Uncontainable--April 23, 2024
"When they had made the prisoners stand in their midst, they inquired, 'By what power or by what name did you do this?' Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, 'Rulers of the people and elders, if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and are asked how this man has been healed, let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead'." [Acts 4:7-10]
If I declare my house and yard to be a separate sovereign nation (and therefore that I do not have to obey speed limits or pay my taxes), and I declare my independence in the name of George Washington, guess what happens? Nothing. No offense to our first Commander-in-Chief, but he is dead, and therefore powerless to make my statement have any effect.
If I shout to the skies that I refuse to be bound to the laws of gravity and I renounce its hold on me in the names of Sir Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein, do you know what will happen when I jump up into the air, hoping to "slip the surly bonds of earth," as the old poem goes? The same as always--I'll be pulled right back down to the ground as usual, because gravity does not recognize the authority of Newton, Einstein, or any other human being. Gravity's gonna do what gravity's gonna do.
And yet, when Peter invokes the name of Jesus of Nazareth to heal a man whose limbs were paralyzed, the man can "jump up" (Acts 3:8) and he walks away praising God. The difference, according to Peter himself in this passage that many of us hear this past Sunday, is not that Peter is such a powerful guy, but that Jesus is risen from the dead. His name has power because he is alive, and the power of his resurrection brings other people more fully to life. In other words, the risen life of Jesus is uncontainable--it overflows and spills beyond Jesus' own person and brings others more fully alive. Jesus' life won't stay put even just within his own body: it courses through the community of his followers, who are gifted to heal, mend, and restore the lives of others in his name.
The takeaway of all this for us is huge. The post-Easter community of Jesus' followers didn't merely tell stories about what Jesus had done in the past--they continued to do the kinds of things they had seen and heard Jesus doing, in all their time following him. The early church didn't see itself as a historical society, merely re-enacting or preserving artifacts from a past moment. They saw themselves as the community in which Jesus' risen life continued, not only somewhere else "up in heaven" but among them, in them, and through them. So it makes perfect sense now that the same Peter who had been a total coward back in the garden on the night of Jesus' betrayal is now confident and bold as he heals the stranger and then gets into "good trouble" by getting arrested for the healing. The difference is that the risen Jesus--and the stirrings of the Spirit--now directs Peter to do the kinds of things Jesus did all along.
It's what makes sense of the whole story of Acts: you get disciples of Jesus doing the kinds of things they learned from Jesus. They go out and welcome outcasts. They send evil spirits running. They speak truth to power and risk getting arrested, attacked, or killed for it. They heal the sick. They bring hope to the brokenhearted. They share their abundance so that the hungry get fed and the poor have their needs taken care of. They bring the life of Jesus to other people, in ever wider and wider circles. And their attempts succeed because the One on whom they call--Jesus of Nazareth--is not growing moldy in a grave somewhere, but is risen from the dead as evidence of his authority over life and his defeat of death itself. Peter can heal the man, not because he has mastered some new technique or learned some effective incantation like a magic spell, but because the One whom Peter invokes is actually living and able to work this wonder.
I am convinced that this is the critical lesson we have so often forgotten as church: our job is not to master the latest "technique" and thereby fix the world... or save souls... or bring the kingdom. Our calling is to remain connected to the life of Jesus, and to trust that Jesus' kind of life will, like gravity, do what it's gonna do, through us, among us, and in us. Our job isn't to perfect the right technique for connecting with people on social media, looking hip and trendy in our promotional literature, being seen supporting all the right causes, or getting dragged into some culture-war nonsense because the talking heads on our favorite news channel got us riled up for it. Our work, which is the most joyful kind of "work" there is, is to let Jesus' life fill our own, so that his kind of life-giving presence flows through us to the people around us who need it. Sometimes that will prompt others to awe-filled wonder and praise of God. Sometimes it will get us in trouble, or even jail like Peter. But either way, it's about letting Jesus' life inform our own, so that Jesus' actions start moving through our hands and feet, much the same way you might catch your mother or father's words coming out of your mouth as an adult without your realizing it.
That's the calling, friends. That's the adventure. Let's see where it takes us today.
Lord Jesus, be alive through us and in us, as well as beyond us.
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