Creekside Church Sermon of May 28, 2000 "He is Numbered Among Us" Acts 1:15-26	Rev. David Bibbee
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The emphasis these days is upon looking good and being seen in the most favorable light possible. It's easy to see this in politics. There is a term for this called "putting spin" on a candidate. It is a process of alteration and omission-exaggerating accomplishments, minimizing questionable decisions and behaviors. But you will not find "spin" in the Bible. The Bible is not afraid to point out the flaws of its heroes. There is also no personality polishing. The Bible is not afraid to mention unpleasantries and say when God's people are wrong. Our lesson today is a prime example.

Luke, the author of Acts, tells the story of the church's formation. It begins on a triumphal note. Jesus had been raised from the dead and appeared numerous times to his followers. Before he departed from them he promised an infusion of power from the Holy Spirit so they would continue the work Jesus began. In the first chapter of Luke's history, he decided to mention a vacancy among the apostolic band created by Judas' gruesome departure.

Obviously Luke had not contacted a church consultant. What were people to think when they read that Judas, a disciple handpicked by Jesus himself, had handed Jesus over to the authorities for a bag of silver? How could you expect to bring folks into this new community if in the very first chapter you meet betrayal and death?

When people tell stories about their own, it is interesting to note what is not said. Every school age child growing up in Marion, Ohio learned about Warren G. Harding, the man from Marion who became the 29th President of the United States. We learned of his achievements. We took field trips to his home and the beautiful memorial built in his honor. It wasn't until many years later that we learned the rest of the story...things like the scandal that ruined his presidency and his extramarital affairs resulting in two children, one with his wife's childhood friend, and another with his wife's best friend.

You won't find such omissions in the Bible. The Bible is not timid about the suspect side of its characters' lives, which is more than we can say about some of the history lessons we learned when we were young. But why? Why tell again about the disciple turned traitor? Why not simply say that in order to bring the number disciples back to twelve, a fine chap named Matthias was chosen, and omit the details about Judas spilling his guts?

I remember a conversation with a man who was commissioned to write the history of a very large, old, and influential congregation. He was very thorough in pursuing sources, and in the course of his research he discovered some unbecoming episodes in the church's past, and some juicy information about a pastor or two. When he presented his first draft to the representatives of the church, they were not comfortable with his version of their past. It was "strongly suggested" that he do some revision. They wanted their story told, but said, "It's not necessary to include part of our past."

Luke was under no such restraint, and we should be grateful. Judas wasn't just one apple gone bad. He wasn't an unfortunate aberration. Jesus was sold out by one of his own. The point of this gruesome verse about blood and bowels wasn't included as a way of saying Judas got what he deserved.

"For he was numbered among us and was allotted his share in this ministry." If Judas, who was chosen by Jesus, who lived with and worked with Jesus could betray him, what makes us think that we who are so separated by the centuries are not capable of the same? This verse we would just as soon bypass isn't only about then, but now...not about just them, but us.

The greatest threat to the church is not from the outside, but the inside. In 1998 there was a drug bust that made news across the country. Working for a big-time drug trafficker, two 22-year-olds were caught selling crack cocaine to the teenagers of their community. Arrests were made. The names of the dealers were made public. It was a story repeated often. What made this story different was where the young men were from...Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. They were Amish. The group they targeted was Amish boys. The Amish work hard at forming close knit families and building a strong wall against the seductions of society. But now, not even the Amish are immune. The drugs were supplied from the outside, but the betrayal came from within...from two of their own.

At the Passover, Jesus stunned the disciples when he said, "One of you will betray me." It's significant that there were not eleven fingers pointed at Judas. Do you remember what they asked? "Is it I, Lord?" They were none too sure of themselves. Each one knew they had it within themselves to let Jesus down.

We have before us a text which would have us be honest with ourselves. We are the disciples of Jesus, but we are also descendants of Judas. We show we are related whenever we compromise our Christian values and doing what is right for the sake of convenience or comfort. We betray Jesus when we proclaim him Lord of our lips, while with our lives we show that we honor money, power, and success instead. As Mae West said, "We climb the ladder of success one wrong at a time." We betray Jesus by standing in the way of the church's future by holding it hostage to the past. We betray him when we use our talents and opportunities and sexual intimacies in ways that they were never intended to be used. We share in the complicity of handing Jesus over, those of us in the pulpit and the pews, because we value our ways more than his.

Did you ever consider that Jesus and the Church are continually judged, and the standard by which judgements are made is you and me? How we behave has great impact upon what others believe. We are the difference that makes others either critical of the Church, or members of it.

This painfully honest story presents us with a precaution. It is possible for any of us to be seated at the Lord's table and let him down. But out of the blood and guts and death of Peter's speech, there is also a promise.

I recently watched a documentary on the life of George Wallace, the former governor of Alabama. Wallace was a staunch segregationist and antagonist of the civil rights movement. Many of you can remember Wallace and his aides physically blocking the entrance to the University of Alabama to prevent the admission of a black student. But near the end of his life, George Wallace underwent a change of heart. Over the years he had endured the death of his first wife and a divorce from his second. He had run for the presidency twice and survived an assassination attempt that left him a paraplegic. Once he was in the spotlight, but in the twilight of life he was alone.

George Wallace had much to think about. He realized that before he met God, he would have to rid his soul of one dark blot. He suffered with the realization that his words had been used to stoke the fires of racial hatred and led to the great persecution of thousands of black people. His repentance led him to a humble act. He went from one church and community hall to another, confessing his sin of racism and asking forgiveness of the black community he wronged a quarter century earlier. George Wallace was never as big as when he humbled himself with a repentant heart.

Judas wasn't the only disciple to desert Jesus. Peter had his own burden to bear for having denied knowing Jesus. When the impact of his action sank in, the Bible says Peter went out and wept bitterly. Judas also went out, but he went out to hang himself according to one of the gospels. Whether it was by hanging or bursting in the middle is not important. The recognition of wrong led Peter to tears and Judas to despair. I think that Judas loved Jesus, but in the end he doubted Jesus' love.

If only Judas had not allowed despair to be the final word. He took his life before word of the resurrection reached him. On Easter we celebrate the power of the life over death and a love and mercy and forgiveness which Jesus gives us to overcome our sin.

In my week at Taizé, I had many wonderful experiences. As we traveled by bus the last few miles to Taizé, Nancy Faus said, "The Lord will teach each of us in a different way in the days ahead." The moment for me came in a verse of a song called, "Jesus le Christ". It goes like this:

Lord Jesus Christ, let your light shine within us.
Let not my doubts nor darkness speak to me.
Lord Jesus Christ, let your light shine within us.
Let my heart always welcome your love.

"Let not my doubt nor darkness speak to me." This verse was my gift. For so long I have been susceptible to darkness and discouragement which has said to me, "You're not doing it right. You don't know how to pray. God really doesn't love you. You aren't a good pastor, much less a good Christian." It is this voice of doubt and darkness which can take over and pull us away. Doubt, darkness, and betrayal are all a part of who we are. But Easter proclaims a grace that is so much greater than all our sin.

The Lord we fail is the Lord who forgives. He rose from the grave to tell us so. He rose to give us a new beginning. So we all can pray, "Deliver us from the doubt and darkness which speaks to us," and he will.

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