides, what if he falls in love and she doesn't like the
house, or what if we had kids and then we'd be stuck in
a neighborhood where the schools weren't good and then we'd
have to send them to private school. Then maybe his first
wife would want to come back. He'd need a therapist soon,
and everyone knows what they cost. He figured two gallons
would cost a half a million dollars.
Fulghum
agreed. It's a risk, I tell him. When the sun starts to
die and get so hot it turns the earth's surface to boiling
rock, his new house will burn down, and all that time and
trouble will go to waste, and his insurance money and deposit
money on his non-existent children's non- existent private
school will go down the tubes to boot. In between there
will be carpenter ants, depression, famine, floods, earthquakes,
athlete's foot, and entropy. Painting the living room could
lead to the end of the world.
Grady,
you should buy yourself a cemetery plot right now, dig a
hole in it, pitch a tent over it, and move in. Save all
of that hassle in between.
If
the disciples hadn't moved when the Spirit said move; if
they hadn't taken that risk of taking the story of Jesus
into the temple, if they spent their time catastrophizing
about how one mistake could lead to another, there would
be no church. But they trusted that the Holy Spirit would
work through their words and bring something new into being.
God was intent on bringing the church into being, and it
was up to the disciples to accept the risk and align themselves
with the power and guidance by which it would happen.
When
God wants something done, people are sent to pull it off.
Everything that is needed is supplied.
Whenever
I read the story of the church's origins, I have to marvel
at how it happened. A plain, rough around the edges assortment
of fishermen and tax collectors became the most extraordinarily
effective band of preachers and promoters of Christ the
world has seen, all because Christ needed them. They bet
their present and future that Christ who called them, would
not leave them. Therefore they entrusted themselves to the
Spirit's leading, questions and risk not withstanding.
If
there is one institution that has been identified as being
change-resistant, it is the church. Yet when you look closely
you realize the opposite. History teaches that any movement
that does not adapt to the winds of change, dies. But the
church continues because God ordains it to continue. Its
ability to continue is tied to its willingness to speak
the same message in different ways in different times. How
often we say, when confronted with the challenge of change,
"It has always been this way." But nothing has always been
this way. Only God and the revelation of his Son and the
promise of his presence has always been this way.
To
be the church, therefore, entails a commitment to growth,
and growth requires change. I think of John Sculley. Became
CEO at Pepsico at age 38. On the top. The future buttoned
down. Then Steve Jobs, the brains of Apple Computer paid
a visit. He wanted Sculley to be CEO of Apple. Sculley had
it made at Pepsico, but he wasn't fulfilled. Sensing this,
Jobs said, "John, do you want to spend the rest of your
life selling sugared water, or do you want a chance to change
the world?" With that question, Sculley's life changed direction.
When
the Holy Spirit came they couldn't be content to coast.
To be the church entails a daring commitment to growth and
change. And you know, don't you, there is no change in the
institution that doesn't include a change in the members.
If
the church seems stuck. If the prevailing mood is lethargic,
I suggest it is time to reorient ourselves and be willing
to be changed. There is no going forward by standing still.
I concur with the comment by Barry Johnson who said, "The
challenge is to embrace change as a gift of the Holy Spirit."
This
thought became personal for me this week. I met with a group
of pastors and we shared the issues we are facing in our
ministries. The central topic was leading our churches through
a time of great change. I acknowledged that I am just as
anxious about change as the next person, maybe more so.
I put a premium on harmony and stability and making everyone
happy. Before I make major moves, I consult the authorities,
lay out the options, and carefully construct the course.
Then
the senior member of our group, a man made wise by years
of experience and deep by his sense of God's Spirit, asked
me, "David, when did you last make a daring decision?" "Do
you have a sense of where the Holy Spirit is leading you
and your church?" Then he asked, "How old are you?" "How
old am I? Forty-three. Why?" "Given what you've said, it's
time to be bold, brother. Trust the Spirit and lead."
I'll
be working at this--situating myself to the Spirit, working
through the fear of risk, not running from the challenge
of change, rather, willing to be daring for the sake of
what God wants to do through me.
There
is a letter in my files that I pull from time to time that
helps me remember the rewards of risk and the cost of not
taking them. I share it with you now to stir your own thinking,
but even more to encourage you to embrace the necessity
of change which the Holy Spirit even now is working to achieve
in our lives, and in this church.
To
laugh is to risk appearing the fool.
To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach out to another is to risk involvement.
To
expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.
To display your ideas, your dreams before the crowd is to
risk their loss.
To love is to risk not being loved in return.
To live is to risk dying.
To hope is to risk failure.
But
risk must be taken because the greater hazard in life is
to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing, does nothing and is nothing.
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