Witness: Be Seen
Acts 25:23-26:32
In the days leading up to 9-11, fighting in Afghanistan between local groups and then the Taliban resulted in thousands of refugees pouring down into neighboring Peshawar, Pakistan. There they were squashed into tents and mud hovels in refugee camps in intense heat and poor sanitation. J. Dudley Woodberry and his wife Roberta were working in the refugee camps at the time. Woodbury describes what happened in the camps:
Conditions at one camp were harsher than at the others; so Roberta and her class took school supplies to the students so they had more than just blank slates with chalk. Another group of eight workers imported thousands of sandals for the children who ran around with bare feet on the rough parched ground. But they decided that they would also wash their feet as Jesus had. My daughter-in-law joined the group.
For a week they washed every foot with antibacterial soap, anointed with oil, and silently prayed for the child. Then they gave each of them new sandals, a quilt, and a shawl, plus a small bag of flour for every family. At first the sores, pus, pink eye, and dirt were revolting. But then our daughter-in-law felt a deep love as she silently prayed, “Dear Father, this little girl looks like she does not have anyone to care for her. Let my touch feel to her as if you are touching her. May she remember how you touched her this day, and may she seek after you hereafter. Thank you for those who seek you will find you.” Many children looked up and shyly smiled.
Sometime later a teacher in one of the tents used for a refugee school asked her class, “Who are the best Muslims?” A girl raised her hand and replied, “the kafirs” (a term meaning unbelievers that is often used by Muslims for Christians). After the teacher recovered from her shock, she asked, “Why?” The young girl replied, “The Muslim fighters killed my father, but the kafirs washed my feet.”[i]
This is the third of a three message series on our DNA here at Christ Church called “Who We Are.” It’s good, and necessary, for us to return regularly to the three words that describe the core of our life together in the body of Christ as Christ Church. Those three words are … Worship, Word, and Witness.
In worship, we stand in awe of God, not because God is some kind of cosmic narcissist who needs to be told how great he is all the time. We worship God because God spoke the cosmos into existence and then, when the human heart rebelled against him, God entered into human history and experience in the person of Jesus to save us from our bent toward rebellion and sin. He is depicted in the Old Testament prophets as a mighty lion attended by dragon-like angels. We worship and stand in awe of God because God is truly awesome. And in response to his loving gift of forgiveness and grace, we seek to live in such a way that he receives glory.
In Word, we allow the Word of God – which reveals both the majesty and the great love of God to us, and reveals Jesus to us – we allow the Word of God to challenge us and transform us, both in the way we think about God, about life, and also in the way we actually live.
And today, we come to Witness. Why? Because we want to point others to the grace and love of God that we’ve experienced. Because when you experience a good thing, you want to tell others about it. And we do that in both word and in deed.
Near the end of the New Testament book of Acts, which is written by Luke and is part 2 of the Gospel of Luke, we find Paul in jail in Caesarea after being arrested by the Jews on the charge of desecrating the temple, because he had brought a non-Jew into the parts of the temple that could only be entered by Jews. We’re going to pick up the story today two years after that arrest. Turn with me to Acts 25:23-26:1.
Paul has offered his defense before the Jewish council and also before various Roman authorities. The Jewish leaders want him to be execution, but the power of execution rested solely with the Roman authorities, and they hadn’t really found Paul having done anything worthy of arrest, much less execution. But they wanted to keep the Jewish leaders happy to keep the levels of social unrest under control, so they hadn’t released him.
Now, Paul was a Jewish man, a Pharisee before he gave his life to Christ, but he was also a Roman citizen, and that by birthright. His father had become a Roman citizen. And all Roman citizens had the right to appeal their case before Caesar himself. And Paul has done that, probably because he was increasingly afraid that he wouldn’t get a fair trial in Jerusalem, where there was so much hatred for him. The problem is that Festus, the Roman official in charge of the region of Judea, hasn’t found that he’s done anything wrong, and he doesn’t know what to tell Caesar about him.
So, when the Jewish ruler of the region, Herod Agrippa II, great grandson of Herod the Great, comes to town for a visit, the governor decides to have him hear Paul out and then help him decide what to say to Caesar. Herod is no saint and he isn’t very religious. He’s living in an incestuous relationship with his half-sister. But he has a deep working knowledge of the Jewish faith, and Festus, the Roman authority, wants his perspective and input. Now look at Acts 26:2-29.
I know, that’s a long passage. It’s Paul’s longest and most detailed telling of his conversion to Christ in the book of Acts. But Paul’s words aren’t random. There’s structure here. He begins by telling about his life before Christ, and then the way in which he came to Christ, and then what he’s been doing, what life has been like, since.
What I was like before Christ. How I came to place my faith in Christ. What I am like now. That’s a great structure for your story. You say, “My story? I don’t have a story.” Yes you do. Every follower of Christ has a story. One thing every follower of Christ should do is think through your story, and develop it to the point where you can share it if you ever want or need to. Something you could do in 15 minutes or so over a cup of coffee with someone. It isn’t deep theology. It isn’t a reasoned defense of the faith. It’s just, your story. The story of your walk with Christ. Lynn shared hers with us in really brief form three weeks ago at our testimony service. But if Lynn were sitting down with someone who had some questions about life or who was struggling, Lynn could share that same story – a story of finding Christ, of the joys and struggles of parenthood and a career in education, of a cancer diagnosis and treatment – in greater detail.
Some people say, “I’ve been a Christian since I was little.” That may be true. It’s true of me. And yet, there was a point where that childhood faith became my own, where I stopped riding my parents’ coattails and stared following Jesus myself, instead of just going along with what everyone else was doing. I mean, both Martin Luther and John Wesley were ordained and IN THE MINISTRY before they really placed their faith in Christ. So I want to challenge you to think through your story this week. Maybe even type it out. Peter, in 1 Peter 3:15, says “always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.”
Now, look at V. 24-25. Paul’s words seem crazy to Festus. They aren’t crazy. They’re the sanest words that could be uttered. They’re truth, completely grounded in reality. But they don’t make sense to someone who doesn’t believe that God exists. Festus doesn’t think Paul should be executed for his words, or even imprisoned. He doesn’t think he’s guilty of any wrongdoing. They just don’t match his worldview.
When we live faithfully for Jesus, even imperfectly, as we all do, and when we tell the story of our journey with Jesus, it doesn’t usually make sense to people. To be fair, people in America today tend to have SOME familiarity with faith. It isn’t totally coming out of left field for them like it was for Festus, who would have worshipped many gods, among them Caesar himself. For him the concept of a resurrection from the dead was both foreign and impossible. But there are many “spiritual but not religious” people and also complete secularists in our world today who don’t have any framework for talking about a life in Christ. It doesn’t make any sense.
But there are also many people like Agrippa. People who know the concepts and can wrap their minds around them. They just don’t have any desire to make Jesus so important in their lives. Look at Vv. 27-29. Agrippa knows Paul’s world very well. He knows the Scriptures. But his pursuit of power and pleasure, of riches and fame, have him less than interested in following Christ himself. So while Paul’s words make a little more sense to Agrippa, he still has no desire to follow Jesus. But, and here’s the thing, Paul shares anyway. He makes an appeal anyway.
Yes, only 1 or 2 out of every 10 people you invite to church, or to a church activity, or to a Bible study might come. Here’s the thing – 100% of those you don’t invite won’t come. God himself risks our rejection of him. Jesus came and died anyway, knowing many would reject him, ridicule him, ignore him. He came anyway. So we, as followers of Jesus, we invite anyway. We tell our story anyway.
But this doesn’t mean we get obnoxious. We don’t need to go door to door. Or argue with people on social media. “Always being prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.” Gentleness and respect. Not arrogance and obnoxiousness. But we still share when the opportunity presents itself. And for Paul, every circumstance was an opportunity. Look at Vv. 29-32.
Think about it. He’s in jail. He isn’t on trial here, he’s just sharing before Agrippa and his retinue. But his hands are still bound. He’s in chains. And he’s about to be taken to Rome to appeal his case before Caesar Nero. What do you think he’s going to share with Nero? Exactly what he’s been sharing here. His story. Paul doesn’t need the right circumstances to share. He just shares. Not obnoxiously or without respect. He’s been asked to share. And so he tells his story.
Always be ready to share. And we earn the right and maybe even the invitation to share when we actively love those around us who are hurting. James, in James 2:15-16, says, “If a brother or sister is poorly clothed and lacking in daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace, be warmed and filled,” without giving them the things needed for the body, what good is that?” That’s a rhetorical question, by the way. James assumes we know the answer – it isn’t any good at all!
Jesus, in Matthew 25:35-40 says, “‘I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”
Following Jesus means loving those around us, up to and including our enemies, without bias and without restraint. And that will, sometimes, create an opportunity to share your own story. So be ready to share it. At Christ Church, we’re really good at the loving those who are struggling part. It’s just a part of who we are. Especially feeding the hungry. But in other ways too.
Look around you this morning. No, I mean really, look around you. Notice who’s here. God has entrusted us with some of his most vulnerable lambs. And that’s no small thing. Of all the churches God could have brought them to, he brought them here. Because he knows your hearts. He knows that you’ll care for and protect them. That you’ll fight for them when they can’t fight for themselves. It isn’t shiny or flashy or cool. Not for now anyway. But it’s the highest of honors. God has entrusted some of his most vulnerable lambs … to you. So when the door opens over and over again during the service, or when someone talks loudly, we don’t complain and we had better not snip at someone. They don’t mean it. But we are not going to sacrifice the heart God is looking for in his church so that we can look cool and flashy and hip.
We’re going to keep reaching out, keep loving, and keep serving, and we’re going to be patient with those who don’t treat us the best, who don’t appreciate what we’re doing. If you can’t do that … if you want to yell and fuss and fight back when a guest at the pantry or meal speaks harshly, you can’t serve on the front lines. And yes, keep sharing our stories with those who will listen. We can’t neglect that part of it. Every circumstance, good and bad, is an opportunity to share.
Paul could have walked, had he not appealed to Caesar. Sure, he might have been assassinated clandestinely by the Jewish council had that happened. But Paul wasn’t exactly walking into safe waters in Rome either. He was going to see Nero, who was still rather peaceful at the moment but would become a lethal persecutor of the church. But, to use the words of the musical “Hamilton,” Paul wasn’t going to give away his shot. He was taking it. “I appeal to Caesar.” Even prison cells and chains on his arms and legs were opportunities to share his story – the story of a one-time persecutor of the church who had been knocked off his horse and blinded by Jesus, and then commissioned to do something that his sensibilities as a Pharisee would have considered unthinkable – to share the good news of Jesus with … everyone. Jew and gentile alike.
John Stott was a British Anglican priest and theologian and an author well-loved by Christians all over the world. On one visit he took to America, he said this: “You know what your own country is like. I’m a visitor, and I wouldn’t presume to speak about America. But I know what Great Britain is like. I know something about the growing dishonesty, corruption, immorality, violence, pornography, the diminishing respect for human life …
Whose fault is it? Let me put it like this: if the house is dark at night, there is no sense in blaming the house. That’s what happens when the sun goes down. The question to ask is, “Where is the light?”
If meat goes bad, there is no sense in blaming the meat. That is what happens when the bacteria are allowed to breed unchecked. The question to ask is, “Where is the salt?”
If society becomes corrupt like a dark night or stinking fish, there’s no sense in blaming society. That’s what happens when fallen human society is left to itself and human evil is unrestrained and unchecked. The question to ask is “Where is the church?”[ii]
Don’t give away your shot. Speak up and speak out, with gentleness and respect. Love others in deed. And share your story. What happens next is up to God. Let’s pray.
[i] Adapted from Evelyne A. Reisacher, Joyful Witness in the Muslim World, (Baker Academic, 2016), pgs. 112-113.
[ii] John Stott, “Christians: Salt and Light,” Preaching Today, Tape No. 109.