"Now after these things had been accomplished, Paul resolved in the Spirit to go through Macedonia and Achaia, and then to go on to Jerusalem. He said, 'After I have gone there, I must also see Rome.' So he sent two of his helpers, Timothy and Erastus, to Macedonia, while he himself stayed for some time longer in Asia. About that time no little disturbance broken out concerning the Way. A man named Demetrius, a silversmith who made silver shrines of Artemis, brought no little business to the artisans. These he gathered together, with the workers of the same trade and said, 'Men, you know that we get our wealth from this business. You also see and hear that no only in Ephesus but in almost the whole of Asia this Paul has persuaded and drawn away a considerable number of people by saying that gods made with hands are not gods. And there is danger not only that this great goddess Artemis will be scorned, and she will be deprived of her majesty that brought all Asia and the world to worship her.' When they heard this, they were enraged and shouted 'Great is Artemis of the Ephesians!' The city was filled with confusion; and people rushed together to the theater dragging with them Gaius and Aristarchus, Macedonians who were Paul's travel companions." [Acts 19:21-29]
What happens when the Spirit runs up against the bottom line?
You know, I have to give this much to Demetrius the silversmith here in this episode from the book of Acts: he sees clearly that sometimes the Way of Jesus is bad for business. And he knows that sometimes you have to decide which is more important. You have to decide which god really gets your allegiance, because, in the words of Jesus himself, you cannot serve the living God and Mammon.
Now, Demetrius does see that the message of Jesus and the movement of the Spirit that pushed Paul to keep hanging around there in Ephesus and the surrounding area are affecting their profits. He has a clarity that sometimes we Christians lack, or willfully avoid, because he realizes that there are times when you have to choose between making more money and living the Way of Jesus. Sometimes you have to choose between the promptings of the Spirit and the profits in the second quarter. Demetrius sees that, while often we like to imagine that God must always be in favor of making more, acquiring more, and possessing more.
The tragedy of Demetrius, however, is two-fold. Not only does he pick the wrong side in the divine contest of Profits versus the living God, but he also dresses his decision up in piety to his goddess of choice, Artemis, whose figurines and shrines were made of the silver he peddled. Demetrius has found a way to tell himself (and make himself believe) that he's not greedy--he's pious! His god wants him to get rich--his god's honor is at stake if his business suffers! He can tell himself that he is being devout when he drums up the other silver moguls in town and launches a riot against Paul and his anti-business (from their view) message. It's a clash of us-and-our-way-of-life and... them... those no-good, profit-killing, trouble-making, impious followers of Jesus of Nazareth, he told them. It was a contest of civilizations, Demetrius shouted, as he riled them up. And they had to take a stand against these meddlesome Christians, or else, Paul and his ilk would subvert all that they had built up--their religious system, their business (that neatly went hand-in-glove with that same religious system), and the sway they held over their whole culture.
And, of course, Demetrius is not wrong about the choice between Jesus and another god: you do have to pick one. But it's funny, kind of (in the way "funny" can really mean "sad"), to see how the powers of the day saw Christians once upon a time. You know, if you look up in the archaeological and historical record how the Roman Empire and its accompanying culture viewed Christians in the first few centuries, you may be surprised at the charges they brought against us. They called us "atheists," because we would not worship a god made in statue form, like dear old Demetrius and his silver statues of Artemis. They called us political troublemakers because we would not worship the emperor and would not mouth the loyalty oath they demanded of all: "Caesar is Lord." And when Paul eventually lost his life (most likely in Rome during Nero's reign), it is most likely that the charge was treason.
Why? Why would those early Christians have been seen as such a threat? Why, when we were all supposed to be following the teachings of an itinerant rabbi who wanted us to love everybody? Because, as at least Demetrius saw, the Way of Jesus sometimes really does come head to head against the bottom line. We didn't bring weapons and we didn't try to usurp Caesar with a bloody coup. We didn't raise an army or organize a protest with torches outside city hall or even cut off our associations with non-Christians (as the pagan emperor Julian once noted, we Christians--he called us "impious Galileans"--didn't only take care of our own poor, but the poor of the wider society in which we found ourselves!). The early church didn't look like an insurrectionist party. And yet, our message of a God who isn't all tangled up in the local business establishment and who can't be manipulated by producing more religious trinkets, well that message turned out to be a threat to the order of the day. And the shrewd observers like Demetrius saw that--that the Christian message really could subvert all the other neat and tidy systems we build our lives on, and pull the rug out from under them with its news of a God who doesn't need to be appeased by constructing temples or fed by offering up sacrifices.
And yet--even though the local silversmith trade (and probably a host of other related businesses and industries like the mines, goldsmiths, incense sellers, and farmers raising sacrificial animals for Artemis, Zeus, and the rest) all had branded Paul and his message dangerous and bad for business, the Spirit still led Paul to speak, to witness, and to be willing to be unpopular. Notice that--as Luke tells the story, the Spirit of God leads Paul to the conclusion that he needs to stay where he is at the moment, exactly where it will be an unpopular message that the living and real God doesn't need silver shrines. It wouldn't have been so controversial a message, perhaps, if Paul had been in a different city that had a different local industry, or a different local god-of-choice. It would have been easier for Paul to speak out against the silver idols in a town that didn't have booming silver mines and silversmiths. But that's where the message needed to be brought. And make no mistake: it is the Spirit of the living God who tugs at Paul and helps him to see that he needs to stay where his message will be perceived as an attack on "business" and as "subversive" to the dominant culture. And so instead of closing his mouth, or going somewhere else where his message wouldn't have ruffled so many feathers, Paul responds to the push of the Spirit--and he keeps on speaking the news of Jesus, the God who was embodied in a crucified human life rather than a statue made of precious metal.
I wonder... how will we find the courage if the Spirit tugs at us the same way? I wonder, maybe even underneath that--will we dare to let the Spirit help us to see the unpopular realities when there are times that the Way of Jesus butts up against a bigger profit? Will we be willing to say things like, "The Way of Jesus is more important than wealth and gain?" Will we be willing to be criticized for saying things that affect the silversmiths? Not as an attempt to be politically partisan, but, like Paul, because the central gospel claim (of a God not made with human hands) runs up against business-as-usual? Will we let the Spirit of God lead us still to witness to the Way of Jesus, even if people take it as an attack on our comfortably wasteful consumer society? Even if others say like they did to Paul and to the prophet Amos centuries before him, "Why don't you take that message somewhere else where you won't rile people up?"
A hundred and fifty years ago, Christians were at the leading edge of a national (and international, too, in Britain and the British Empire) call to end slavery, because they were convinced it violated the Way of Jesus--but they spoke up, even when countless powerful interests said, "But it's bad for business to abolish slavery--you're anti-farm and anti-business if you want to set them free!" But they did it anyway, convinced that the same Spirit who spoke to Paul was moving them. Thirty years ago, Christians were at the forefront of a movement that helped end apartheid, in large part because they were willing to say that the Way of Jesus and its equal treatment of all people, all races, was more important that making money in partnerships with companies that profited from apartheid in South Africa. Twenty-five years ago, Christians were willing to be seen as subversives in countries behind the Iron Curtain as Communism crumbled and Christians kept worshiping the living God rather than the oversized metal statues of Lenin and Stalin. And, so that we are clear, in all of those instances, followers of Jesus were branded as troublemakers who were threatening the comfortable arrangements of the silversmiths of the day. Those Spirit-led voices spoke up... and they turned the world upside down... eventually. But in the midst of the call, and in the midst of the speaking up, they got labeled as "bad for business," "against the common good," and "troublemakers," among other things.
And, of course... there were plenty of followers of Jesus in each of those decisive moments who just didn't want to make anybody upset, and who didn't say a word about the gospel and slavery... or the gospel and apartheid... or the gospel and totalitarianism and communism. They just kept their heads down and didn't bother the silversmiths.
So... I wonder about myself, coward and pleaser that I usually am... what will I do, and what will any of us do, when we feel the nudge of the Spirit, even if it means upsetting the idol-peddlers and silver miners? Will you and I find the courage, and the clarity, and the compassion, to risk bothering the silversmiths?
Lord God, let your Spirit give us courage, and clarity, and compassion in all things, to speak and live with grace and truth the Way of Jesus... regardless of what it does to our reputations.
What happens when the Spirit runs up against the bottom line?
You know, I have to give this much to Demetrius the silversmith here in this episode from the book of Acts: he sees clearly that sometimes the Way of Jesus is bad for business. And he knows that sometimes you have to decide which is more important. You have to decide which god really gets your allegiance, because, in the words of Jesus himself, you cannot serve the living God and Mammon.
Now, Demetrius does see that the message of Jesus and the movement of the Spirit that pushed Paul to keep hanging around there in Ephesus and the surrounding area are affecting their profits. He has a clarity that sometimes we Christians lack, or willfully avoid, because he realizes that there are times when you have to choose between making more money and living the Way of Jesus. Sometimes you have to choose between the promptings of the Spirit and the profits in the second quarter. Demetrius sees that, while often we like to imagine that God must always be in favor of making more, acquiring more, and possessing more.
The tragedy of Demetrius, however, is two-fold. Not only does he pick the wrong side in the divine contest of Profits versus the living God, but he also dresses his decision up in piety to his goddess of choice, Artemis, whose figurines and shrines were made of the silver he peddled. Demetrius has found a way to tell himself (and make himself believe) that he's not greedy--he's pious! His god wants him to get rich--his god's honor is at stake if his business suffers! He can tell himself that he is being devout when he drums up the other silver moguls in town and launches a riot against Paul and his anti-business (from their view) message. It's a clash of us-and-our-way-of-life and... them... those no-good, profit-killing, trouble-making, impious followers of Jesus of Nazareth, he told them. It was a contest of civilizations, Demetrius shouted, as he riled them up. And they had to take a stand against these meddlesome Christians, or else, Paul and his ilk would subvert all that they had built up--their religious system, their business (that neatly went hand-in-glove with that same religious system), and the sway they held over their whole culture.
And, of course, Demetrius is not wrong about the choice between Jesus and another god: you do have to pick one. But it's funny, kind of (in the way "funny" can really mean "sad"), to see how the powers of the day saw Christians once upon a time. You know, if you look up in the archaeological and historical record how the Roman Empire and its accompanying culture viewed Christians in the first few centuries, you may be surprised at the charges they brought against us. They called us "atheists," because we would not worship a god made in statue form, like dear old Demetrius and his silver statues of Artemis. They called us political troublemakers because we would not worship the emperor and would not mouth the loyalty oath they demanded of all: "Caesar is Lord." And when Paul eventually lost his life (most likely in Rome during Nero's reign), it is most likely that the charge was treason.
Why? Why would those early Christians have been seen as such a threat? Why, when we were all supposed to be following the teachings of an itinerant rabbi who wanted us to love everybody? Because, as at least Demetrius saw, the Way of Jesus sometimes really does come head to head against the bottom line. We didn't bring weapons and we didn't try to usurp Caesar with a bloody coup. We didn't raise an army or organize a protest with torches outside city hall or even cut off our associations with non-Christians (as the pagan emperor Julian once noted, we Christians--he called us "impious Galileans"--didn't only take care of our own poor, but the poor of the wider society in which we found ourselves!). The early church didn't look like an insurrectionist party. And yet, our message of a God who isn't all tangled up in the local business establishment and who can't be manipulated by producing more religious trinkets, well that message turned out to be a threat to the order of the day. And the shrewd observers like Demetrius saw that--that the Christian message really could subvert all the other neat and tidy systems we build our lives on, and pull the rug out from under them with its news of a God who doesn't need to be appeased by constructing temples or fed by offering up sacrifices.
And yet--even though the local silversmith trade (and probably a host of other related businesses and industries like the mines, goldsmiths, incense sellers, and farmers raising sacrificial animals for Artemis, Zeus, and the rest) all had branded Paul and his message dangerous and bad for business, the Spirit still led Paul to speak, to witness, and to be willing to be unpopular. Notice that--as Luke tells the story, the Spirit of God leads Paul to the conclusion that he needs to stay where he is at the moment, exactly where it will be an unpopular message that the living and real God doesn't need silver shrines. It wouldn't have been so controversial a message, perhaps, if Paul had been in a different city that had a different local industry, or a different local god-of-choice. It would have been easier for Paul to speak out against the silver idols in a town that didn't have booming silver mines and silversmiths. But that's where the message needed to be brought. And make no mistake: it is the Spirit of the living God who tugs at Paul and helps him to see that he needs to stay where his message will be perceived as an attack on "business" and as "subversive" to the dominant culture. And so instead of closing his mouth, or going somewhere else where his message wouldn't have ruffled so many feathers, Paul responds to the push of the Spirit--and he keeps on speaking the news of Jesus, the God who was embodied in a crucified human life rather than a statue made of precious metal.
I wonder... how will we find the courage if the Spirit tugs at us the same way? I wonder, maybe even underneath that--will we dare to let the Spirit help us to see the unpopular realities when there are times that the Way of Jesus butts up against a bigger profit? Will we be willing to say things like, "The Way of Jesus is more important than wealth and gain?" Will we be willing to be criticized for saying things that affect the silversmiths? Not as an attempt to be politically partisan, but, like Paul, because the central gospel claim (of a God not made with human hands) runs up against business-as-usual? Will we let the Spirit of God lead us still to witness to the Way of Jesus, even if people take it as an attack on our comfortably wasteful consumer society? Even if others say like they did to Paul and to the prophet Amos centuries before him, "Why don't you take that message somewhere else where you won't rile people up?"
A hundred and fifty years ago, Christians were at the leading edge of a national (and international, too, in Britain and the British Empire) call to end slavery, because they were convinced it violated the Way of Jesus--but they spoke up, even when countless powerful interests said, "But it's bad for business to abolish slavery--you're anti-farm and anti-business if you want to set them free!" But they did it anyway, convinced that the same Spirit who spoke to Paul was moving them. Thirty years ago, Christians were at the forefront of a movement that helped end apartheid, in large part because they were willing to say that the Way of Jesus and its equal treatment of all people, all races, was more important that making money in partnerships with companies that profited from apartheid in South Africa. Twenty-five years ago, Christians were willing to be seen as subversives in countries behind the Iron Curtain as Communism crumbled and Christians kept worshiping the living God rather than the oversized metal statues of Lenin and Stalin. And, so that we are clear, in all of those instances, followers of Jesus were branded as troublemakers who were threatening the comfortable arrangements of the silversmiths of the day. Those Spirit-led voices spoke up... and they turned the world upside down... eventually. But in the midst of the call, and in the midst of the speaking up, they got labeled as "bad for business," "against the common good," and "troublemakers," among other things.
And, of course... there were plenty of followers of Jesus in each of those decisive moments who just didn't want to make anybody upset, and who didn't say a word about the gospel and slavery... or the gospel and apartheid... or the gospel and totalitarianism and communism. They just kept their heads down and didn't bother the silversmiths.
So... I wonder about myself, coward and pleaser that I usually am... what will I do, and what will any of us do, when we feel the nudge of the Spirit, even if it means upsetting the idol-peddlers and silver miners? Will you and I find the courage, and the clarity, and the compassion, to risk bothering the silversmiths?
Lord God, let your Spirit give us courage, and clarity, and compassion in all things, to speak and live with grace and truth the Way of Jesus... regardless of what it does to our reputations.
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