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The apostles' freedomSunday, April 14, 2013
Acts 5:40-41 All we could think of was what we had lost - and oh, how we suffered. We grieved, we felt sorry for ourselves, we no longer knew the love of Jesus. We could do nothing to reclaim this glorious past, and none of God's promises seemed to mean a thing. There was this moment, then, when angels appeared and asked us, staring up at where Jesus had just been but now was not. "Why?" "Why do you just stand there, looking up? Look around instead, and remember what Jesus told you. Stay in Jerusalem, wait for the gift your Father has promised." We were more afraid than ever. But Peter spoke up, we chose Matthias our new apostle, and before long, the wind came. In the midst of morning prayer the storm blew through us and left fire in all our bellies. Unmistakably we spoke words we didn't know, in languages we'd never heard. "Go into all the nations," Jesus said. But now these same peoples had come to us, and we shouted our alleluias into all those lands. The language barrier gone. Without a doubt, with no more backward looks of longing, we stepped outside into lush bright light, and stared straight into the eyes of all our brothers, all our sisters. We knew that none of us, not one, was ever meant to be isolated or alone again. "Yes!" We shouted at the top of our lungs, and laughed and laughed. All around us healing happened. God unleashed his spirit, and we breathed it in and breathed it out. And you couldn't help but laugh. Joy filled the streets. No wonder the frightened owners had us whipped. But what amazing grace, the whipping only made us stronger. Their hold on us held nothing, because our fear was rooted out and its place was filled up now with God. We can't hold onto you, Jesus ... you won't be held by fear. It kills us all. But YOUR hold on US is unrelenting, it comes from love, we are held in love, and we learn to love as we are held and finally, with wisdom that can only come from you, thank you for it. With your tender mercies, you touch our hurting place, and touch and touch and touch, until finally all that's left is love. |
Judas hung himself, Peter was on the verge of disappearing into the desert, and we clung to each other in fear. We were just a band of fishermen way out of our league. We slunk out of the darkness only when we had to. We stayed out of the light, we cringed when anyone when took a second look. Even fishing we would only do at night.