"The crowd joined in attacking [Paul and Silas], and the magistrates had them stripped of their clothing and ordered them to be beaten with rods. After they had given them a severe flogging, they threw them into prison and ordered the jailer to keep them securely. Following these instructions, he put them in the innermost cell and fastened their feet in the stocks. About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly there was an earthquake, so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone's chains were unfastened. When the jailer woke up and saw the prison doors wide open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, since he supposed the prisoners had escaped. But Paul shouted in a loud voice, 'Do not harm yourself, for we are all here'...." [Acts 16:22-28]
This is how the world is changed.
Look, it's simple common sense: if circumstances present with you with an open door and unlocked handcuffs, you make a break for it... right?
And if the guy who was responsible for overseeing your torture and wrongful imprisonment is about to kill himself when he thinks the Romans will do worse than that to him for allowing a jail break, well, again, common sense just says, let him do it to himself--that's not only saving your own skin, but a bonus side order of revenge thrown in there, too. And all you would have to do is hold your tongue when the jailer walks in.
It's common sense, it's conventional wisdom--really, it's just the plain natural inclination of all of us who are bent in on ourselves, either to run, or to stay silent, or to get even.
And while we're talking common sense here, if you and I found ourselves in the predicament of being wrongfully detained like Paul and Silas were here in Acts 16, and we had some impulse to pray, I suspect our prayer would have been something like, "Dear God, get me out of here! And punish the people who did this to us!" We would have had our own necks as our number one concern, and a good ol'-fashioned divine smiting for the people who had persecuted us as a close second, I'd wager. Right? It's all just so obvious.
In this life, you gotta look out for number-one, especially when your own life is on the line... right?
Well, friends, this is what makes Jesus' movement of mercy revolutionary. This is what makes the Reign of God both scandalous and beautiful, both seemingly absurd and sublime: Jesus' movement turns the world upside down as his way of life leads us to question what everybody else calls "common sense" about looking out for ourselves... and instead, points us to a new question: "What could God be up to for good in this situation?" Before we run away, and instead of looking for revenge, the followers of Jesus ask, "How could the Reign of God be made present in this moment?"
That's different from asking, "Why did God make this [fill in the blank with something bad] happen?" And it's different from asking, "What's the one 'right' answer for what God wants me to do in this moment?" Because, in all honesty, sometimes we don't get answers like that. And sometimes, we don't get to see what ripple effects our words and actions will have. But the truly revolutionary power lies in the change of orientation in our questions--from "How can I get what is in my best interest?" to "How could God be at work in this situation?" When we dare to ask that question, we break the pattern of fight-or-flight, the cycle of returning evil for evil, the damned (and I mean that literally) vicious circle of me-fearing-you-which-leads-you-to-fear-me. The new question, "How could the Reign of God be present here in this situation?" forces us to pause and breathe before we break into the old tactics of running away, staying silent, or seeking revenge.
That is what makes this amazing story from Acts so radical. This is the hinge on which a miracle of grace turns. When Paul and Silas are presented with the chance to simply save their own skin, they don't. Not because they are stupid, not because they are unaware, and not because they are gluttons for punishment. They stay in their cells, turning "common sense" upside down, because of the chance they will have to witness to a better way. Their staying in their cell is not an admission that they are guilty of anything, or even a matter of giving up hope of going free. It is an act that allows them to show love to the jailer--real, genuine, world-transforming self-giving love. From this momentary pause, Paul and Silas catch the jailer's attention, save his life, show him in concrete action an example of the love they have known in Jesus, and then to top it all off, they have the chance to share their faith with this jailer and his family. And what do you know--by the end of the night, he and his whole family want to be followers of Jesus and Paul baptizes the very man who had overseen his torture.
Common sense would have told them to run when they had the chance, and to let the jailer suffer. Common sense would have said, "Look, it's fine to be polite to everybody, but these people who beat you and locked you up, they are bad guys, and your life has to be more important than the bad guys!" Conventional wisdom would have said, "Look, it's him or you--you have to save yourself!" Every natural instinct in Paul and Silas would have said, "You have suffered enough--these terrible, closed-minded people in this city assumed you were a troublemaker and detained you because they were afraid of what you might do and they didn't like your religion, and you suffered already for their prejudice when they locked you up! Just leave them to their own devices now!"
But, no... the revolution carries on. No--love finds a new way. No--mercy keeps on moving Paul and Silas, and so they are no longer satisfied to simply ask, "What's in it for me?" Instead, their question became, "How could the Reign of God be present in this moment, and how could we live like that's true, regardless of our supposed self-interest?" And because of that pause to ask a new question, look at the wondrous things that happen! An enemy becomes not merely a friend but a brother. And from there, the followers of Jesus start a community in that city--the city of Philippi--the first toe-holds of the gospel on the continent of Europe. And from there... well, you and me. Our story and our faith, our belonging among the people of Jesus, probably was made possible because of what happened there in Philippi... because two people praying together in jail dared to ask, "How could God's Reign happen here in this situation, even in the face of deep hatred, real wounds, and long-ingrained prejudice?"
Of course it was dangerous. Of course it was risky. Yes, it meant the possibility that Paul and Silas were allowing someone who might have wanted to do them harm to get close to them. The Gospel has always looked like a gamble to the self-centered perspective called "common sense."
But, look--look, and see--what happens when people dare to let the living Jesus turn the old common sense questions upside down. This is how the world is changed--this is the only power that is really new that can change anything: the power of self-giving, cycle-breaking love.
How will you so change the world where you are today?
Lord Jesus, before we run... or stay silent... or look for revenge, show us how your Reign of love, your movement of mercy, could be present in this day, in this hour, in this moment.
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