Category: Welcome

But none of these things move me, neither count I my life dear unto myself, so that I might finish my course with joy, and the ministry, which I have received of the Lord Jesus, to testify the gospel of the grace of God. (Acts 20:24)

In this section of Acts 20, Luke gives a detailed account of Paul’s farewell to the elders of the Ephesian church.

Paul is setting sail towards Jerusalem, where his sworn enemies (literally, they took an oath about this) want him dead. The Holy Spirit warns Paul of “bonds and afflictions” there. He’s going anyway, to testify the gospel of the grace of God. What is that?

On a theological level, Paul isn’t suggesting that the gospel of the grace of God is his special, ‘branded’ gospel, separate from the gospel Jesus sent all the apostles to preach. Paul had already gone on record about alternative gospels.

As we said before, so say I now again, If any man preach any other gospel unto you than that ye have received, let him be accursed. (Galatians 1:9)

We would be going against Paul’s intentions if we played off the gospel of grace against the gospel of the kingdom, the gospel of God against the gospel of Christ, or whatever else.

But on a biographical level, Paul understood very well that his testimony–his encounter with Jesus, and how his life had been profoundly changed-was distinctive. This put a very personal stamp on his ministry, and the way he understood and communicated the gospel.

One of the great things about the New Testament is that it does not homogenize people’s testimony or voices. Their personal encounter with Jesus is not interchangeable. Their individual story and style and vocabulary shine through.

Paul never got over the grace of God. He never got over the fact that when he was “yet breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord” (Acts 9:1), Jesus met him on the way to Damascus and changed the course of his life.

Jesus, who once told Pharisees that the kingdom of God was within them, reached out to this bitter, insecure Pharisee and awakened the kingdom of God inside him.

Paul never got over how Jesus doesn’t just say:

Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you (Matthew 5:44)

Jesus actually does this. He still does it. He loves his enemies, blesses those who curse him, does good to his haters, prays for his persecutors. Jesus loves people back to life. He brings the gospel of the grace of God.

We get to testify to that gospel, and what it does for us.

As recorded in Acts 22, when Paul arrives in Jerusalem he finds outrage waiting for him. His attempt to speak in public is interrupted by a riot as soon as he says the word, “Gentiles.” He doesn’t get as far as ‘preaching the gospel,’ as we would understand it. He doesn’t even say the word, “grace.” But he does get to tell the crowd, including his enemies, about how Jesus met him on the way to Damascus.

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Sing, O barren, thou that didst not bear; break forth into singing, and cry aloud, thou that didst not travail with child: for more are the children of the desolate than the children of the married wife, saith the LORD. (Isaiah 54:1)

Judah had been shattered. Isaiah 54 uses the language of widowhood and barrenness. These losses were literal, as well as spiritual. Husbands and children were dead, or gone missing. Even as they worked out ways for life to go on, the survivors felt desolation and loss of direction.

The exile sheared Jews away from their families, homes, communities, even the habits that connected them with God. Nothing was the same. Feeling secure was just a memory. They didn’t know what would happen to them next, much less what would happen to their children and grandchildren.

The word Isaiah heard from the LORD acknowledged their pain, and brought them a word of hope. The LORD cares about the desolate, and their children. He will restore them.

Without taking this word away from anyone else, we can hear it speaking to our situation today. The children of the desolate really, empirically, outnumber the children of the married wife.

Here’s what I mean: Last year, I saw (separate) reports that 72% of adults agree that Jesus rose from the dead, and 18% are in church more than twice a year.

Neither of these statistics is shocking, individually. Where I live, Sunday morning is definitely not rush hour. But a sense of reverence for Jesus is widespread, even among people who use his name as a cuss word. (There’s no oomph in profaning what isn’t sacred, right?) And if you go to Target a couple of days before his birthday, expect to wait a long time at checkout!

It’s the combination that rocks me. For every child inside the church–the “married wife”–there are three more outside–historically considered by the church to be “desolate”–who believe that Jesus rose from the dead. Where I live, people of Christian affinity living outside the church are not a minority–they are actually the majority.

Individuals and families of Christian affinity who walked away from church, drifted away from church, or had church stripped from them, are actually the majority right now. (Or where you live, maybe a plurality if not a majority.) They are not weird. They are not anomalies. There are reasons for where they are, how they feel, what they value, what they need, what they hope for and worry about.

If you’ve been a dechurched person for awhile, it’s OK to lol and smh at how recently I caught onto these facts. Maybe I sound like the guy who fell into Old Faithful and thought he invented hot water! But, sincerely, these facts have rocked my perspective and given me a new appreciation for how the children of the desolate have always been in God’s mind, and on God’s heart.

For the promise is unto you, and to your children, and to all that are afar off, even as many as the Lord our God shall call. (Acts 2:39)

God’s promises reach to the children of the desolate. And further.

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The kingdom of God cometh not with observation: neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you. (Luke 17:20-21)

For whatever reasons, it’s easier for me to imagine the kingdom of God coming at some other place and time, than wherever I happen to be. I expect the exciting rumors and headlines to come from somewhere else. That’s not illogical, considering that “somewhere else” takes in a lot more territory than “here” does.

But there’s more to it than that. There’s a feeling of disenchantment that I’m the least likely person in the least likely place for anything significant to happen. I may not be happy about this. Maybe I nurse unfulfilled hopes of being part of something great, or at least lit with adventure. But here I sit, feeling not unlike Luke Skywalker.

“Well, if there’s a bright center to the universe, you’re on the planet that it’s farthest from.”

But what if the kingdom isn’t coming somewhere else–or at least that’s not where it’s coming for me? What if it doesn’t come by observation, while I’m staring, listening, reloading the page, waiting for something to happen? What if I don’t have to get off planet, or out of town, to catch wind of it?

What if (behold!) the kingdom of God is within you? “Behold,” like “lo,” is a prompt to notice something that’s already there. Lo and behold, Jesus said, the kingdom of God is right there within you!

Even if you follow one of the modern translations that nerf-renders entos as “among you,” low and behold, the kingdom of God is right there, among you. Just notice it. Get into it.

And Jesus made this statement to… great saints? his favorite or most promising disciples? Nope.

Jesus made this statement to: Pharisees. Pharisees. Oh my.

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