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Jen Hale Christy

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We’re NOT Making America Great Again

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The prophecy of Isaiah 61 is being fulfilled right now. We are in the midst of an apocalypse – a great unveiling of the way things really are. And we who once were blind can no longer live as if we do not see. Prophets are crying out in our streets daily, #letmelive #Icantbreathe #BlackLivesMatter and freedom is on the horizon. Will the church partner with God to usher in release for the captives? Will the church embody Good News for the oppressed? How will the history books tell the story of the church in this era? The following is the transcript of S5E1, “We’re NOT Making America Great Again.”

Isaiah 61

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me,
because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives,
and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to provide for those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a garland instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the Lord, to display his glory.
They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities,
the devastations of many generations.

Strangers shall stand and feed your flocks,
foreigners shall till your land and dress your vines;
but you shall be called priests of the Lord,
you shall be named ministers of our God;
you shall enjoy the wealth of the nations,
and in their riches you shall glory.
Because their shame was double,
and dishonor was proclaimed as their lot,
therefore they shall possess a double portion;
everlasting joy shall be theirs.

For I the Lord love justice,
I hate robbery and wrongdoing;
I will faithfully give them their recompense,
and I will make an everlasting covenant with them.
Their descendants shall be known among the nations,
and their offspring among the peoples;
all who see them shall acknowledge
that they are a people whom the Lord has blessed.
I will greatly rejoice in the Lord,
my whole being shall exult in my God;
for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation,
he has covered me with the robe of righteousness,
as a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
For as the earth brings forth its shoots,
and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up,
so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise
to spring up before all the nations.

Do you remember in the story of Jesus according to Luke, when Jesus goes to his hometown and goes where all the religious people are gathered and he preaches from this text? He stood in front of a crowd of people he grew up with, and he took a scroll of scripture and started preaching. He recited the first couple of verses of this section of Isaiah, the part about good news for the oppressed, and binding up the brokenhearted. The part about liberty for the captives, release for the prisoners, and proclaiming the year of the Lord’s favor. 

Do you remember how the people responded? At first they were like – wait. We know this guy, don’t we? I think he grew up around the corner from me. Wow he’s really come a long way. Look at how educated he is. What a great speaker he is. This guy can preach! 

They’re impressed because they think he’s affirming them. They think he’s saying what they want to hear. They *think* he’s reciting a prophecy about *their* liberation. YES! We are sick of being under Roman rule. We love being reminded of God’s promise to liberate us from foreign rule. Amen, and how long, o Lord?

And Jesus senses that they’re misunderstanding and he has to say more. He has to keep going because the fulfillment of this prophecy is not about their liberation. This good news about release from captivity and freedom from oppression – it isn’t for them. It’s about them, but they have it backwards. *They* are the oppressors.

He’s reinterpreting these words from the prophet Isaiah, and now this is a prophecy against them. Jesus says – I came to free these people you’ve been oppressing. I came to liberate people you’ve been holding captive. You, with your rules and regulations, imposing an unbearable burden on people. You, with your purity code and setting yourselves apart – your segregation. Your division. Your misguided belief that you’re better than everyone else. Your faulty belief that your ethnicity has set you apart as special and chosen and holier and better. 

No. You are the oppressors. And I have come to call this out. To liberate those you have been oppressing. To proclaim good news, and to take action to bring about their freedom.

**

What do we do with Isaiah 61? What do we do with Jesus’ repetition of this prophecy? How might we hear these words today?

How do YOU hear these words today? 

The cries of the oppressed are deafening. The brokenhearted are wailing in the streets. Sometimes we preach in metaphors and figures of speech but this is literal. The wails and cries resound throughout our cities and our nation. 

“I can’t breathe.” “Let me live.” “Say their names.” “Black lives matter.”

Do you hear the cries? 

This isn’t the first time these cries have gone out, but many of us have ignored them for far too long. The wails and cries have reached a decibel level that can no longer be ignored. 

And yet, there is denial. 

I am deeply troubled by the deaf ears and the blind eyes. By the tendency of some to say: “No. This isn’t a problem. This is made up. Fake news. Systemic racism isn’t real.”

I am equally troubled by the vitriol coming from both sides–people saying “I’m unfriending you. I’m unfollowing you. I disagree so sharply with an article or comment you shared on social media, that I’ve decided to publicly shame you by announcing my removal of you from my community.” I’ve seen this more than once in the last week and it’s gnawing at me. It’s grating like nails on a chalkboard. How did we get ourselves into this hateful mess? 

We are more polarized now as a country than I’ve seen yet in my 40 years.

We are polarized and charged and fragile.

Tensions are skyrocketing. We’re shouting our opinions and beliefs through social media microphones. The powers and principalities that have always been at work in the background are now being openly observed, critiqued, and argued about. Injustices are being called out. Systemic evils are being revealed. Defenses are being raised. Individual and institutional power is being challenged and feels threatened. This is quite an apocalypse.

**

And in some ways, as horrifying and painful as it is, we need this apocalypse. We need the curtain to be pulled back. We need the veil to be lifted so we can see what is really real. To see the Matrix that’s always been at work behind the facade. Because racial bias and systemic racism didn’t just happen. Black people did not only *recently* begin to suffer violence at the hands of law enforcement or the criminal justice system. The seeds of racism were sown hundreds of years ago, and the weeds have been growing wild and tall ever since. The seeds have been scattered far and wide, so that none of our country appears to be untouched. And at various times when black and brown voices have spoken against this evil, the weeds have been cut back. But the roots grow ever deeper underground. The visible manifestations of racism have morphed and may appear to have improved–we don’t see so many weeds–but the root systems remain vibrant, active, and very much affecting our society. 

As a student of the American public education system, I learned about the American history of slavery, emancipation, segregation, and the Civil Rights Movement. I learned about all of this in broad strokes, and told from the perspective of white people. I think that the history books led me, and perhaps you, to believe that all of this was in the past. That the racial struggle in America was long over. And in particular, in November 2008 I remember crying with relief and happiness that Barack Obama was elected our first Black President. I foolishly believed that our struggle to eradicate racism was nearly over. Not only did I fail to realize that it had largely just shifted underground. I also was unaware of the sheer size of the population who did not *want* to eradicate racism. 

Moreover, I did not realize racism wasn’t the only problem. It was not enough to simply consider oneself “not racist,” because you don’t engage in any overtly racist practices or speech. trying to deny the racial biases that exist in all of us. I have to actively work to become anti-racist. It requires some painful confessions. How much have the media’s portrayals of Black and brown criminals being pursued by white heroes infiltrated my subconscious? Is it easier for my sympathy to be stirred over violence against a white body than a Black body? Is my instinct to be surprised–even if pleasantly–when Black and brown people advance to the highest levels of education or authority? I have to interrogate these biases, and root out the evil that lives within me.

I’m of course indebted to the good work of Ibram X. Kendi for introducing me to the idea of anti-racism, and the reality that racism is an evil that must be actively and continuously resisted, pushed against, working to dig out those biases and beliefs that have long and deeply been internalized over a lifetime. I’m also indebted to the work of Austin Channing Brown in “I’m Still Here: Black Dignity in a World Made for Whiteness.” She is not the first to alert me to some of the experiences of Black people – ranging from mildly irritating to outright horrifying. But she is the most recent. 

And I confess that although I first heard the term “white privilege” as a freshman in college, I didn’t spend too much time thinking about it. I had a professor who talked about how band-aids were made to match the skin tones of white people, and how you could buy a crayon or nylons in the shade of “nude” or “flesh” and that was by default, the color of a white person’s body. It was then that I was introduced to the idea that I inhabited a world made for whiteness. But I wasn’t sure what to do about it. I let it fade into the recesses of my mind.

As a white American woman, I live most of my days blind to my privilege. 

I have been blind to how the color of my skin gives rise to the trust and kindness of strangers, rather than suspicion. 

How the color of my skin affords me the freedom to walk, run, drive, or shop without fear of being watched, suspected, or arrested. 

How I’ve never once thought about talking to my kids about the color of their skin. About how people will treat them because of the color of their skin, or how to avoid trouble with the police. 

How I’ve never wondered if I might not get the job because of my skin.

How I’ve never worried I might not be able to rent an apartment because of the color of my skin.

Blindness. 

How many years have I spent privileging and prioritizing white voices as authorities? 

How much of my knowledge of America’s history has only come from listening to the white-male-colonial-manifest-destiny-bootstrap-theory narrative?

How many years have I spent imagining light skin and blue eyes when I hear the name Jesus?

How many years have I existed, never consciously considering that I inhabit a world made for whiteness, and how this world might be experienced so differently by people with different colors of skin?

It’s not intentional. It’s not malicious. It’s not cause for defensiveness.

That’s not to say there isn’t malicious intent out there, because there absolutely is. Although I once thought we were done with that, there is overt white supremacy and racism in this country. And that must be dealt with as well. But what I’m talking about is blindness. The ways in which white supremacy has slipped under the radar, covertly infecting our systems and institutions, and planting seeds of racial bias.

The ways in which people who have skin color like mine have benefited from this system without even realizing it.

It’s blindness.

But there are prophets among us who are helping the blind to recover their sight. Who are helping us see the biases that are built into the very fabric of our culture and woven into the recesses of our hearts and minds. The biases that privilege those who like me, are wrapped in white skin, and biases that disenfranchise, oppress, and give rise to violence against those who are wrapped in brown and black skin. 

And because those prophets have spoken, we can no longer live in our blindness and say we didn’t know any better. That we didn’t know there was a problem. We can’t pretend to not know any better.

When America herself was a land stolen from her first inhabitants whose very blood was shed for resisting European Colonialism? How can we “make america great again” when America herself was built on the backs of slaves stolen from their homeland? How can we make America great again when her white male founders did not believe in the full value and dignity of every human being? How can we make America great again when the white supremacy that ran through her veins at birth was never squeezed out but just shape shifted from slavery to segregation and Jim Crow to the “war on drugs” and mass incarceration and racial profiling? How can we make America great again when her noble goals and good intentions were overshadowed by her dehumanizing, paternalizing, colonizing, stealing, kidnapping, enslaving, and killing?

We don’t need to make America great again. There is no former glory or perfection that we need to return to. No, we need to turn away from much of our past. We need to recognize it, discuss it, confess and apologize and make amends and offer reparations. We need to repent. We need to heal. And then we need to head in a new direction. We don’t need to make America great again. We need a rebirth. 

America has led the way for the church in some important respects. And sometimes the church has taken the lead. But America is not the shining beacon on the hill that she has claimed to be. In fact, she never will be. She is mighty, yes. She has done good in the world, yes. But for those of us who follow the way of Jesus, America is not the beacon on the hill. The church is called to occupy that space. And the church has failed miserably in this respect. I see precious little difference in the state of race relations in the country and the church. We both have a long way to go. 

No, right now, neither the church nor America is the shining beacon on the hill. But the world is watching. And what is the world seeing? It’s seeing a country that’s tearing itself apart. People who are screaming past each other, neither one hearing the other. Private citizens and police alike arming themselves with bullets and tear gas to oppose people who are protesting peacefully. A society that’s arguing between fact and opinion. That’s struggling with not “how” but “whether” to grapple with an ugly history that’s well-known but consciously ignored. America and the church – we both have a long way to go.

I’m not naive enough to think this will happen quickly. When it’s in the air we breathe, it’ll take years of hard labor to clear out the pollution. Especially when we don’t all recognize it as pollution. When some among us are happy with the way things are. But this is a place where the church can lead. Where the church can be the light shining on the hill that she was always intended to be. Embodying hope and the ways of Jesus as only she can do.

We have to start the difficult work of dismantling. It’s going to be painful. Especially for those of us who have long benefited from the systems of oppression. Those of us who have enjoyed privileges based on the color of our skin, even if we didn’t know it. It’s going to be hard and painful, but it’s necessary. 

There were generations of people enslaved in this country, people whose own grandparents were slaves, and whose grandchildren also became slaves. People whose ancestry in both directions only knew shackles. 

It took generations to pull that system apart and we went to war and died for it. But even war couldn’t undo the evil. Our current war, though, is not against other citizens of our nation. Our current war is not against our friends or family who disagree. Our current war is an internal one–in each of our hearts. Our struggle is to open our eyes. 

It’s not shouting into submission the Facebook friend who has a different opinion. It’s not screaming “facts” and responding “blind opinions!” The pain we have to go through now is looking back and recognizing privilege, blindness, confessing our ignorance. Admitting the biases that exist deep down, the ones we wish weren’t there but they are. And letting the defenses around those armies fall. Our war is not against flesh and blood, but against the powers and principalities. The powers that have planted seeds of prejudice–whether we helped to plant them or we inherited them–we have to pull out the roots. Our war now is to dig them up, root them out, make sure they never grow there again.

Listening is a good start. Learning is critical. But we also have to take action. Because the Year of the Lord’s Favor has been proclaimed. Release for the captives, liberation for those oppressed. Good news for the poor and recovery of sight for the blind. The year of the lord’s favor is here – it has been ushered in and it’s not going away. 

The prophets have spoken and are indeed continuing to speak. Church, how will we respond? How will the history books tell this story? Where is your place in it? May the scales fall from your eyes, you who are blind. May you who are in captivity walk in freedom. May we together engage in the long, hard work of dismantling the racism and white supremacy that are infecting our country and the church. 

May it be so.

Show Notes

S5E1: “We’re NOT Making America Great Again” with Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Wednesday, July 1, 2020
PreacHer Podcast
PreacHer: Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Summary: The prophecy of Isaiah 61 is being fulfilled right now. We are in the midst of an apocalypse – a great unveiling of the way things really are. And we who once were blind can no longer live as if we do not see. Prophets are crying out in our streets daily, #letmelive #Icantbreathe #BlackLivesMatter and freedom is on the horizon. Will the church partner with God to usher in release for the captives? Will the church embody Good News for the oppressed? How will the history books tell the story of the church in this era?

Resources + Social Media Handles:

  • All of Jen Hale Christy’s Links

What to do next:

Shouts of gratitude to our patron partners!

Sarah P, Lauren R, Mark F, Dave H, Steve G, Sheila B, Tom B

God is Our Refuge?

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I’ve been dwelling in Psalm 46 lately. Many years ago, I preached a sermon on this text. As it turns out, the text has even more to teach me today. As it grew and took shape, the sermon presented itself as two sermons. So today on the podcast, I preached on the first part of Psalm 46, and I expect the second part to be released next week. Here’s the transcript:

Our message today comes from Psalm 46. 

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in our distresses.
Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change and the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, and the mountains tremble with its tumult.

There is a river whose streams make joyful the city of God—the holy tabernacle of the Most High. God is in her midst, she will not be shaken. God will help her before morning breaks.
Nations rage, kingdoms shake; He utters his voice, the earth melts.
YHWH of hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge.

Come, behold the works of YHWH, what horrors he has set on the earth.
He causes wars to cease to the end of the earth; he breaks the bow and cuts off the spear. He burns the chariots with fire.
Be still and know that I am God. I am exalted among the nations, I am exalted among the earth. YHWH of hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge.

The word of the Lord.

**

The 46th Psalm has a very odd flow—or lack of flow—to it. There is this refrain of ‘God is our refuge,’ and war language, and right smack in the middle of it there is this description of a city with a river that seems so out of place. As the psalmist begins, the words are almost trite. We’re all nodding our heads and buying into what they are saying. 

God is our refuge—Amen. We will not fear—nope, we’re not afraid. Even though the earth changes and shakes, we’re not afraid. Because God is our refuge and strength—our help in times of trouble. We still regularly proclaim this message in the church, don’t we? We sing songs like “you, oh Lord are my refuge” and “rock of ages,” “hide me away, O Lord,” and countless others. 

But is this really our response? When the pandemic reaches our nation, and cases start multiplying uncontrollably? When the earth shakes and the mountains tremble. When wildfires rage and hurricanes rip through cities and earthquakes bring devastation? When our nation is teetering on the brink of chaos as we finally begin to reckon with centuries of race-based oppression and violence? 

Do we clear our throats and sing loudly about the Lord of hosts who is with us, the God of Jacob who is our refuge? Or do we stumble and have trouble believing that God is even still here? What does our faith look like in the midst of a shaking earth and a raging sea? In the midst of waiting for test results and watching the protests and riots? What happens to our faith when the myth that ours is a “Christian” nation comes crashing down? When we realize that American Christianity has been co-opted by nationalism, capitalism, and white supremacy? 

We can sing all we want about God being our refuge in times of trouble, but when times of trouble come, the reality is – we’re looking elsewhere. We look to ourselves and others for refuge. We turn to the news, desperate to figure out what’s going on. We turn to social media, sometimes irritated that all we see are posts about the pandemic or racism, and other times equally irritated when we see the rare post that has nothing to do with these huge national and international issues and we think how can you post about what you ate for breakfast when we are in the midst of multiple crises?!?

It’s not that we shouldn’t lean on others and help one another, but do we really think we don’t need God? I’ll be the first to admit that my prayer and worship life has suffered over the last four months. I don’t know where to start. And even if I can affirm theologically; mentally agree that God is sovereign,…my faith struggles to keep up. When everything seems to be getting so much worse with rarely a sign of hope…my faith struggles to keep up. When my dear friend is losing her battle with cancer, in spite of thousands of people around the world who have been fervently praying for three and a half years…my faith struggles to keep up. 

It’s not that I’m losing faith in God, or am particularly upset with God. Although maybe I am because–God, you could do something about my friend. It wouldn’t be hard for you. She’s only 37 years old and she’s a really good person. As a nurse, she’s dedicated her life to being your literal hands and feet for people whose bodies need care. She was doing your good work of healing and restoration in the world. She’s followed you her whole life, and she and her husband are raising their daughters to follow you too. And don’t get me started on her husband. Because we were hardly out of high school when he watched his mom slowly suffer and lose her battle to cancer. Then his stepdad. And later he lost his dad too. He’s lost TOO much already. How can you just sit there and NOT stop his wife from dying?!?

I hear the psalmist saying that you’re our refuge and strength. What I really want, though, is for you to be the great healer. We have been asking, begging for a miracle. What are we supposed to do when you don’t come through? When the answer is no, or just silence??

God is our refuge and strength. The thing is, though, and sometimes I really hate this – the psalmist does *not* say that there won’t be any more storms. The psalmist does *not* say that if we put our faith in God, there won’t be any more earthquakes or cancer or loss. The psalmist says that God is our help in times of trouble. A “very present help in our distresses.” 

Friends we have been struggling under the weight of a massive pile of distresses. The pandemic was a heavy one, but it wasn’t the first. And the current state of race relations is a heavy one, but it won’t be the last. Maybe you have lost someone close to you recently, or like me the loss is imminent and that’s a different sort of grief. 

We are struggling under these burdens and they are taking an actual, physical toll.  And I don’t think I can keep walking with all of this weight on my back. The physical pain that drives me to the chiropractor and the ibuprofen, only to need it all over again two days later – that’s how I know I can’t keep doing this. My body is screaming at me to do something different. And God’s word reveals a big part of the problem.

How can I claim that God is our refuge and strength, and then not even *try* to depend on God in this crisis? But I don’t know where to start or what to pray. The psalmist has an answer to that objection. Be still and know that God is God and we are not. 

You know what I think that partly means? Not trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. You know what else I think it means? Not filling every moment of every day with words and noise–with books and audiobooks and zoom calls and text chats and music and conversation and Netflix all day long from the time your head is off the pillow until it crashes back into it at night. 

I think it means spending some time in stillness and quiet. That just feels so hard right now. The quiet is where I might hear something I don’t want to hear. In the stillness I might have to face some anxieties and realities that I’ve been trying to manage by drowning them out with *all* the noise *all* day long.

And right there in the middle of the pandemic and racial unrest and grief, there is a Holy City. The psalmist invites us to look into this new reality that we can’t quite yet see. The author is painting a vision of the future city of God. The psalmist talks about the New Jerusalem and uses the language of poets and prophets. There’s a city with a river flowing through it that gives life to everything in the city. This is the language used in Ezekiel 47 and Revelation 22. The New Jerusalem is envisioned sort of as a second Eden, with the river that brings fresh water to trees and they bear fruit all year-round. This New Jerusalem is marked by endless light and life and the presence of God. And because God is in this Holy City, nothing can harm it. A mighty fortress is our God…

But we are not yet citizens of the New Jerusalem. We don’t still live in the Old Jerusalem, but we aren’t in the new city yet. We live in the in-between times. The already and the not yet. God’s community has come near, we can see signs and we can point to it… But we’re living in hopeful anticipation of its fullness. There’s a new community emerging under the watchful care and loving guidance of God, and we are witnesses to it. The nations are raging, empires rise and fall. But God’s voice melts the earth. The same voice that spoke all of creation into existence is the voice that speaks to us today. 

Be still and know that I am God. Be still. 

God is our refuge and strength. An ever-present, always-with-us, never-abandoning-us helper. A parent who sees us, who hears our cries, and who knows us better than we know ourselves. Maybe you’ve had a person in your life who has just been a rock for you, a safe harbor, a refuge. That’s who God is and who God wants to be for us. Our refuge and strength.

There is so much more to be said, about this Psalm and what’s going on in our world. And we’re going to say more about this Psalm next week. But for now, for today, be still. Peace be with you.

Show Notes

S5E2: “God is Our Refuge?” with Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Wednesday, July 8, 2020
PreacHer Podcast
PreacHer: Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Summary: What does faith look like in the midst of chaos and loss? The book of Psalms is full of praise and lament, encouragement and conviction. In this episode, we turn to Psalm 46 for a word of encouragement. Be still and know that God is God, and we are not. This is part 1, and part 2 is coming..

Resources + Social Media Handles:

  • All of Jen Hale Christy’s Links

What to do next:

Shouts of gratitude to our patron partners!

Sarah P, Lauren R, Mark F, Dave H, Steve G, Sheila B, Tom B

S4E7: Car Wrecks and Interruptions

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A transcript of S4E7 on the PreacHer Podcast.

Acts 16.11-15 (NRSV)

We set sail from Troas and took a straight course to Samothrace, the following day to Neapolis, and from there to Philippi, which is a leading city of the district of Macedonia and a Roman colony. We remained in this city for some days. On the sabbath day we went outside the gate by the river, where we supposed there was a place of prayer; and we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there. A certain woman named Lydia, a worshiper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul. When she and her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, “If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.” And she prevailed upon us.

There are two points we’re going to take away today–are you ready for them? 

1. There’s a strong connection between an open heart and open hands.
2. It’s important to be interruptible.

**

Nearly 20 years ago, I was finishing up my undergraduate degree in Psychology at UC Davis, and I had no idea what I was doing next. I had been taking education courses to explore whether teaching might be the career for me, and so far all I had discerned was that working with kindergarteners was not my jam.

At that time, my parents were living in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, and I decided to move home after college to look for a teaching job. I was hired to teach Spanish at a private boarding school for girls with “mild emotional disturbances.” And it was quite a job to have at the fresh age of 21, just a few years older than some of the students. I was still feeling a pull to ministry but couldn’t quite name it. 

I requested a catalog from Abilene Christian University to look into graduate school – because that’s what you did back then. Eventually I made my choice – to enroll in the Graduate School of Theology. And I was invited to come out for a visit, see about places to live and get to know some people. 

One of the faculty members in missions, Dr. Gwyneth Curtis, kindly offered to pick me up from DFW, which was about a three hour drive from Abilene. He said he would help me figure out transportation back to Dallas at the end of the weekend. It was a great trip and really solidified that this was the school for me. I met some people who were there for a summer mission workshop, and they just happened to be heading to Dallas on Sunday afternoon when I needed to get back to the airport. It seemed divinely ordained.

On the way, it was pouring down rain. 

Maybe you’ve driven that stretch of I-20 between Abilene and Dallas. Maybe you have done it in the Texas rain–you know what I’m talking about, where it’s just coming in thundering sheets and you can hardly see twenty feet in front of you. 

I was riding shotgun and there were two people in the backseat. We were going about 70 or 75 and the driver was using cruise control. Big mistake. 

One moment we were barreling through this dumping rain, the next minute we were floating – that’s what hydroplaning felt like. Even though we were going over 70 miles per hour, time slowed way down and we were floating, drifting… for what seemed like minutes. We spun and hit the guardrail, and did it again for good measure.

And there we were, in the middle of nowhere on I-20, miles of freeway stretching in both directions with nothing but fields in sight. The airbags have deployed and it takes us a moment to recover from the shock of what just happened. There’s smoke coming from the hood so we all get out of the car and are soaked in a matter of seconds. 

We call 911, and they say they’ll send someone but we don’t even really know where we are or how long it will take for someone to get to us. There are other cars on the road, and as each one approaches, they stop and ask if we need them to call 911. As the police have already been called, there’s nothing they can do so they drive on. 

After we had been standing on the side of the road, next to this demolished, smoking car, for about 15 minutes, a gold-colored Chevy Tahoe pulls over. A kind woman driving her mother somewhere rolls down her window and offers to call 911 for us. When we tell her they’re already on their way, she says “would you like to just sit in our car while you wait so you don’t have to stand out there in the rain?”

They stayed once the police arrived, so we could take turns being sheltered from the rain while the police took their reports. I was increasingly nervous that I would miss my flight, now that we were so far delayed. As the police were almost finished with us, the woman asked if I would like a ride to the airport. We were still more than an hour away. And I don’t know where they were headed, or whether we made them late for something or miss it altogether. I just know they were on their way somewhere, saw some kids who needed help, and they stopped.

They drove me all the way to the airport and I made it back home safely. The kindness of these women still warms my heart and brings me to tears. Who were they? Where were they going? What made them stop?

All I know is they allowed themselves to be interrupted, and showed incredible kindness towards us. These women had open hearts that led to open hands demonstrated through their willingness to let us sit in their car (we were soaked to the bone) AND to drive me all the way to the airport!

**

Today we aren’t on that endlessly long stretch of I-20 between Abilene and Dallas. 

Today we find ourselves on the shore in Philippi. 

Paul just had a vivid dream–remember, in his dream, this man in Macedonia was pleading with Paul for us to come help him! So we sailed from Troas and after a few stops we ended up here in Philippi. And we got here in the middle of the week but we want to find the Jews. So we have to wait a few days until it’s Sabbath and we can try to find the synagogue. We go to the coast because we’re living in the diaspora — the dispersion or scattering of the Jews — and the coast is where the synagogues or “houses of prayer” are located. 

But what we find is a group of women. Now this isn’t the “house of prayer” or synagogue that we’re looking for…because after we teach these women and everyone gets baptized, we’re going to press on in search of the synagogue. 

But here on the beach, while we’re on our way to the synagogue, we meet this rich woman named Lydia and her friends. And I guess we didn’t ever catch whether she’s a Jew or a gentile God-fearer, but we do know that she is devout and she fears God. And she is a woman of considerable means. She deals in purple cloth, and purple fabric is reserved for the wealthy (Luke 16.19) and the royal (1 Macc 10.62). 

Lydia is the owner and head of her household, and has the means to provide hospitality to all of us–to take all of us into her home to stay–so she is doing pretty well for herself. And one thing I notice is that Paul doesn’t offer any judgment or condemnation for her wealth. In fact, we just accept her generous hospitality. And when Luke writes down our story, he highlights it! Because her status and wealth are above ordinary. And this shows that even people of nobility are joining this new movement with us, so it’s credible and it’s on the up and up. 

So Lydia tells us that the Lord opened her heart–and this is a phrase that sounds biblical to us, but it’s actually the only time this term is used in Scripture (except for Maccabees, but that is an apocryphal text). So, God opens her heart to hear the Gospel and the next thing we know, she’s opening her home to us! And I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I think her outer action of hospitality and how she uses her possessions is connected to her inner disposition of having a heart that is open to God. Her outward actions are a sign of her open heart.

This is point number one–there’s a strong connection between an open heart and open hands.

This is the first time we meet Lydia, but she’s about to become one of the most important converts in our movement. She’s the first European convert, and the church that’s founded in Philippi goes on to become the one that supports Paul through thick and thin–they support him financially and emotionally, and he dearly loves this church. 

So while we were on our way to do one thing–it wasn’t our destination–we make a connection with someone that turns out to have a HUGE impact. And maybe–just maybe–THIS is the very thing we are supposed to be doing. None of this would have ever happened if we had not been interruptible while we were “on our way.” 

So point number 2: it’s important to be interruptible.

So this idea of something happening while you’re on your way somewhere, that phrase grabbed me and I realized there’s a lot of stuff that happens in the Bible while someone is on the way to go somewhere else. 

Think about the parable of the Good Samaritan, and how being interruptible – being willing to pause and offer hospitality to a stranger – that was the righteous thing to do. 

And think about when Philip is told to go down to this road that runs through uninhabited desert, and as he’s on the way, he meets this Ethiopian Eunuch who happens to be reading from Isaiah. He shares the Gospel, and the guy is baptized! 

In Mark’s gospel, Peter declares that Jesus is the Messiah–this huge declaration and turning point in the Gospel–and it happens while they’re on the way, headed somewhere else. 

In Matthew and Mark, Jesus predicts his death while they’re on the way to Jerusalem. 

When Jesus encounters the rich young ruler, it’s while he’s on his way somewhere else. 

Jesus healed ten men with leprosy while he was on his way to Jerusalem. 

After Jesus’ resurrection, he appears to two of his disciples on the road to Emmaus–on the way. 

One of my favorites is when Jesus is on his way to see Jairus’ daughter who is on her deathbed. 

And on the way there’s a woman who has been suffering with bleeding for twelve years. And she reaches out and touches the hem of his garment and is healed. And we have this precious moment where he realizes it and he sees her. He sees her and he speaks to her! He speaks to her, and tells her that HER faith has healed her. That’s powerful! 

And the disciples were urging him to keep going and not worry about it when he had felt someone touch him. Remember that? They thought he was being ridiculous because there was a huge crowd pressing in on him. But he knew that something miraculous had happened and he needed to pause and be present to it. Present to this person and acknowledge this moment. Acknowledge the movement of God in this moment. We have to be interruptible to do this!

**

I want to talk about our culture of hurry. Do you often feel like you’re hurrying or rushing through life? Lately things have slowed down significantly with the mandatory stay-at-home orders. But back when life was normal, we often felt hurried in our house. Being on time was frequently a struggle. I could blame the kids, but Dave and I are just as bad. 

And I think a lot of it has to do with only leaving ourselves enough time to get from point A to point B. So often we fail to give ourselves some margin–some extra breathing room in the schedule. So, when someone has a meltdown, doesn’t have their shoes on yet, or has to run back inside for a jacket, it derails everything and makes us late. But when we have that margin built in, it helps us to be interruptible. 

Because when we’re in a hurry, the last thing we want is to be interrupted. But if we’re running early, when we leave ourselves some extra time, it’s no big deal at all to stop and chat, hold the door open for someone, or say yes to someone’s request for help. In fact, there’s even a psychological experiment that was conducted over forty years ago that proves this point. 

**

There’s a widely known experiment that was conducted in the 1970’s at Princeton Theological Seminary by two researchers–Darley and Batson. They looked at the parable of the Good Samaritan, which seems to question whether someone’s religious convictions affect their willingness to help someone. So they designed this experiment in which 40 students–seminary students–they are all in one building completing a questionnaire. Then they’re told to go over to another building to give a talk–some were told they were going to give a talk on vocation, and some were told they were going to talk about the parable of the Good Samaritan. They were told to hurry, but there were different degrees–they were individually told to hurry either a little, somewhat, or a lot. Then when they left the building on the way to the second building, they came across someone (an actor who was part of the study, but they didn’t know that), who was hunched over in the alley in plain sight and in clear need of help. What they found is fascinating! 

It didn’t seem to matter whether these students were hurriedly thinking about the talk they were about to give on jobs or the talk about the Good Samaritan. Simply thinking about the story of the Good Samaritan didn’t make the student any more or less inclined to help. The huge finding was that what they call the “hurry variable” was significantly correlated to the helping behavior. So the more rushed they felt, the less likely they were to help. And the opposite was true. Only 10% of the students in the “high hurry” group offered help, whereas 63% of those in the “low hurry” group helped! 

**

Our text for today ends with an uncertain phrase.  She “prevailed upon us” or “was insistent toward us” — but Luke does not tell us that they accept Lydia’s hospitality. It could be implied, and several translations read with that strong implication but it is unclear. So, did they stay with Lydia or not?

It’s not totally clear if they stayed with Lydia, or if they were in too much of a hurry to get to where they were planning to go–the synagogue.  

When they leave Lydia, things take a turn for the worse. Paul and Timothy meet a slave girl who’s demon possessed and Paul gets them in big trouble when he gets annoyed and casts the demon out. They’re all stripped, beaten and thrown in the maximum security area of the prison. 

And all of this surrounding material has me wondering something. I’m wondering whether Luke wants us to see that Paul is doing everything according to God’s plan and leading, or whether we are to see that Paul is human too and he doesn’t do everything right and look what happens when he doesn’t. 

The spirit of Jesus shows up multiple times saying no, don’t go over there. The man in the dream says come to Macedonia and they do, and they meet Lydia and thus is born what becomes Paul’s strongest supporting church. 

But perhaps Paul doesn’t recognize the importance of this community at the time, because he is trying to get on with the real mission–we were on our way to the synagogue. It’s been nice to get to know you, Lydia and friends, but this wasn’t our mission. 

And on they go, and to prison they are sent. Sure, God is showing up all over the place, working mighty signs through these guys and rescuing them from prison. God is still able to bring about good, beautiful stories from what look like some pretty messed up situations in the moment. 

But I do have a wonderment. What if Paul hadn’t been so eager to find that “real” synagogue? Would they have ended up beaten and in prison? What if he had remained present in the moment with Lydia and her friends on that beach? 

I know, we often believe that everything in the bible happened exactly as it was supposed to. And it’s a little risky to start wondering “what if…” But I wonder whether Luke is revealing to us that perhaps Paul was a little misguided and it had some unfortunate consequences. 

As risky as it is to wonder about what other possible futures there might have been if a biblical character had chosen a different course, I think it is equally risky to assume that these characters were perfect or did everything according to God’s plan.

In this story, we see Paul and his companions first being interruptible–which leads to a critically important church being born. And then, it looks like they get in a hurry again. Just like we all do. 

Perhaps it’s the things that happen “on the way” that are the most important. Maybe all of the “on the way” stuff is everything that makes up a life. And when we focus too much on a particular destination, and hurry to get there, we risk missing all of the stuff on the way. 

**

So I want us to think about what God might want to show us while we’re “on the way…” Think about the in between times in your life right now. When you’re moving from one thing to the next. Maybe you’re still commuting to an office, or maybe your commute is from your bedroom to your living room. Maybe, like me, you only leave your house for a daily walk or jog around the neighborhood and the occasional grocery store run. Many of us don’t have a lot of “on the way” moments like we used to. But we still have them. 

For me, a lot of these “on the way” moments involve my kids. When I’m on the way to start making dinner and Anna wants to show me her drawing. When I’m on the way out for my run and Lane asks me to read to him. When I’m on the way to clean up the kitchen and Lucy asks me to braid her hair. When I’m on the way to my computer for a few minutes of work and Jude wants to show me his Lego creation. 

I wonder what opportunities we have while we are “on our way” somewhere or somehow in process or in transit? How often do we focus so much on the end goal or the destination that we miss what’s happening along the way? How willing are we to be interrupted while we are on the way? 

Think about all of the in-between places of your life right now. If you’re still getting out of the house for any reason, think about the path you will take to get to where you are going. Who might you run into “on the way?” What might God want to show you while you’re “on the way?” Maybe it’s someone in need of help, or maybe it’s help for something you need. 

**

Let’s be interruptible this week. 

One important step we have to take is building in margin. Because when we are running from one thing to the next with only enough time to get from point A to point B, we’re not interruptible. When I’ve waited until 4:55 to start making dinner, I don’t welcome an interruption from my kiddos or have the patience to let them help. 

When we’re feeling rushed, we’re likely not open to things that God might have for us. We don’t have time to stop and with sincerity, ask the cashier or delivery driver how their day is going, because that will make us late. 

Tomorrow, let’s be intentional about the margin of time–if only for one day–so that we can be interrupted by God. And when God interrupts us, let’s tell someone about it! Or journal about it. We have to share these stories because this is the ongoing witness of God’s work in our world. 

May we have open hearts that lead to open hands. And may we be interruptible. May it be so among us. 

Peace to your home.

Show Notes!

S4E7: “Car Wrecks and Interruptions” with Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Wednesday, May 27, 2020
PreacHer Podcast
PreacHer: Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Summary: The openness of our heart will dictate the openness of our hands. Our interruptibility will influence our willingness to notice, listen, serve, and participate in God’s ongoing work in the world. In this episode I share about a terrible car wreck and angels in a Tahoe, busyness and missing the things that matter.

Resources + Social Media Handles:

  • All of Jen Hale Christy’s Links

What to do next:

Shouts of gratitude to our patron partners!

Sarah P, Lauren R, Mark F, Dave H, Steve G, Sheila B, Tom B

God Doesn’t Play Favorites

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Today we are in Acts chapter 10, in the city of Caesarea. But to fully appreciate it, we have to go back and visit Joppa a little. Here’s our text, from Acts 10 verses 1 – 48.

In Caesarea there lived a Roman army officer named Cornelius, who was a captain of the Italian Regiment. He was a devout, God-fearing man, as was everyone in his household. He gave generously to the poor and prayed regularly to God. One afternoon about three o’clock, he had a vision in which he saw an angel of God coming toward him. “Cornelius!” the angel said.

Cornelius stared at him in terror. “What is it, sir?” he asked the angel.

And the angel replied, “Your prayers and gifts to the poor have been received by God as an offering! Now send some men to Joppa, and summon a man named Simon Peter. He is staying with Simon, a tanner who lives near the seashore.”

As soon as the angel was gone, Cornelius called two of his household servants and a devout soldier, one of his personal attendants. He told them what had happened and sent them off to Joppa.

The next day as Cornelius’s messengers were nearing the town, Peter went up on the flat roof to pray. It was about noon, and he was hungry. But while a meal was being prepared, he fell into a trance. He saw the sky open, and something like a large sheet was let down by its four corners. In the sheet were all sorts of animals, reptiles, and birds. Then a voice said to him, “Get up, Peter; kill and eat them.”

“No, Lord,” Peter declared. “I have never eaten anything that our Jewish laws have declared impure and unclean.”

But the voice spoke again: “Do not call something unclean if God has made it clean.” The same vision was repeated three times. 

Then the sheet was suddenly pulled up to heaven.

Peter was very perplexed. What could the vision mean? Just then the men sent by Cornelius found Simon’s house. Standing outside the gate, they asked if a man named Simon Peter was staying there.

Meanwhile, as Peter was puzzling over the vision, the Holy Spirit said to him, “Three men have come looking for you. Get up, go downstairs, and go with them without hesitation. Don’t worry, for I have sent them.”

So Peter went down and said, “I’m the man you are looking for. Why have you come?”

They said, “We were sent by Cornelius, a Roman officer. He is a devout and God-fearing man, well respected by all the Jews. A holy angel instructed him to summon you to his house so that he can hear your message.” So Peter invited the men to stay for the night. The next day he went with them, accompanied by some of the brothers from Joppa.

They arrived in Caesarea the following day. Cornelius was waiting for them and had called together his relatives and close friends. As Peter entered his home, Cornelius fell at his feet and worshiped him. But Peter pulled him up and said, “Stand up! I’m a human being just like you!” So they talked together and went inside, where many others were assembled.

Peter told them, “You know it is against our laws for a Jewish man to enter a Gentile home like this or to associate with you. But God has shown me that I should no longer think of anyone as impure or unclean. So I came without objection as soon as I was sent for. Now tell me why you sent for me.”

Cornelius replied, “Four days ago I was praying in my house about this same time, three o’clock in the afternoon. Suddenly, a man in dazzling clothes was standing in front of me.He told me, ‘Cornelius, your prayer has been heard, and your gifts to the poor have been noticed by God! Now send messengers to Joppa, and summon a man named Simon Peter. He is staying in the home of Simon, a tanner who lives near the seashore.’ So I sent for you at once, and it was good of you to come. Now we are all here, waiting before God to hear the message the Lord has given you.”

Then Peter replied, “I see very clearly that God shows no favoritism. In every nation he accepts those who fear him and do what is right. This is the message of Good News for the people of Israel—that there is peace with God through Jesus Christ, who is Lord of all. You know what happened throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee, after John began preaching his message of baptism. And you know that God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power. Then Jesus went around doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him.

“And we apostles are witnesses of all he did throughout Judea and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a cross, but God raised him to life on the third day. Then God allowed him to appear, not to the general public, but to us whom God had chosen in advance to be his witnesses. We were those who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. And he ordered us to preach everywhere and to testify that Jesus is the one appointed by God to be the judge of all—the living and the dead. He is the one all the prophets testified about, saying that everyone who believes in him will have their sins forgiven through his name.”

Even as Peter was saying these things, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who were listening to the message. The Jewish believers who came with Peter were amazed that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out on the Gentiles, too. For they heard them speaking in other tongues and praising God.

Then Peter asked, “Can anyone object to their being baptized, now that they have received the Holy Spirit just as we did?” So he gave orders for them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Afterward Cornelius asked him to stay with them for several days.

Two weeks ago, we heard from Luke about how important Peter is in the early church. He visits and encourages them, performs miracles in their midst, and many come to faith in Christ because of these signs. 

Our story today is about Peter and Cornelius. Those of us who were at family camp two weeks ago already heard a preview of this from Ben Langford, who talked a lot about Cornelius and the implications for the modern church. 

I want to reach back to that last little line from our passage last week. Just a simple statement about where Peter is staying in Joppa. He’s staying with a guy named Simon, who is a tanner. Remember I told you to try to remember that because it was going to be really important. 

I have never met a tanner, but I have read some about that profession– which is still a profession today. So you know that a tanner is someone who takes the skin of a dead animal and turns it into leather. Do you remember back in the Old Testament where touching the skin of a dead animal makes you unclean? Because this is Simon’s profession, what he does every day, this guy is ritually unclean. At all times. 

Does it get more ritually unclean than being a tanner–working with dead animals and their flesh and blood, every day?? Having pungent animal skins hanging out on your porch to dry, and scrubbing blood off the floor…maybe battling maggot infestations and scavengers who keep trying to get into your shop… I mean this is a gross job for anyone. But for people who were told that coming into contact with a dead animal would make them ritually unclean, this guy’s job is as bad as it gets. 

In the ancient world and in the modern era, tanning is a stinky trade. It’s so repulsive in fact, that in ancient Judaism, it was one of only a few legitimate reasons a woman could divorce her husband–if he was a tanner. For those of you who are very familiar with marriage regulations in ancient Israel, you’ll have to look to the Mishnah for this instruction, it’s not in the Bible. 

This tanning profession is just plain repulsive. It is pushed out to the fringes physically and metaphorically speaking. It is nasty business and the wealthier people don’t want this anywhere near them. So this is a job done among the poor and those lower on the social ladder, who don’t have a choice about who moves into the neighborhood or how bad they make it smell. 

This actually reminds me of a staff retreat that we took when I worked at Pepperdine. My first few years there we would take a fun retreat every May and about 60-70 of us in Student Affairs who would go stay at a nice hotel and have educational sessions, times of worship, team-building, and recreation. When the recession hit, those trips were yanked away and instead we got to have day-long meetings and local excursions. So one year we were at a historic beachfront hotel in Ventura, eating at delicious restaurants, and the next year they loaded us up on a bus and took us to two places. Sun Valley, where our garbage was processed, and Vernon, CA, a city south of LA. 

The visit to Sun Valley was educational in a few ways–it was cool to see how the disposal company took all of our refuse and sorted out what was recyclable, compostable, and what went to the landfill. At that time, they were diverting more than 75% of the refuse meaning less than a quarter of what we tossed in the garbage cans made it to the landfill. 

I’m sure many of you have been to a dump though, and you know what it smells like. It’s terrible. And our trip leader asked us to note the distance from Malibu to Sun Valley–and notice how far our trash traveled, how far away we sent it. Over 40 miles. What did that say about us as a community, that we had an infrastructure that required garbage to be taken that far away to be processed; and what did it say about how we were regarding ‘the other’–those residents of Sun Valley who had to live with the stench of our trash every day. Yuck. Metaphorically and literally, just yuck. 

Then we went to Vernon, CA–a primarily industrial city of about 5 square miles. Vernon has less than 100 residents, no parks, all housing is owned by the city and occupied by city employees; but it has its own power plant and meat packing is the primary industry. You’ll also see rendering plants, food processors, metal-working operations. This isn’t a city that’s designed for people to live in. It is a place for stinky, dirty, toxic industry. Just a few months ago actually, there was a battery recycling plant there that was shut down for long-term arsenic and lead leakage and emissions. Yikes. Not a place you want to live near…

Well on our tour, when we step out of our air conditioned shuttle bus and onto the streets of Vernon, our eyes and noses are filled with the thick gray smog we saw from our windows. The smell is repulsive and literally knocks some of us back. And although the city itself has few residents, it shares its contamination, and emissions, and stench with its neighbors in every direction for miles and miles. A representative of a group called Communities for a Better Environment takes us on what they call a Toxic Tour. This is to raise our awareness of the communities that are most directly impacted by toxics and pollution–namely low-income communities of color. The tour guide talks about the oil refineries, ports, and metal recycling facilities and other industrial byproducts that are linked to asthma, birth defects, and cancer. We hear from local residents who are organizing to hold the industry leaders and government officials accountable for toxic pollution in their neighborhoods. 

It was eye-opening to say the least. I don’t think there was anyone in our group who didn’t go home and immediately take a shower–the stench was that bad; soaking into your clothes and skin. 

And there are a few things I want to pick up on from this stinky tour and trace through our story as we think about Peter at Simon the Tanner’s house. Simon the Tanner is likely on the fringes of society. No one with the means to live elsewhere is going to choose to live near a tannery. Just like the city of Vernon and its neighboring cities–anyone who has the chance gets out of there. So what does that say about Peter that he’s staying with this guy? He’s staying overnight for some unknown period of time in this stinky, filthy, ritually unclean house. Does he have no other options? Was this guy offering the best weekly rate? Or is this a tiny step in his understanding about what makes you clean…? 

And as he’s up there on the roof to pray, you know what smells are wafting up from below–that metallic smell of blood, of animal skins, and chemicals used to process the leather. There’s no escaping or denying where he is staying. His nose gives him an ever-present reminder that he is staying in the unclean home of an unclean man. 

We don’t know his ethnicity or whether he is a believer, all we get to hear about him is his profession and that he’s hospitable in allowing Peter to stay with him. 

And this is another instance in the book of Acts where we encounter someone who is ritually unclean. This time he’s not the main character of the story–like the Ethiopian Eunuch–but, he is giving hospitality to Peter.

And as I think about Peter receiving hospitality from this tanner, I am reminded of the strangely beautiful hospitality I received from strangers in the mountains of Honduras. 

Throughout high school and college and grad school, I went on lots of mission trips, mostly to impoverished areas in Mexico, Honduras, and El Salvador. And each time I stepped into a community for the first time, and saw and smelled how people were living, my knee-jerk reaction was to be disgusted, and sad. The smells and the sights were overwhelming initially… So many people with physical disabilities, malnourishment, and malformed bodies. You see kids searching through the trash to find something to eat or some mistakenly discarded treasure. people living in homes of cardboard and metal roofing, without electricity or plumbing or any of our modern conveniences. Most of these homes didn’t have toilets. There were communal areas where everyone would go–not toilets, mind you–just “areas” that were socially designated as where you go.

The smells were. the. worst. 

No, they didn’t make us use the great outdoors to relieve ourselves. In some places where we went, like schools, there were toilets we could use. And they were like the ones in these pictures. Some difficult navigation, but we made it work.

And on one particular trip in Honduras, it was a medical mission, I remember we traveled to a remote mountain village and set up a small medical station. And all of the local residents knew we were coming and lined up. Everyone got a pill for worms–no tests administered, just as a precaution. Most of what we were treating were a variety of infections that they just needed antibiotics for. But there were also abscesses to be drained. The sights and sounds and smells were not for the faint of heart. 

But the thing they forgot to mention as we were traveling up to this remote area in the mountains–was that there were not restroom facilities. Our little medical station was just a gathering place with partial shade where we set up shop. And when I inquired about a bathroom, someone from the village was nominated to show me the way. They led me on a small journey on winding roads past several homes until they found just the right one–the family that had an outhouse. There wasn’t electricity or plumbing, but there was a toilet on top of a deep hole. And the family graciously greeted us and handed me a roll of toilet paper to take to the outhouse.

And I don’t know how many of you have been in a context like this, but toilet paper was a precious commodity there–many people in this village and in the mountains did not have toilets, let alone toilet paper. But they took me to the home where they knew the owner had the best toilet, which was private, and also toilet paper. And that owner was incredibly kind and hospitable not only in allowing me to use their toilet, but also in giving me their precious roll of toilet paper to use. It’s hard to imagine given the world in which most of us live. But this was a big deal. 

And for some crazy reason, this story about Peter staying with the Tanner got me thinking about the toilets in Honduras. Because it seems to me that accepting the hospitality of “the other” is critical to accepting and embracing those who God has already included. It’s a big part of what breaks down the dividing wall. Being willing to walk the stinky streets that are filled with toxic air. Being open to hearing that the filth in the air is because of our consumption, because of our economic demands for particular products and particular prices. Accepting the hospitality of the locals who are eager to share freely with us about the environmental impacts of our way of life.

Friends, God was already there. We weren’t on mission to “bring God” to the stinky streets of Sun Valley. We weren’t waving the banner of God’s restorative justice and concern for the poor when we visited Vernon. And in Honduras–although we went there on what we called a medical “mission” trip, it wasn’t primarily us bringing the love of God to the people of Honduras. Through accepting the hospitality of the locals–strangers–we came to learn that God was already there.

God had gone before us and was already at work. We got to show up, and serve as learners and partners. 

And it seems to me that as Peter was staying in the home of Simon the Tanner, accepting the hospitality of this ritually unclean man–that is when and how he knew that God was already there. God had gone before him, and he was not “bringing God” to them–rather, God was already at work. Peter just got to show up and partner in what God was up to. Thank goodness he was listening. 

But it wasn’t quite as simple as that. It’s a slow process of revelation for Peter.

The significance of the sheet with the animals coming down seems like it could go a few different ways. And Peter was perplexed by it. God’s telling Peter that no longer should they consider these things unclean–God has made them clean. But what things is he referring to? Is it the animal carcasses, the animals that used to be off-limits for eating, or is this a metaphor for the people they have considered unclean? 

I mean on the one hand, Peter is staying in the home of a tanner, where there are animal skins and blood, and if you touch them you’re considered to be unclean for the whole day. So the vision could be about this–saying that it no longer makes you “unclean” to touch the carcass. Or maybe the food that’s prepared for him in this house isn’t kosher–and the vision is a way of saying that the Jewish dietary restrictions no longer apply? Maybe, but those things aren’t in the text.

If we look at the context of the vision, we see that while Peter gets the vision with the sheet and the animals, Cornelius gets a vision that tells him to get Peter to come and share his message with them. And since our story is about the conversion of Gentiles–whom the Jews have historically labeled as unclean–it seems that at least one probable meaning of vision is that the sheet with the animals is a metaphor for the cleanness of people. That God is telling Peter to no longer consider unclean those people whom God has made clean.

In other words, that God is the one who gets to decide.

SO here we have Peter. And he’s faced with a critical decision while he is at Cornelius’ house. Will he accept what God seems to be up to here, name it and partner with God? Think about who Peter is. He’s Simon, son of Jonah. (Remember Jonah–the guy who God chose to preach a word of repentance to people that Jonah didn’t want saved…Jonah wanted to decide who was in and who was out…Peter has to decide whether he’ll continue to walk in the way of Jonah or follow God into an unknown future) And he’s a fisherman. Ironic? Sometimes I wonder if little details like that are in there for humor rather than historical accuracy.

Anyway, we remember when Simon (Peter) was called–it was Simon and Andrew who were brothers, and James and John who were also brothers. So these four guys were out fishing together–because that was their job. And they are the first ones Jesus calls. Remember that Jesus changes Simon’s name to Peter. Later Peter, James, and John become the tight inner circle among the 12–they’re the ones Jesus lets accompany him when everyone else stays behind. And they feature prominently throughout the gospels. But Simon Peter is a fisherman. He’s not one of the teachers of the law; he’s a commoner. And he messes up like crazy. 

Remember when he denied Jesus THREE times right before his crucifixion? And isn’t it interesting that here in our story it takes three times with the sheet thing for Peter? That is something I had never noticed before. It says that it happens three times. And I imagine it as three times the voice saying “get up peter, kill and eat.” and three times, Peter protests, “oh no, nothing unclean has ever touched my mouth! I won’t do it!” Three times. Just like his three times denying Jesus, and then three times Jesus asking him to “feed my sheep.” Three times we have this scenario with the sheet and the voice. This is the THIRD time for one of these little episodes where it takes THREE times for Peter to finally get it. 

Peter is the quintessential forgiven sinner. And I wonder… I wonder as he is standing in Cornelius’ house, hearing his story of an angel appearing to him, I wonder which of Jesus’ words are echoing through his head and heart as he reflects on all of this… Would he be the prodigal son’s older brother, who had always been included, was always with the father, but was jealous and couldn’t accept that this wayward son–who had no right to be included–would be welcomed with open arms? Would he be the man in the parable whose ginormous debt was erased, and who then turned around and severely punished and threatened a man who owed him very little? Would he be like these–people who had been given so much and forgiven so freely, but were unwilling to accept that this grace and forgiveness are for everyone? 

We know how what happens next in this Cornelius and Peter episode. Peter finally gets it. 

“I see very clearly that God shows no favoritism.”

This is HUGE for a Jewish man to say this. A Jewish man whose daily prayers likely included thanking God that he was not born a woman, a gentile, or a slave. You guys have heard of this famous Jewish prayer, right? Now it sounds like we don’t have written record of that prayer before about 200 CE, but this notion of being grateful for being a man (rather than a woman), free (rather than slave), and for one’s ethnicity; that had been around for hundreds of years in Greek culture and so it’s likely that this Jewish prayer was in use at the time. Anyway, for Peter to proclaim that God shows no favoritism–Peter, a Jewish man whose religion is incredibly sectarian–I mean they believe they are THE CHOSEN ONES. They are. For HIM to say “I see very clearly that God shows no favoritism”–that’s HUGE!

And so the message that Peter brings to Cornelius–this whole encounter that’s guided by the Holy Spirit on both ends–the message is a proclamation of God’s truth, a way in which God has already been at work in the world and now Peter sees and accepts it. He says “In every nation God accepts those who fear him and do what is right. This is the message of Good News for the people of Israel—that there is peace with God through Jesus Christ, who is Lord of all.” THIS is the Good News! And while Peter is making this bold proclamation, the Holy Spirit falls on all of the listeners and they start speaking in tongues and praising God. Peter and his Jewish friends don’t need any further evidence. It’s time for baptism. 

And doesn’t Luke do a fun little thing here with the language–remember in the story with Philip and the Ethiopian Eunuch, the Ethiopian was the one to say “look, there’s water–does anything prevent me from being baptized?” Here with Peter and Cornelius, Peter is the one to say “can anyone object to their being baptized?” And so we see that as the believers interact with Gentiles, they’re learning about God’s work in the world and they’re getting quicker in naming and proclaiming it. 

So here’s where this hits home for us: I want you to consider someone you have always believed to be on the outside–maybe we have rejected them historically or still reject them, or they get marginal, partial acceptance. Think about a person or people group that fits that description… And let’s hold that together with what we learned and considered about Peter today.

Because Peter was faced with a huge decision when he went to Cornelius’ house. But rather than hang onto the power of deciding who is in or out, he lets go of that and proclaims that he sees God doing a new thing here. He realizes that God doesn’t show favoritism but accepts everyone. He realizes that his attitudes and behaviors need to change as well. He affirms God as JUDGE–God is the one who decides who is in or out. Peter’s responsibility is to accept and live into God’s reality. And so I wonder:

Where do we see this today?

Who have we excluded? Where have we been guilty of trying to declare who is in or out? About whom and to whom do we need to proclaim that now we see clearly that God does not show favoritism but accepts people from every nation who fear him and do what is right…? Changing our patterns of thought and beliefs and behaviors–that doesn’t come easily or without pain and struggle. And it takes time. As we go out today, I hope you will continue to wrestle with the implications of Peter’s words for us today. 

S4E4 Show Notes:

Wednesday, May 6, 2020
PreacHer Podcast
PreacHer: Jen Hale Christy

Summary: This is the third time that it has taken Peter three times to get it. For the message to sink in. But when it does, watch out world–Peter is relentless on a mission to declare the good news that God is FOR EVERYONE.

Resources + Social Media Handles:

  • All of Jen Hale Christy’s Links

What to do next:

Shouts of gratitude to our patron partners!

Sarah P, Lauren R, Mark F, Dave H, Steve G, Sheila B, Tom B

Who Is This Story About?

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[Transcript of S4E1: “Who Is This Story About?” on PreacHer Podcast]

Welcome to Season 4, Episode 1 of PreacHer. I’m your host, Jen, and today I’m sharing a message from Acts 8, verses 26 through 40. Remember that in our last episode, Stephen was stoned—or rather, lynched by an angry mob. There’s one other brief story about a magician named Simon and I’ll just make a quick mention of that during the sermon. Here’s the text.

Acts 8:26-40 (NIV)

26 Now an angel of the Lord said to Philip, “Go south to the road—the desert road—that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.” 27 So he started out, and on his way he met an Ethiopian eunuch, an important official in charge of all the treasury of the Kandake (which means “queen of the Ethiopians”). This man had gone to Jerusalem to worship, 28 and on his way home was sitting in his chariot reading the Book of Isaiah the prophet. 29 The Spirit told Philip, “Go to that chariot and stay near it.”

30 Then Philip ran up to the chariot and heard the man reading Isaiah the prophet. “Do you understand what you are reading?” Philip asked.

31 “How can I,” he s  aid, “unless someone explains it to me?” So he invited Philip to come up and sit with him.

32 This is the passage of Scripture the eunuch was reading:

“He was led like a sheep to the slaughter,

    and as a lamb before its shearer is silent,

    so he did not open his mouth.

33 In his humiliation he was deprived of justice.

    Who can speak of his descendants?

    For his life was taken from the earth.”

34 The eunuch asked Philip, “Tell me, please, who is the prophet talking about, himself or someone else?” 35 Then Philip began with that very passage of Scripture and told him the good news about Jesus.

36 As they traveled along the road, they came to some water and the eunuch said, “Look, here is water. What can stand in the way of my being baptized?” [37]  38 And he gave orders to stop the chariot. Then both Philip and the eunuch went down into the water and Philip baptized him. 39 When they came up out of the water, the Spirit of the Lord suddenly took Philip away, and the eunuch did not see him again, but went on his way rejoicing. 40 Philip, however, appeared at Azotus and traveled about, preaching the gospel in all the towns until he reached Caesarea.

The word of the Lord.

So we’ve been staying in Jerusalem. The Holy Spirit blows through powerfully at Pentecost and the numbers are multiplying faster than they can count. The apostles are preaching, healing, and defending themselves before the authorities. The believers are sharing everything in common, providing for the needs of others, and meeting daily for prayers and meals. 

But then Stephen is stoned, and that ushers in a period of great persecution. And this is a turning point where the church moves outside of Jerusalem and into Samaria. To the ends of the earth… We’re told that wherever they scatter, they preach the word and perform miracles. 

Philip, who we remember was not one of the 12, was one of those seven Greek men who’s supposed to be taking care of the widows. He has received the Spirit, and goes down to Samaria preaching and healing people. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, he’s restoring to wholeness those who have been possessed by evil spirits or unable to walk. Loads of people are believing in the good news of Jesus and being baptized by Philip.

Philip is visited by an Angel of the Lord, who gives pretty specific directions: “Dear Philip, go south on a certain road. The one that goes from Jerusalem to Gaza.” I mean, can you imagine hearing a word from God: Go south on the 101 from Portland to Redding. Um, okay…? 

And what does Philip do? He just goes. We aren’t told that he takes any time to think about it, consult or tell anyone, or even pack. He just goes. The details missing from this story leave us with a lot of questions. 

Did the angel tell Philip why he was going, who he would meet, what to look for? “There’s going to be a man in a chariot. Be sure to brush up on your Isaiah, that’s going to come in handy. Read through your notes from the evangelism class and the cross-cultural communication class. You’re finally going to use that stuff!” The text doesn’t tell us any of this. The angel just says “go;” and Philip goes. 

That’s how it is sometimes, right? Sometimes the Spirit guides someone to do something and tells them why–“you’re going to get pregnant and give birth to the son of God.” “Go into all the world, and make disciples…you will be my witnesses, in Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” 

But other times, we don’t get to know the reason or the outcome. “Go to the land I will show you.” Philip doesn’t get to know anything about anything, the angel just says “go.” And we might imagine his eyes full of wonder, as he ponders in his heart what this could mean, and how God might use him. And we can almost hear him whispering under his breath: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord. Let it be with me according to your word.”

And this stands in stark contrast to what we hear about Simon in the previous story. Also in Samaria, we meet a man named Simon who believes, is baptized, and follows Philip. Peter and John hear good reports and come to Samaria, laying hands on these new believers to give them the gift of the Holy Spirit. 

Being a famous magician, Simon sees this and tries to buy franchise rights to dispense the Holy Spirit. “Hey, that’s a neat trick. Teach me how to do that too. I’d like to add that to my repertoire.” But that’s not how this works. You can’t buy, manipulate, or control the Spirit of God. Instead, you listen and follow. With openness and faith. And that’s what Philip does.

So he goes. With eyes to see and ears attuned to what God is up to, he goes. He’s walking along on this dusty desert road, and we don’t know if he is a few yards or 15 miles into his journey when the angel says “Go to that chariot and stay near it.” Well that’s a little weird, right? “You want me to just go walk next to that guy in the chariot? That chariot that’s obviously royalty and obviously not from around here. That’s not my people… What do you want me to do with that?” 

But again, Philip doesn’t ask questions. “…Here am I…” He just listens and follows. He is open to God’s Spirit, to what God wants to show him. He literally runs to catch up with the chariot that, turns out, an Ethiopian official is riding in. And this Ethiopian official is a eunuch who has just visited Jerusalem, and is reading from the prophet Isaiah. Um, okay…?

This eunuch is an official of the queen; so it’s not too surprising that he is in a chariot and knows how to read. But he has a copy of Isaiah, which may not have been that easy to come by – especially as a Gentile. And, he was presumably on personal business. 

He was visiting Jerusalem as a God-fearer, where he wasn’t even allowed in the temple because his body was maimed. The message for him is “God might love you, but you can’t fully be part of us.” He believes in God, he wants to believe; but who is this story about anyway? Is there anything for me here? 

He’s reading from Isaiah about the Suffering Servant. And just a few lines earlier in the book of Isaiah, the prophet had been talking about the servant whose appearance was so disfigured and marred, people looking at him were appalled. As a eunuch, he must have seen himself in this story. And perhaps that’s why he asked “who is this story about?” Is there anything for me here? The question is not whether God loves the eunuch; that part is settled. The question is whether Philip, as a representative of the church, will include and accept him.

We’re told that Philip shares with him the good news of Jesus. He starts right where the Ethiopian is: Isaiah 53. And we might want him to start with the Law, the Torah–learning about Israel’s history and rituals and regulations. Let’s start at the beginning. Let’s learn the rules first. Because if you want to be part of this thing, even if only marginally, you gotta know this stuff. But that’s not what the text says; it says specifically that Philip started right where the Ethiopian was, and went forward from there.

Did he worry about getting his exegesis and interpretation right, or did he just share about how we all search for and find ourselves in God’s story? Doesn’t sounds like he came in with his “how to come to Jesus” tract or a 5-finger “plan of salvation.” I wonder, did he connect this eunuch with the suffering servant and with Jesus, helping the eunuch to see himself as part of God’s story? Perhaps his rejection in Jerusalem–his inability to enter the Temple–is on the forefront of his mind as he’s traveling back home. And as Philip shares with him the good news, and shares how Jesus was also rejected in Jerusalem, he realizes that he is included in God’s great story. He is fully accepted by Jesus despite his physical alteration, non-Jewish status, and occupation. None of those things prevent him from identifying with the community of faith through Jesus. 

And since nothing is preventing him anymore, when he sees water, he enthusiastically declares that he should be baptized. Now he knows who the story is about. Now, he sees himself fully accepted and welcomed into God’s story. Already he believed, but he was only partially included.

He couldn’t enter the temple and couldn’t fully participate in the community of God’s people. But Philip accepts him as he is, and welcomes him fully into God’s story and God’s people. And as a sign of that, he wants to be baptized, identifying fully with this emerging Jesus movement.

And I wonder, how often have we been Simon–believing and following, but trying to grab and control God’s Spirit. Distorting the message to make it say what we want it to say. Using God-language for our actions or beliefs as a trump card.

And I wonder, who is out there on the fringes…believing and questioning,…wanting to be invited in? Who is out there that God has accepted but we as a community of faith have not yet fully accepted or embraced?

To whom have we said: “Sure you can be part of us; but you’ve got to clean up your act first.” To whom have we said: “I’m not saying that God doesn’t accept you; it’s just that you can’t fully serve here. We have these rules, these practices.” Who among us is sitting on the back row, metaphorically or literally, gifted and called but waiting to be invited in?

Who would we see if only we had the eyes to see?

If we, too, could open ourselves so fully to God’s Spirit, displaying the wonder and faith of Philip, what would we see God doing in our neighborhoods and communities? In what ways would our minds and worlds be blown open by God? Because this–what happened with Philip and the Ethiopian–was radical. Ground-breaking. Philip is millenia ahead of his time, and we still struggle with exclusion.

*Peter* gets the credit for including Gentiles, but Philip had already gone there with this eunuch from Ethiopia, the edge of the known world–literally taking the Gospel to the ends of the earth. In a world that was strictly ordered and segregated, they were blasting through walls of division. In a world of prescribed requirements of ethnicity and lineage and gender and health, they said “God accepts you and so do we.”

We don’t hear much else about Philip except that Paul stays at his house years later, and he’s referred to as an evangelist who has four prophesying daughters. They, too, know who this story is about. Philip’s legacy of faith is continuing through his daughters. And we see in the Ethiopian that if a foreigner who is ceremonially and permanently unclean can come to faith and be accepted, then anyone can. If he can find himself in God’s story, then anyone can.

So when we find ourselves struggling to understand God’s word, wondering if there’s something here for us, or doubting whether we can ever be fully accepted, we find assurance here.

We find the unlikeliest of candidates becoming a follower of Jesus. And when we find ourselves in Simon’s shoes, seeking to capture God’s Spirit, manipulating it for our purposes, may we instead look to the example of Philip, who had a posture of openness and listening, and who followed the Spirit’s leading. Philip knew that this story was about him. But he also knew it was about the Eunuch. He knew that God’s story was for everyone without distinction.

May we, too, be so bold as to proclaim our inclusion in God’s story. And may we be a blessing to others, witnessing to and embodying the truth that they, too, are part of God’s story.

May it be so.

Show Notes

S4E1: “Who Is This Story About?” with Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Wednesday, April 15, 2020
PreacHer Podcast
PreacHer: Dr. Jen Hale Christy

Summary: Sure, Jesus said that the Good News was going out to the ends of the earth–that this was a message for everyone. But did he really mean it? Did he *actually* mean everyone is included? Yes. Yes he did. In this episode we take a ride in a royal chariot to learn God’s unconditional acceptance and embrace of everyone.

Resources + Social Media Handles:

What to do next:

Shouts of gratitude to our patron partners!

Sarah P, Lauren R, Mark F, Dave H, Steve G, Sheila B, Tom B