2022 05 01 mSermon

Sermon for May 1, 2022 Easter 3 C House of Prayer Lutheran Church

Acts 9:1-20 Rev. Karl-John N. Stone

My first year of college, I took the required English class. Our professor gave us a semester-long writing assignment, which he called the “Place Project”. We needed to pick a place on campus, and then return to that place for 30 minutes every week, and at the end of the semester give a presentation about what we observed. I picked a wooded area near my dorm. I found a downed tree to sit on, as I observed the forest. What did I notice? Well, I came to perceive that observing a forest was far too large of a task, so over time I narrowed my observation to one tree. Then again over time, I realized that by observing one tree, I was actually observing the whole forest (in a sense) because the things that happened to that one tree (as winter turned to spring) were the same things that were happening to the whole forest. I also noticed that even though my focus was on one tree, that one tree was not alone—it only existed in that place because of all the other trees around it. And when I stared up into the canopy of that one tree, it was very difficult to tell which branches belonged to my one tree, and which branches belonged to other trees nearby.

The whole semester I was observing just one place. The place itself remained the same place, but my perceptions of it changed, as the place revealed more and more of itself through the changing seasons. You might even say that my perceptions were converted. Because at the beginning of the Place Project, even though I could see the whole forest, I was blind (in a way) to some of the deep truths about that forest. Only in acknowledging and embracing my blindness could I really begin to see what was truly around me.

Have you ever had something like that? Where a change in your perception opened up a whole new world to you? That kind of experience is an analogy to the story we heard this morning from the book of Acts, about the conversion of St. Paul. It’s one of the most famous stories in the Bible. He was known as Saul in Hebrew-speaking areas, and as Paul in Greek-speaking areas, but whichever name he went by he was well known in the years right after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection as the greatest, most enthusiastic persecutor of Christians. He started these persecutions in Jerusalem, and then he got permission to go to Damascus (a city closer to his hometown of Tarsus) to continue to seek and arrest Christians, and persecute them.

It was on the road to Damascus that Paul’s perceptions changed. As he approached the city he was caught by surprise. Quite suddenly he had no idea what was happening to him. A light from heaven flashed. He fell to the ground. He heard a voice: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” He doesn’t know who is speaking. He asks, “Who are you?” The reply, “I am Jesus whom you are persecuting.” The men traveling with him also heard the voice but saw no one. Then Paul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing. For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank.

It was in blindness that he gained the ability to truly see. It was in fasting that God fed him with a Word of new life. As we read more about Saul in the book of Acts, and as we read the letters he wrote that would become part of the New Testament, we see that he was in many ways the same old Saul. Passionate, zealous, bold, enthusiastic, confident, faithful, intelligent, with a deep knowledge of the Bible and the Judaism. But after the surprising appearance of the risen Christ in a flash of light, all of those characteristics that made Saul the person he was were re-directed. Instead of directing his energies toward hatred, fear, and persecution, be now applied his energies towards hopefulness, love, and encouragement. As God gave him a new calling for his old characteristics, Saul’s perceptions were converted.

In the manner of Old Testament prophets like Elijah or Isaiah, God chose Saul—with all of his strengths and weaknesses, with all the great sins of his past, and all the great potential for goodness in the future—God chose Saul to bring the name of the Lord “before Gentiles and kings and the people of Israel.” In this new calling, this new perception of how to relate to people and of how to truly serve God, Saul also discovered that he was not alone. Like a tree in the forest that exists because of all the other trees surrounding it, so it was with Saul.

First he was surrounded by companions on the road to Damascus, who led him by the hand when he was blinded. Then it was a disciple named Ananias who lived in Damascus, whom God called to go and find Saul (even though Ananias was reluctant and afraid—he knew the reputation of this guy) and pray for him; to lay his hands upon him as a sign of the Holy Spirit; to baptize him, feed him, and teach him the way of discipleship. Later it would be co-workers of Paul—women such as Priscilla, Phoebe, and Junia; men such as Timothy, Titus, and Silas. These people were all church leaders, preachers, teachers, and apostles in their own right. Paul couldn’t have been the great apostle and missionary, who shared how God’s amazing grace is available to everyone through the risen Jesus, if he had been on his own.

The same is true for each of us. You are not alone. We have each other. And together, as we gather around the Word of God, around the water of Baptism, around the bread and wine of Communion, around the spirit of faith, hope, love, and encouragement that we share—the risen Christ is available and recognizable to us. The same risen Christ who appeared in a flash of light to Saul on the road to Damascus.

Jesus calls each of us to put our faith in him so that he might change our perceptions, too. So that in our own moments of shock or loss, like St. Paul, we can turn those experiences into moments of surrender to Jesus and his amazing grace. Through Christ, your moment of surrender can become the moment when new life, and new strength, and renewed sight begins.

As C. S. Lewis, the great writer of the Chronicles of Narnia, put it: "I believe in Christianity as I believe the sun has risen, not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else." It’s about perception.

Of course, it’s hard to surrender ourselves to Christ because it means accepting your own vulnerability. Usually, if we think we have some chance of doing things all on our own, we like to choose that way. Human nature finds it hard to surrender to Christ—but paradoxically, the harder way is actually the easier way because it is the power of God at work within us; it is the gift of realizing that you already belong in the heart of God. You have already begun living into salvation. Therefore, like St. Paul, you can take the energies, the characteristics, that God has given you and that make you who you are—and by grace, with God converting your perceptions, and calling you to follow Jesus—you can direct who you are towards building others up in the way of Christ, with faith, hope, love, and encouragement. Amen.