We’re in the middle of a sermon, here in Acts 7, and, as we know, sermons don’t have a very good press these days. They often have a tendency to tell us what we already know, which we find boring.
One of my favourite cartoons of a sermon is this one: ‘A Particularly Dull Sermon’.
The preacher himself has gone to sleep as he preaches it. It hasn’t yet happened to me, although I’ve got close to it at times, I fear! And it’s usually because I’m telling you something that you already know and that I already know. And we think to ourselves, how can this be of any interest and worth listening to at all?
So, was Stephen just repeating here an Old Testament story with which the Jewish rulers of the day would already be extremely familiar? Or, if he’s not doing that, where was he going in this sermon? That’s often another problem with sermons, where on earth is the preacher off to at the moment? You may even be asking yourself at the moment, Where’s Mark going?
Here’s another of my favourite cartoons:
It shows a group of the congregation crowded around a window, staring out into the distance where you can just see the figure of the vicar walking off down the road. And the caption is: ‘Two-thirds of the way into his sermon, Rev. Boling goes off on another of his infamous tangents.’
Have you known sermons like that?
But actually (as you will know if you’ve been with us in our Acts sermons so far) this sermon was not being preached as it were in a church – i.e. in the Temple or in a synagogue. It was being preached in a law court. Stephen was being tried. He was facing charges before the Sanhedrin: ‘Then the high priest asked him, “Are these charges true?” ’ (Acts 7:1). The charges were charges of blasphemy. The penalty for blasphemy was stoning to death.
Trial scenes are always gripping, aren’t they? They make great dramatic climaxes. I don’t know if you like them in films as much as I do. Perhaps you saw A Few Good Men, which has a great trial scene at its climax, or Rules of Engagement, more recently, or even Legally Blond. But in those the hero or the heroine wins his or her case. Here, he lost. Stephen was preaching for his life, and he lost. In fact, I’m not sure he even tried to win.
“That was the best sermon on giving I’ve ever heard.”
Stephen did not seem to be so much concerned with saving his own life, as with changing the lives of those to whom he was speaking – and that is what all preaching should be about.
Here is one more favourite cartoon:
It shows two little men in their boxer shorts coming out of church, wearing nothing else whatsoever, no shoes on or anything, and one of them is saying to the other. “That was the best sermon on giving I’ve ever heard.”
Now, back in the gospels, Jesus had said, “No-one pours new wine into old wineskins. If he does, the wine will burst the skins, and both the wine and the wineskins will be ruined. No, he pours new wine into new wineskins” (Mark 2:22). Stephen knew that that moment had now come. Christianity could not be contained within Judaism any longer. Jesus Christ had not contradicted the Jewish Faith. But He was its logical conclusion and extension. It led to Him; and He went beyond it. He could not be contained within it, any more than an old wineskin can contain new wine without bursting.
We considered last week two of Stephen’s themes that run right the way through the sermon: Firstly, that God is the God without boundaries – He cannot be limited or contained; so here in this passage, in verses 30 – 34 we note that the most important place of God’s revelation in the Old Testament was not in His promised land, but at Sinai. It was holy ground (v. 33) but it was not the holy land. God is active everywhere in our world and in our lives. We can’t lock Him up in the Western world, or in this church building, or any church building – or confine His interest to the Christian community or to our own religious practices. God is not just active in your and my life when we’re aware of Him and of His activity. He is a God beyond boundaries. Secondly, we saw last week that one of the great themes of the sermon is that God is the God of Patient Purposes. Again here, even in the life of Moses His purposes were worked out over 3 forty-year periods (vv. 23, 30 & 36); spanning 120 years of his life. In the history of the world, they span centuries and millennia. You and I need to learn God’s patience.
Today we’re going to look at two further themes, one of which I initially picked up at the end of last week. They are going to be our substance for today, and I have put them as warnings: 1) Don’t Reject the Person God sends; 2) Don’t Reject the Way God Saves.
1) Don’t Reject the Person God Sends (vv. 39-39)
Although this theme was introduced, as we saw last week, with the rejection of Joseph by his brothers (Acts 7:9), it’s the story of Moses that fills the greater part of the speech – probably because (back in chapter 6, if you remember) it was Moses that Stephen had been charged with speaking blasphemy against (6:11).
Let’s look closely at verses 35-39. Here we find a summary of Moses’ achievements, framed by two rather similar statements: “This is the same Moses whom they had rejected with the words, ‘Who made you ruler and judge?’ ” and “But our fathers refused to obey him. Instead, they rejected him and in their hearts turned back to Egypt” (v. 35a & v. 39). Now let’s look at what lies between those two statements: “This is the same Moses whom they had rejected with the words, ‘Who made you ruler and judge?’ He was sent to be their ruler and deliverer by God himself, through the angel who appeared to him in the bush. He led them out of Egypt and did wonders and miraculous signs in Egypt, at the Red Sea and for forty years in the desert. This is that Moses who told the Israelites, ‘God will send you a prophet like me from your own people. He was in the assembly in the desert, with the angel who spoke to him on Mount Sinai, and with our fathers; and he received living words to pass on to us.” He was God’s mouthpiece and He was God’s agent. And what did he come to do? To liberate God’s people from captivity in Egypt and to lead them to the land which God had promised to give them. And how did the Jews respond? They rejected him: “But our fathers refused to obey him. Instead, they rejected him and in their hearts turned back to Egypt” (v. 39). Moses’ achievements framed by the people’s rejection of him.
But there is one verse tucked away in the middle of verses 35-39 which doesn’t quite fit that pattern, does it? Can you spot it? Do you see which it is – a verse which is not an achievement? Verse 37 isn’t an achievement; it’s just slipped in there: “This is that Moses who told the Israelites, ‘God will send you a prophet like me from your own people.’ This is the one who said that a prophet like him would come: like Moses, in being God’s mouthpiece, and yet beyond Moses in speaking as no other great religious leader has ever spoken on this earth; like Moses in being God’s agent, and yet beyond Moses in doing God’s work on this earth as no other religious leader has ever done; like Moses in being rejected by men, and yet beyond Moses in that in His case they were not content until they’d crucified Him. So Stephen points his listeners beyond Moses to Jesus, with an implicit plea not to reject Him as they had rejected Moses.
When in 1967 Dr Christian Barnard performed the first human heart transplant in South Africa, the world waited to hear just one thing: whether the transplanted organ had been rejected or not. Those who can remember that will know that it was constantly in the news, and you waited almost day by day to hear whether the body of the latest recipient had accepted or rejected the organ he had been given. Now when Jesus Christ came to this earth to be the Saviour of the human race, heaven knew that there could be rejection. God poured out His love for you and for me in sending His Son to die for our sins; and He has granted us the freedom and dignity to reject Him. Just as the human body may reject the organ that will save its life – there was no contingency plan, no second chance for Dr. Barnard’s patients if rejection occurred. And they, poor people, could not help themselves. We can. And yet we still spurn the Son of God – in all His love and mercy and goodness and grace. Has there ever been a more attractive person than Jesus Christ? I’ve never found one. I don’t believe a more attractive person has ever walked this earth. How could the human race turn their back on Him? And yet we do, don’t we? We let second-rate things take His place in our lives. Some here today will pay very little attention to Jesus once you walk out of the door of this church – until you find yourself in a similar gathering again, and you get troubled by a few more thoughts about whether this man may be a little more important than you presently think.
How could we spurn such an offer from the God who made us? Our second point may cast some light on that.
2) Don’t Reject the Way God Saves (vv. 39-43)
“But our fathers refused to obey him. Instead, they rejected him and in their hearts turned back to Egypt. They told Aaron, ‘Make us gods who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who led us out of Egypt – we don’t know what has happened to him!’ That was the time they made an idol in the form of a calf. They brought sacrifices to it and held a celebration in honour of what their hands had made. But God turned away and gave them over to the worship of the heavenly bodies. This agrees with what is written in the book of the prophets: ‘Did you bring me sacrifices and offerings for forty years in the desert O house of Israel? You have lifted up the shrine of Molech and the star of your god Rephan, the idols you made to worship. Therefore I will send you into exile beyond Babylon’ ” (vv. 39-43). Stephen is suggesting that there was a pattern here: God acted to save His people, but His people tried to substitute something else for trusting God to save them. “But our fathers refused to obey him. Instead, they rejected him and in their hearts turned back to Egypt. They told Aaron, ‘Make us gods who will go before us. As for this fellow Moses who led us out of Egypt – we don’t know what has happened to him!’ That was the time they made an idol in the form of a calf. They brought sacrifices to it and held a celebration in honour of what their hands had made” (vv. 39-41). That, I suggest is a significant little clause: ‘what their hands had made’ – what we can do ourselves, as it were with our own hands – our own religious observances are so much more comfortable for us, because we remain in control. Humanity is still in the centre of the stage. I am still in control of my own life. And when we encounter the work of God, when the grace of God breaks in, it is too threatening to our autonomy and independence, so we quickly put human religion in its place: “That was the time they made an idol in the form of a calf.”
That word ‘idol’ comes from a Greek word meaning ‘form’ or ‘shape’ or ‘appearance’. Idolatry is about what can be seen, what is tangible – as opposed to the invisible world of true spiritual reality, which can only be apprehended by faith. Why do we so prefer sight? I take it that is true of all of us, believers and unbelievers. We all find things that we can hold and touch, that are under our control – the religion that is generated by ourselves – we find it so much more comfortable, so much more what we want than the intrusive Spirit of God breaking into our lives and doing things to us that are out of our control.
Many years ago I was involved in organising some large training conferences for youth leaders in a remote conference centre in North Wales. One of my colleagues insisted on having a large, expensive banner made – bearing the name of the organisation C Y F A. He explained that it was for display on the roadside at the entrance to the conference centre, so that as several hundred car-loads of youth leaders arrived from all over the country they would know that they had reached the right destination. We humoured him, but thought it was pretty unnecessary and very expensive. In the event, delegate after delegate at that conference said what an enormous encouragement it had been to them at the end of a long, weary car journey on a Friday night, to see C Y F A displayed in huge, fluorescent letters beside the road as they drove their way towards Anglesey in North Wales. At that moment sight replaced faith for them. No longer were they trusting a road map and instructions and written information that there was going to be a training conference for youth leaders up there, but they had seen it with their own eyes. And they kept saying to us as they arrived, “Thank you so much for putting that banner up, it was a real moment of encouragement and relief.” We human beings so love that, don’t we? It’s not a bad analogy of our own journey towards heaven, we are not granted sight yet. The day will come when we will be. And that will be an enormous relief to you and to me. But it’s not yet.
That was the problem with the tabernacle and the Temple. Look at verses 44 to 47: “Our forefathers had the tabernacle of the Testimony [that was the Ark of the Covenant, a little box inside a little tent, a sort of mobile sanctuary that they moved around the wilderness and kept setting up wherever they were] with them in the desert. It had been made as God directed Moses, according to the pattern he had seen. Having received the tabernacle, our fathers under Joshua brought it with them when they took the land from the nations God drove out before them. It remained in the land until the time of David, who enjoyed God’s favour and asked that he might provide a dwelling-place for the God of Jacob. But it was Solomon who built the house for him [which was the Temple in Jerusalem].” God had directed that both those things should be made, the tabernacle and the Temple, He’d graciously provided visible, tangible reminders of His presence among His people. But His people quickly substituted the visible symbol for the spiritual reality. They so much preferred sight to faith. Stephen goes on: “However, the Most High does not live in houses made by men. As the prophet says: ‘Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me? says the Lord. Or where will my resting place be? Has not my hand made all these things?’ ” (vv. 48-50). There can be no House of God on this earth, but sadly, just as Stephen’s hearers found that so hard to grasp, lots of good church people today still have not realised it – 2,000 years later.
It is our problem with Holy Communion as well, isn’t it? The wine and the bread that we use for Communion, are visible and tangible. And we so quickly imbue them with all sorts of magical and mystical properties and significance. Because, if they can be seen and touched, they are to some extent under our control. I don’t know if you have ever come across the expression “making my Communion”. No human being makes anything when we come and share in the bread and wine! They are just reminders of something that God has done; they are signals to Him of His grace. They are not things that we can use to be holy, or that make us holy. Not one of us will be one jot better for merely eating some bread and drinking some wine together today. It does not lie in those material, physical things. You see, receiving this Communion is an act of faith. It is a reminder to us of the death of Christ – that something had been done for us. And when we share the bread and wine together we are thanking God for that, and proclaiming it: that that is how a human being’s sins are forgiven.
It only makes sense as an aid to trusting in the death of Christ. But, like the tabernacle and the Temple, this bread and wine has often been treated as a focus for idolatry, I fear. I think that is probably the true word for it. It has been corrupted into a religious ritual: something that can actually keep us from opening our whole lives to God. That’s why here, at St. Andrew the Great, we do our utmost to de-mystify the sharing of bread and wine together. We say the words together, as we’re going to in a moment, in the prayer of thanksgiving. We don’t insist on an ordained person doing it. We often have un-ordained people doing it here – lest we do what these Jews were doing as Stephen preached to them all those years ago. We deliberately keep it ordinary, because we want to focus on the meaning and not on the form.
We must move to that Communion now, but just notice how verse 49 ends – that last little question there: ‘Or where will my resting place be?’ God is not a resting God. One preacher I listened to on this chapter suggested that the text for Stephen’s sermon is actually what God said to Abraham in verse 3, right at the start of the sermon: ‘Leave your country and your people,’ God said, ‘and go to the land I will show you.’ That was what God said to Abraham. That was what Stephen was saying to the Sanhedrin as he preached this sermon to them. Leave your religious ideas, leave your religious practices, and go out in faith trusting Jesus to take you to heaven. Because there is no other way there. And I want to suggest that it is what this chapter is saying to you and me today: leave your comfortable, convenient, visible religious practices behind and trust Jesus to save you from your sins. Don’t reject the Person God has sent and the way God has saved. Don’t settle down spiritually. He is not a resting God. He says, “Leave your country and your people and go to the land I will show you.”
That is why we as a church must never settle down. We must be disturbed and challenged regularly. We must throw ourselves daily on the mercy of God at the Cross – as we do now, in this Communion.