Jesus, Part 2

Acts 2:42-47

October 17, 2021 • Mount Pleasant UMC

Even though it was over 31 years ago, I still remember it like it was yesterday. Eight of us had gathered in our tiny seminary apartment, sitting on terribly uncomfortable couches and chairs (that had been built for outside use), to watch the final episode of season three of “Star Trek: The Next Generation.” Still today, it stands out as one of the best episodes of the series (and TV Guide ranked it as one of the best TV episodes of all time). The story revolved around the captain being kidnapped by the Borg, these technological horrors whose goal was to make everyone like them. And I remember watching the clock, wondering how in the world they were going to get out of this one before the hour was up. That’s when this happened. Take a look.

Three little words that turned our lives upside down. To. Be. Continued. Now, I know that today, season-ending cliffhangers are common. We almost expect it. But back then, in the spring of 1990, it simply wasn’t done. You didn’t make your viewers wait three months to resolve a storyline. And yet there those words were: To. Be. Continued. Not next week. In September. My friend Brian woke his wife up in the middle of the night that night to ask, “Do you think Captain Picard will be okay?” (And yes, it really was my friend Brian, not me.) Maybe you had to be there, but waiting for that second part made for a very long summer.

This morning, we’re beginning a series based on the second half of a story, the resolution of the cliffhanger at the end of the Gospels. What cliffhanger, you ask? The question of what will happen to the disciples now that Jesus has been crucified and risen. We have four Gospel accounts, but only one of those writers put pen to paper a second time and wrote “the rest of the story” (for those who remember Paul Harvey). The book of Acts is the second half of the Gospel of Luke, written by the same author to the same reader, someone named Theophilus. At the end of the Gospel, the disciples are hanging out in the Temple, praising God. So what happened next? The book of Acts tells us.

But whose “acts” is Luke describing? In many of your Bibles, the title of the book might say, “The Acts of the Apostles,” and even though the titles of the books (and the subtitles in the text) aren’t in the original documents, that title describes the book fairly well. The Apostles do a lot of things in this book. Other folks prefer to call it “The Acts of the Holy Spirit” (cf. Willimon, Interpretation: Acts, pg. 42), because as we’re going to see as we read it together over the next few weeks, there is a huge emphasis on the person and the work of the Holy Spirit in this book. But in the very first verse of this book, Luke himself really tells us whose acts he is going to focus on. He says this: “In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and to teach…” (1:1). Did you catch it? The subject of this book is no different than his Gospel. He intends to tell us what Jesus continued to do through the Apostles and by the power of the Holy Spirit. This book is about Jesus, every bit as much as the Gospel of Luke was. It’s like a big sign was put up at the end of the Gospel of Luke reading, “To be continued.” So we might just as well call this book, “Jesus, Part 2.”

I’m encouraging you to read along as we go through this book, this continuation of Jesus’ story, to see exactly how he worked in the lives of these men and women long ago. But as we work through it on Sunday mornings, I hope you’ll also see that this isn’t dry, dull, boring history, because the same things Jesus did through them he wants to do through us. That’s why I’ve called this series, “The Unfinished Story.” What Jesus began to do then he wants to continue to do in and through us now. The book of Acts doesn’t really have an ending, because the work of Jesus continues down through the centuries and right until today in this place and in your life. The book of Acts is not just about back then and there. It’s about here and now. And the story really starts, or kicks into high gear anyway, on the day of Pentecost.

Pentecost was originally an agricultural festival. It marked the beginning of the wheat harvest in late spring. It was celebrated fifty days after Passover and was the second of the three pilgrimage festivals good Jews were supposed to celebrate (cf. New Interpreter’s Dictionary of the Bible, Vol. 4, pg. 438). A “pilgrimage festival” simply meant you were supposed to make a trek to Jerusalem to celebrate the holiday if you could. On this Pentecost, however, not only were the disciples in Jerusalem, they were doing what they had been told—which, admittedly, is a new thing for them, to do what they had been told. Shortly before he went back to heaven, Jesus had told them to wait for “the gift my Father promised” (1:4) and that they would be “baptized with the Holy Spirit” (1:5). And so they were waiting. For ten days they waited, and on Pentecost, the Holy Spirit came with tongues of fire—and other tongues as well (2:3-4).

Now, some Christians use this as a proof that what is called the gift of tongues or speaking in an unknown prayer language is a requirement to be a full Christian or to give evidence that the Spirit is in you. But the reality is that isn’t what’s happening here. There is discussion of that gift—which is a real gift of the Holy Spirit—elsewhere in the New Testament. But that’s not what happens here. Oh, they do speak in other languages, Luke is clear about that. But the languages they speak here are known languages. They are given the ability to preach the good news about Jesus to all the people who were gathered in Jerusalem so that those out-of-towners hear it in their native tongues. Remember, this is a pilgrimage festival and there are people there from all over the known world. So the Spirit helps them speak to these people in their own languages. Now, I don’t know about you, but I earnestly prayed for this particular gift when I was in high school Spanish class and when I was taking my seminary Greek class, but God did not come through on that like he did then. Now there’s no indication that the disciples retained this gift after this day. It seems to have been a one-time-only gift, and it’s different from the spiritual gift of speaking in tongues. That’s a prayer language; this was a gift given for the purpose of evangelism.

And what’s more—Luke is pretty clear on this—tongues is not the evidence that someone has been filled with the Holy Spirit. Later on, Paul will say he would rather speak five words in an intelligible language than ten thousand words in a tongue (cf. 1 Corinthians 14:19). He routinely lists speaking in tongues at the bottom of his spiritual gifts lists. No, the evidence of the Spirit is a changed life. It’s in what happens next. Let’s look at how Luke describes it in the passage we read this morning.

This short little passage, verses 42-47, is a slice of life, a glimpse of the life of the earliest followers of Jesus, and every time I read it I am challenged by that last verse: “The Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved” (2:47). Did you hear that important word? Daily. Daily! I mean, just on Pentecost alone, 3,000 people were baptized in a single day (2:41). Daily! When was the last time we could say the Lord was adding daily to our number? Wouldn’t that be awesome? So how did they get there? Well, Luke doesn’t intend to give us a step-by-step management plan like people expect today. Instead, he simply gives us glimpses of how those early believers occupied their time, how they lived their lives. What was it about them that led to the Lord adding to their number daily? There are four things in verse 42: “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer.” Teaching, fellowship, breaking bread and prayer. Sounds to me like a recipe for “daily.”

They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching. We have a pretty good idea, from the documents that make up the New Testament, what that teaching consisted of. Of course, in the time which Luke is describing there were no written Gospels, no text describing Jesus’ life, death, resurrection and ascension. So those who wanted to follow Jesus relied heavily on the teachings and the remembrances of those who were with Jesus, his disciples (now known as the Apostles). We know they spent a lot of time showing how Jesus was the fulfillment of all of God’s promises to their ancestors. They taught about Jesus’s life, they shared his teachings, and they most certainly taught about his death and resurrection. And even though people undoubtedly heard the stories over and over again, just like us they needed to hear them regularly in order to be able to remain faithful to their calling. They needed to know what the Gospel is and what it isn’t. It is about Jesus. It is about being faithful to him. It’s not about you or me or our feelings. The Apostles constantly taught about Jesus because they needed to remember that he was what it was all about (cf. Willimon 40).

I fear we are in danger of forgetting that in the modern church. We go from experience to experience, seeking the next spiritual “high” or the best consumer experience, treating faith like it is just something for our benefit. We get just enough “Jesus” to appear religious, or spiritual, or whatever the current buzzword is, but not enough that he can really change us. A few years ago, Willow Creek Church in Chicago released a study that revealed how they had introduced a lot of people to church, but had failed to help them become deeply committed Christians. That’s not just one church’s problem; it’s a problem across the board. Like the church in Ephesus in the book of Revelation (2:4), we’ve forgotten our first love; we’ve moved away from the apostle’s teaching, valuing our feelings above all else. Friends, it’s about Jesus—nothing more, nothing less.

The second element in the life of the early church was fellowship. Okay, we think, we’ve got that one nailed. We even have a Fellowship Hall! We think of “fellowship” as getting together, maybe sharing some food, hanging out, telling some jokes, maybe (if we really want to get crazy) sharing some prayer requests. But that isn’t what passed as “fellowship” in the early church. Luke describes their fellowship this way: “All the believers were together and had everything in common. They sold property and possessions to give to anyone who had need” (2:43-44). There are two elements to fellowship there. First, they were together. This is a challenging one today, but community is essential to our faith and to our growth as human beings. Even introverts are craving people these days; I know because I am one. A couple of weeks ago, I had the option of going to Tennessee for the New Room Conference or watching it online. Online would have been cheaper and involved less travel, of course, but I went to Murfreesboro because I needed to be in worship with other people. There’s something that happens, something I can’t really explain, when we are together. God wired us this way, and I believe that’s part of why faith is so tough these days. We’re not together. And I understand the virus, I know we have to be careful, we have to be wise, but we need each other. In many ways our faith depends on it.

So they were together, and that gave them a different attitude toward their possessions. What they had wasn’t theirs alone; what they had they shared with others. We’re going to look more at this next week, but here at the beginning Luke points out their willingness to share what they had, and this is significant. Dr. Ellsworth Kalas calls it a true miracle because “few matters are more miraculous than a new attitude toward our possessions” (Kalas, The Story Continues, pg. 28). He calls it “joyous generosity” and sees it as a spontaneous response to the presence of the Holy Spirit. Not organized, not a big program, just great hearts willing to share and meet the needs in their community. Sometimes we focus too much on what are called “signs and wonders,” supernatural things that happen when the Holy Spirit shows up. But, really, is there a more miraculous sign than a group of generally selfish people (which we all are) caring for each other with their possessions (cf. Willimon 40)? This is a demonstration of agape, love with no strings attached. It’s an example of what Paul describes in his first letter to the Thessalonians (4:9-12). Paul writes that since they already love each other, they should do so more and more. I think sometimes we read that and we think they should work up warmer or deeper feelings for each other. I’m not sure how you do that, but nevertheless, that’s usually how we read it. What if Paul is thinking of the early church? You love each other? Great! Now do it more and more by caring for each other in real, practical ways (cf. Wright, Acts for Everyone: Part One, pgs. 46-47). Fellowship: be together, care for needs.

And then there’s the Methodist favorite: the breaking of the bread. Finally, we get around to the food! Some scholars see here a reference to communion, and while that’s certainly possible, I’ve come to the conviction that Luke is referring to actually sharing a meal with someone. That was a big deal in their culture, and we know they shared a meal as part of their regular worship. To share a meal with someone meant accepting them. It meant you were on the same level as them, because you generally did not share a table with someone of a lower social status. Unless you were a Christian. That was one of the scandals of the early church: slaves eating at the same table as Roman citizens, Jews eating with Gentiles, no one person considered above the other. Even though the lines between people might exist outside the place of worship, inside they did not matter. The barriers which kept people apart were erased in the fellowship of believers in Jesus (cf. Willimon 41) because Jesus himself had crossed lines, broken barriers, brought unlikely people together.

There’s another element here, I think, since the Christian faith spread early on among those who had very little in this world: the poor, the disadvantaged, the downcast and the outcast. Later on, Paul gives specific instructions to the church at Corinth for how they are to share a meal together. Basically, it boils down to this: wait for each other. Some, particularly the wealthy who didn’t have to work, were arriving early and eating all the food so that when the poor, who had to work, arrived later, there was nothing left. Paul says they are forgetting who they are. They’re forgetting that in Christ there are no lines. He tells them, “When you gather to eat, you should all eat together” (1 Corinthians 11:33) because part of the purpose of the meal was to make sure no one went hungry. Breaking of the bread.

And the fourth element is prayer. The people of God were to be people of prayer. Prayer, after all, is, as one scholar has put it, “the essential link between Jesus and his people as they carry out his kingdom work under his guidance and by his strength” (Larkin, Acts [IVPNTC], pg. 61). Prayer connects us to heaven. There have been those in the last few years who criticize people of faith for offering prayers in the midst of heartbreak, tragedy and violence. But prayer must always be where we start. I love the way Dr. J. D. Walt said it at the New Room Conference a couple of weeks ago: “Prayer is not the only thing we do, but it is the first thing we do.” Prayer is what empowers us to make a difference in the world. These first disciples were praying when the power of the Holy Spirit came upon them. Then and only then were they compelled to go out into the world and make a difference, make an impact on all those around them. But I fear we have gotten the cart before the horse, so to speak. We’ve reversed the order of our priorities and let “warm-hearted busy-ness” replace Spirit-empowered community (cf. Willimon 42). We’ve allowed our activity to replace our connectivity. We focus more on what we can do than on the one who enables us to do what we do. Prayer isn’t the only thing we do, but it should be the first thing. Prayer is what empowered the early church, and it must be what powers the contemporary church. We can build an institution without prayer, but we cannot build a church without prayer.

“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer” (2:42). And what happened? “The Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved” (2:47). You see, it would be easy, here at the beginning of the church’s story, to become fascinated with Pentecost, but the book of Acts is not the story of a big event or of momentary enthusiasm. The event, the power of the Spirit, leads the followers of Jesus into “four continuing commitments” (cf. Larkin 61) that are all linked together. “You can’t separate them, or leave one out, without damage to the whole thing” (Wright 44).

So let me be blunt: where are we in this picture? Are we even in the picture? We don’t see people being saved daily—or even regularly—and being “added to our number”—why not? Why is the church today struggling, some would say even stagnant? Why is the church today more fascinated with the activities of the latest celebrity than we are with the growth of God’s kingdom? As N. T. Wright says, “The gospel hasn’t changed. God’s power hasn’t diminished. People still need rescuing. What are we doing about it?” (47). Our mission has not changed since the book of Acts. We may say it differently, but it’s the same mission: to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world. Let me ask Wright’s question again: what are we doing about it? You see, the critical part of these four things, these four practices from the early church, is that they set the early believers apart. It made them different, and people noticed. They noticed and they said, “That’s the kind of life I want.” They noticed and they asked, “How can I be a follower of Jesus?” I wonder if we are all that different from the world around us in our daily lives. Maybe no one notices our faith because our daily decisions and the way we live don’t seem distinct. People are not interested in following Jesus because he doesn’t seem to make a difference.

What if the same things that were said of those first followers of Jesus was said of us? “They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching.” Have we devoted ourselves to the teachings of the faith, to the Scriptures, because if we don’t know who we are, we’ll become someone we were never meant to be. I’ve said before, even from this pulpit, that it scares me that for some of us here today and some of us watching online, some of us who are part of this church, the only contact with Scripture we’ll have all week is what you heard me read today. The reality is that we are one of the most Biblically illiterate generations in the history of the church. And because we don’t know what the Bible says, we don’t know who we are, and it results in all the bad theology that shows up online. We might get a verse or two here or there, but that’s not devotion to the apostles’ teaching. That’s snack food, not the feast offered to us in the Word of God. That word we translate as “devoted” means “to be intently engaged in, to attend constantly.” Are we devoted to the apostles’ teaching?

If you follow what Luke is saying, that word “devoted” applies to all of these characteristics, including the next one. “They devoted themselves to…the fellowship.” Are we devoted to being together and to caring for one another in practical ways? Or do we just show up and put in our time? Before the pandemic, folks who considered themselves as “regular church attenders” were present in worship 1.5 times a month; I’m guessing that number has dropped since the virus hit but I couldn’t find any research yet to back up my assumption. As a culture, we are more faithful to showing up to Starbucks than we are to the fellowship of believers. At the Starbucks I most often frequent, there is a group of guys who show up every single morning, rain, shine or snow or sleet. They’re devoted to the fellowship. If they didn’t show up, the world’s problems would not get fixed! The early church took being together seriously, so much so that the writer of the letter to the Hebrews had this strong word of advice for his readers: “Let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching” (Hebrews 10:25).

“They devoted themselves to…the fellowship…[and] to the breaking of bread.” The early church was devoted to breaking the barriers that existed between people and they did it in such a simple yet revolutionary way: they did it by eating together. They welcomed those who were unlike them to the table. Maybe they didn’t even like the person who sat across from them, who shared their loaf of bread, but they were still brothers and sisters in Christ. It’s because of this early stance of the church that Paul could later say confidently, “In Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26-28). It’s not that the differences are unimportant. It’s just that they’re not as important as having Jesus in common. Race, creed, ethnicity, gender—it’s all less important than Jesus.

I learned that in practice during my first solo appointment. Before moving to Rensselaer, I’d been part of a church staff and so I didn’t really need any other support system. But suddenly, in an open country church, I was on my own so I sought out other pastors to be with. We had a group of about 15, all from different churches, who got together every Tuesday morning for coffee, tea, support, laughter, and prayer. There was literally every theological perspective represented in that group and so we didn’t always agree. One morning we were discussing some thorny topic when my brother Kenin spoke up and said, “You know, they haven’t solved this in 2,000 years. We’re not going to solve it today. Let’s move on.” He was right. There were a lot of things we disagreed on, but we did agree on Jesus. I’ve experienced that same thing here as pastors gather every week down the hallway, and while we have much in common, we also have a lot of differences—theological, personality, ways of doing ministry, all sorts of differences. But we have Jesus in common, and that makes all the difference in the world. We can gather at the table because of Jesus. When’s the last time you shared coffee or a meal with someone who is different than you?

Then there’s this that Luke just sort of throws in: “and to prayer.” They were devoted to prayer. Are we? According to the Pew Research Center in their “Religious Landscape Study,” only a little better than half of Christians pray in any way daily. About 25% of us never pray at all. In fact, among religious groups, Christians are “out-prayed” by both Jehovah’s Witnesses and Muslims in terms of daily prayer. They pray a whole lot more than we do! Pew also discovered a link between income, education and prayer. Their survey indicates that that the higher the income and the greater the education, the less regular the prayer. In other words, it seems that the more we achieve in this world, the less we tend to turn to and rely on God. So I'll ask again: are we devoted to prayer?

In fact, let me just close with this question, the question I asked a few moments ago: what if these things were said of us? What might happen to Terre Haute, to Vigo county, to the world? Could we get closer to fulfilling our mission: to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the transformation of the world? What if we were in fact devoted to the apostles’ teaching, to fellowship, to breaking bread and to prayer? I don’t know, exactly, what might happen, but I think it might look something like this: “The Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved.” That’s what Jesus “began to do” 2,000 years ago; it’s what he’s still wanting to do today. Let’s pray.