Acts 16:16-34
Revelation 22:12-14,16-17,20-21
John 17:20-26

God be in my words and in my speaking; God be in our hearts and in our understanding. AMEN.

I must confess that I don’t always react terribly well to the stories from the Acts of the Apostles. Perhaps this is because the dramatic, overwhelming events, which overtake the apostles in this book, are so very different in character to what I experience in my own life of faith. I have never (ever) ordered (in Christ’s name) a spirit to remove itself from someone; divine intervention in the shape of an earthquake that shakes the foundations of a prison so that the doors open and chains unfasten is very, very far removed from the subtle and ambiguous ways in which I experience God’s leading and discern God’s presence and power. I suppose that, on some level, the stories in Acts make me wonder what I’m doing wrong, so that my faith experiences are rendered in understated half tones and shades of gray, instead of the bold strokes and brilliant colors of Paul and his cohorts. And there’s also the sense that Paul and his friends seem always to know exactly what to do — what God intends — even when it isn’t the obvious, sensible choice. For example, in this morning’s story, after the earthquake, which miraculously frees them from prison, they don’t do the obvious thing and thank God for their deliverance and make good their escape. They stick around — and in the process convert the guard and his household to Christ. And I’m left wondering, “How did they know to do that? How could they tell that they weren’t intended to go through the open doors and disappear into the night?”

Of course, as Biblical scholarship instructs us, the stories in Acts — and in other books of Scripture — are teaching stories; they were told (and have been gathered together and written down) to provide instruction, inspiration, metaphor; they are not necessarily intended to be understood as literal, objective historical accounts. With that in mind, it’s possible to find an underlying message (or several) in the story of Paul and Silas’ adventures in Philippi of Macedonia. It may be that for us, the salient point of the story isn’t found in the miraculous earthquake as much as in the message of inclusion inherent in Paul’s concern for the jailer. After the earthquake, “When the jailer woke up and saw the prison doors wide open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, since he supposed that the prisoners had escaped. But Paul shouted in a loud voice, ‘Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.’” In this incident, Paul is clearly concerned with the welfare of one of his “enemies.” The jailer was a party to the mistreatment Paul and Silas had received at the hands of the authorities, and yet, Paul acts to safeguard the man, and even goes so far as to evangelize him (and his family), and welcome him into fellowship with them.

From this, it is clear that in the mind of Paul, the world was not divided up into enemies and friends, into people worthy of the message with which he had been entrusted and those not worthy. Everyone deserved to hear the word of the Lord and to be given the opportunity to respond with joy to the message Paul and Silas brought. Perhaps it is this openness of mission, this blindness to the divisions of tribe, culture, politics, ethnicity, and class that we 21st century disciples ought to cultivate. It seems to me that we 21st century disciples need most urgently to reclaim the mission Jesus gave us: to love one another so deeply and so completely that the whole world will recognize the presence of God in our interactions.

The passage from John’s Gospel appointed for this morning alludes to this vision of love and unity. Jesus says, “The glory that you [God] have given me [Jesus] I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” And Jesus goes on: “Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these [disciples] know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.” The salient points, here, are that Jesus recognized in his ministry the power to unify people, to draw them into a relationship with God that would make superficial differences among themselves irrelevant. And further, Jesus’ vision was not limited to the twelve disciples, but embraced the whole world; as long as the ones to whom Jesus had revealed himself continued to spread the loving revelation, the reconciling work Jesus began would continue. We need to keep from getting distracted by John’s complicated syntax, and to cling to the important point: that our work as disciples is to make the divine love real enough so that the presence of Christ in our midst is clear and obvious. The question for us may be, “How are we being called to do that, here, in this time and place?” The traditional answer is that we do this through the truly important, reconciling work of the church: feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and imprisoned, comforting the lonely, welcoming the stranger, and working for peace and justice. But the question for us remains: How does that work take shape — now, today — at St. Barnabas’? Depending on what people hunger for, meeting their needs can take many, many forms. Here, today, we support the Haven food pantry, which helps to provide physical nourishment for those who do not have enough to eat. But spiritual hunger is real, as well; and emotional hunger. People hunger for connection with God, for fellowship and community, for beauty, art, and music, for intellectual stimulation; people long for a sense of balance and harmony with Creation, or hunger for fulfilling and stimulating work. The needs are vast and varied. No single person, no single faith community, can do it all; so it remains for us — individually and collectively — to discern the places and ways we can be of most service to others. And a huge part of that discernment involves, I believe, being open to recognize where the Spirit is at work, and being willing to join her in it. Sometimes, this discernment may lead us to acknowledge that there is no longer sufficient energy surrounding a traditional ministry to sustain it; and in those cases, to consider, faithfully and prayerfully, whether the Spirit is urging us to let go of it, and move on.

It seems to me that the work of discernment, the effort of finding the places where the Spirit’s energy is moving, is something we do — not once or twice, not periodically, but — constantly. The question of where the Spirit is at work is one which, each day, we should ask in our prayers. If we set out, each day, to find signs of God at work in the world, and wrestle, each day, with the question of how to join God in that work, then (by the grace and power of Christ) we will train ourselves (individually and collectively) to notice and respond to the challenges and opportunities God sets before us.

The passage from the Revelation to John also touches on themes of inclusion and immediacy. “See, I am coming soon…” The Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift…” The water of life is given as a gift to anyone who wishes to accept it; it’s not a reward for a life well lived; it’s not reserved for the few who earn or deserve it. If you are thirsty, come and drink; the water of life is available to any and all who wish to receive it. For us, perhaps this serves as a reminder that the message of Christ’s love, and the power of Christ’s Resurrection, is not something we hide or hoard, but something we proclaim and share. The apocalyptic vision insists that these things, these changes, are happening soon. But our Resurrection faith challenges us to recognize that these things are happening NOW. The Resurrected Christ is here, among us, inspiring us, working through us. The water of life, the energy of the Spirit, the compassion of Christ, the power of God is available — now, today! — to anyone who wishes to accept it. If we open our eyes, our hearts, and our hands, then we will become aware of God’s energy at work, and discover ways to allow God to employ our energies and efforts in new and marvelous ways.

I pray that we may, each and all, seek to discern the Spirit’s energy at work in our lives, our community, and our world; and that, discerning, Christ’s compassion may inspire us with the spiritual discipline of service, so that God’s power may work through us and our community of St. Barnabas’ to make the love and unity expressed in the Gospels evident to all.

In the Name of Christ, AMEN.

Sermon preached by Beth Hilgartner at St. Barnabas, Norwich