Blinded by the LIght

Blinded by the LIght

Acts 9:1-9

Depending on whether you grew up Catholic or Protestant, you’ve either heard a lot about Peter or a lot about Paul. In Catholic tradition, the notion that St. Peter was the “cornerstone” of the church is taken so seriously that the Popes trace themselves back to Peter himself.  That’s known as “apostolic succession.”  In Protestant churches, the fire for the Reformation, the great break from the one catholic church at the time, were the writings of St. Paul.  “Justification by faith through grace” was the battle cry for Luther and many others.  That inspiration came directly from Paul’s letters to the early churches.

 It’s important to me that we not only acknowledge the contributions of these two leaders but that we also acknowledge their humanity.   It is possible to make these two men so saintly that they are out of our reach, that they don’t have much to teach us because they are just in some other “league.”  What good would it do to have Michael Jordan teach me how to play basketball when I can’t jump, right?  That’s the thing, Peter and Paul are 100 percent human, just like us, warts and all.  Understand, I raise this not to dispatch with Peter and Paul but to embrace them.  If they’re fully human and God can work through them then maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for us.  Maybe in meeting them, there’s something for us to learn.

One of the great gifts of the pandemic was that my parents got to come to church almost every week, via the livestream.  Admittedly, this made for a few uncomfortable Sunday night phone calls.  Mom, especially, didn’t have any problem suggesting a few improvements.  One night in particular, she led the conversation with  the tell-tale, “Hmmm…” (Never a good sign!). Then, she told me that she was tired of hearing about Peter.  “Every week, Peter, Peter, Peter…” I was listening and chuckling to myself.  Then, she said, “What are you preaching on next week?”  I couldn’t resist:  “Peter!” I think even Mom might have laughed.  

So, Mom…let me say a word about Peter…and Paul.  I think in the earliest days of the church, there was an emphasis on the miraculous things that were done in God’s name.  In particular, there were a lot of miracles attributed to the disciples and a handful of others.  People wanted to see the truth of the faith demonstrated in extraordinary ways.  Certainly, there have been people ever since—some really good, faithful people—who have been drawn to the miraculous and the extraordinary.  This need is reflected when we read the Book of Acts.

For whatever reason, I have always found myself drawn to the more scaled down but in their own rights equally miraculous stories of changed lives—of broken people who, though they remained broken people, somehow were also exactly the person whom God needed in a particular moment, people whom God worked through.  Take Peter, whose story is pretty well known…

Peter was a tough fisherman who believed in his own competence and strength.  He learned how to throw a net, how to clean that net and how to weather a storm.  He fed a whole village and did it day in and day out.  He was respected.  People depended on him.  Then, one day, he was called by some guy who showed up on the shore:  “Follow me!  I will teach you how to fish for people.”

Here’s the problem:  Peter was one of those guys who really didn’t need anyone to teach him anything.  I you wanted to learn how to catch fish, he was the teacher.  If you wanted to learn what strength looks like, watch him.  Peter was proud and decisive and competent.  Those were the skills that made him potentially such a powerful leader.  Those were the skills that made the other disciples pretty much step in line behind him from the start.  Those were also the “skills” which would stand as barriers to him ever becoming a person of faith.  He couldn’t be who he had always been and be a follower of Christ.  Peter struggles mightily with these barriers:  walking on water and then sinking; refusing to let Christ wash his feet and then asking to be bathed all over; declaring his willingness to die in Jesus’ defense and then denying ever having known Jesus at all, just a few hours later.  Even after Jesus has forgiven Peter and suggests that Peter might want to become more forgiving, Peter turns around and basically shames an elderly couple to death.

Consider Paul…or Saul as we meet him in our text today.  Saul was no fisherman.  I suspect he might have “reeled” at the smell of Peter’s boat.  No, Saul was a learned young man.  He was the guy who knew all the answers in class, who debated all the teachers and religious authorities, who thrilled everyone who listened to him with his oratorical skills.  Saul was brilliant.  If Peter believed in his own strength and competence, then Saul believed in his own mind.  There was a “right” and a “wrong” and Saul believed the he could see the difference clear as day and make that call correctly every time.  Saul was a true believer and what he truly believed in most was himself.

Saul hadn’t always stood in the spotlight.  No, recently we saw Saul on the margins.  Stephen was probably every bit as smart as Saul but maybe not as savvy.  Stephen used his mind and his skills to speak from his heart of Jesus in the court after being arrested.  He took his one shot at the corruption of the tradition, starting with the people driving Moses crazy and working his way all the way to the cross.  Stephen’s words were undeniably brilliant.  Yet, they were also dangerous and heretical and a threat to everything and everyone.  Therefore, Stephen would have to die.  This wasn’t Saul’s decision.  However, Saul totally agreed, to the point where he held the coats and the hats and the cellphones and car keys of everyone who was willing to do the job.  He just stood there, nodding his head and smugly agreeing with the utter necessity of the terrible death of that brilliant young man.

Roll the clock forward a bit and what has become of Saul?  Having had a taste of how to deal with the problem of these followers of Jesus once and for all, Saul does what he always did best:  he sinks his teeth into hunting down Christians and his jaws are as tight as a pit bull’s.  His reputation builds fast.  Chances are that just about everyone who was a part of the earliest group of followers had either been arrested by him or had a family member or friend arrested by him or perhaps even had one of those people die after their arrest.  If you were an early Christian, Saul was Darth Vader and Voldemort all mixed into one.

The thing about Saul was that he never second guessed himself.  At the end of the day, he wasn’t worrying about a thing.  He just laid his head down and slept the sleep of the righteous because that is what he believed he was—100 percent righteous!  He was right and these followers of Jesus of Nazareth were just plain wrong.  Things were black and white.  There was a right and wrong.  He knew exactly where he stood.

Now, I want to pause and point out that the things that Peter struggled with and that Saul/Paul struggled with are reflected in powerful ways in our traditions.  For example, if Peter struggled in particular with forgiveness and shame, isn’t it interesting that the tradition which draws the most on Peter has left people from that tradition struggling with forgiveness and shame, themselves?  Or, consider the Protestants who so wanted to follow Saul’s teachings about justification by faith—that God alone determined who God loved, not us—and then turned around and were so convinced that they were right about their understanding of communion that they executed people who disagreed.  The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree—in families and in faith traditions.

Why does this matter? First, it is an invitation to us to discern what our struggles are—the ones that seem stuck to us like they were attached with industrial strength velcro.  Having been forgiven (haven’t we all?) how freely do I forgive?  If I’ve been drawn to the notion of a God who loves unconditionally, have I learned to love unconditionally myself?  When push comes to shove, do I believe in my own competence?  Do I believe I’m the smartest person in the room?  Do I believe there’s a right and a wrong and…surprise…I’m right again?  Knowing what our weaknesses are may not eliminate those weaknesses but it may shed light on what needs work. It might just lead to a healthy dose of humility.

Second, Paul/Saul and Peter and a host of other wonderful and broken people teach us a pretty essential truth.  We can express that truth in different ways.  You could say, “If you’re full of yourself then there is no way to be full of the presence of God.”  You might say, “As long as you think you can do what really needs to be done all on your own, you’re not ready to do it, not if what you’re doing really matters.” Or, we could just be super blunt:  “God doesn’t work through heroes.  God makes heroes out of humble people.”  It’s not until we know we don’t have a chance without God’s help that we are actually able to be helped by God.

So, ladies and gentlemen, join Saul and his friends and me as we walk down the road to Damascus.  Presumably, Saul has hunted down so many Christians in Jerusalem that he’s ready to move on.  He has secured special warrants to arrest anyone whom he finds in Damascus who gives off even a whiff of being a follower of Christ.  He is officially “the man.”  In fact, I imagine that the members of the court, who issued the warrants, mumbled to one another as he left the court, “What a fine young man!  Truly, one of a kind!”

Saul—The Man!—is followed by his men—his disciples?—down the dusty road to Damascus.  As they walk, something incredible happens.  Saul—the man whom no one could touch—is “canned”—knocked straight on his rear end.  In fact, with the flash of an incredibly bright light, Saul—the man who could see right and wrong with 20/20 vision is left completely blind.  He can’t see a thing now.  He can hear, though.  (Interestingly, his men can hear the voice that speaks, too.). The voice says to Saul, “Saul, Saul, why are you out to get me?” (So…hot tip here…if you are ever knocked down and blinded and the next thing you hear is your name, pay attention!) Saul, recognizing a higher power, if not the power of God, reacts instinctively with schmoozing words:  “Who are you, Master?” The answer?  “I am Jesus…the one you’ve been hunting down.”

I’m pretty sure Saul never expected to be knocked down, much less to call anyone, “Master.”  I’m sure that the last thing his minions ever thought they would be doing would be leading Saul by the hand, step-by-step to Damascus.  I know that the last thing anyone would have believed was that eventually Saul would turn into Paul, the leader of the new church.

Sometimes, in order to be set right, we have to learn we were totally wrong.  Sometimes, in order to see things in a new way, we have to be blind for a while first.  Sometimes, we have to reach the limits of what we can do to make room for what God can do through us.