The Manifest Dangers of Money - Reflections on Acts 16:9-15
It is a well-known fact that Luke’s Gospel and his 2nd volume Book of the Acts are, rather more than the other Gospels, quite concerned with the perils of wealth and its possible misuse.
It is a well-known fact that Luke’s Gospel and his 2nd volume Book of the Acts are, rather more than the other Gospels, quite concerned with the perils of wealth and its possible misuse.
Today’s text thrusts us directly into the enormously consequential narrative of Peter’s confrontation with the Holy Spirit that forces him to rethink everything he has learned and practiced as a first-century Jew.
This Lenten season, the call for justice is sounded loud and clear as we are reminded that Lent is both a time for self-examination and a time for allowing that examination to lead to engagement with our human siblings in a search for righteousness and justice.
This Lent I wished to focus on issues of justice and righteousness in the community, rather than in individual spirituality or getting closer to God on our own. What this odd chapter adds to that emphasis is the significance of a God who simply cannot be penned in or defined in ways that allow that God to be approached by traditional means of religious activity.
In Isaiah we find a brilliant representation of that most basic and uncanny statement of God’s hallowed promise to us all: there is, in the end, no death, no exile, no pain, no hopelessness, in which God may not find life in it.
It is more than obvious why this passage from 1 Samuel is regularly chosen by the collectors of the lectionary to suggest the analogy between the service and growth of the child Samuel in the temple, and the apparently similar early life of the child Jesus.
In the midst of this unrestrained litany of salaciousness, Zephaniah speaks hope. The prophet enacts in his final words the very essence of the gospel of God, the announcement of hope when none appears at all likely or possible.
We hope for and long for the coming of the Christ child who comes to us in “mercy and righteousness,” long promised in the Hebrew Bible and echoed in Baruch.
The Sunday before the first Sunday in Advent has long been designated “Christ the King” Sunday. The Sunday is seen as a prefiguring, a premonition, of the coming of the Christ child into the world.
In all four gospels, Jesus is portrayed as persistently resisting the efforts of others to define him, to tell him who he has to be, to force him into existing categories.
When we're going through hell, how can we keep on going?
The answer? By remembering two pieces of very good news concealed in the pile of pains, pangs, and persecutions of this text:
It should be noted that all of the great Bible narratives, from the tales of Genesis to the potent story of the Exodus to the story of Jesus begin with small tales of family. We ought never discount the power of the small family story to offer the origins of the larger narratives that occupy so much of our attention in the course of our sacred history; they are always worth a further look.
© SMU Perkins Center for Preaching Excellence