What Gives You Peace?
The last time that I preached on this text, several years ago, we examined the paradox that is illustrated so many times within it… namely that those who appear to be free are themselves captives and that those who appear to be captive have attained freedom. Thanks to Paul's annoyance at what the slave girl was doing and the power of the name of Jesus, the slave girl who was caught in the grip of demon possession gains her freedom from that demon. And yet, she is still not free, for she is a slave… someone who is not a person but a piece of property. Her owners are free and yet they are not happy about her new freedom, for her freedom from the demon that possessed her meant that they lost a guaranteed source of income. So, they responded to their slave girl's freedom by engineering a lock-up for the apostles. Yet, when Paul, Silas and the others have been beaten… bloodied… locked in the innermost cell of the jail and also shackled, they choose to demonstrate that cages and bars cannot control the mind and soul… and they do it by singing. Their jailer, who was technically free, was so devastated by the earthquake and the prospect of his prisoners escaping that he considered taking his own life, which was not the action of a man who was truly free. He demonstrated that having the key to someone else's cell does not necessarily make you free. The jailer’s true freedom came when he was baptized and became a Christian. In fact, as Will Willimon states it, "by the end of the story, everyone who at first appeared to be free – the girl's owners, the judges, the jailer – is a slave. And everyone who first appeared to be enslaved – the poor girl, Paul, and Silas – is free.
In any story like this one, where there is some miracle or unexplained phenomenon that changes the course of the narrative, there always seems to be someone who wants to be able to apply current scientific knowledge for the purpose of eliminating the supernatural. In this story, we have the earthquake that set Paul and Silas free, which has been brushed off by some as a mere coincidence. In the same way, the darkness that fell on the day Christ was crucified has been explained as an eclipse of the sun. Some seminary professors take great care to explain to students that Moses used a narrow part of the "Reed" Sea… not the Red Sea… when the Israelites were released from the tyranny of the Egyptians… and they explain that the phenomenon of the parting waters was caused by the fierce winds which sometimes swept the area. Others have said that the "burning bush" that Moses encountered was a natural phenomenon caused by St. Elmo's fire… atmospheric electricity. Some years ago now, a professor at Duke Divinity School was discussing the story of Jonah in class and the professor seemed to scoff at the notion that Jonah was actually swallowed by a fish. He walked around the room, randomly asking his students if they believed that Jonah was actually swallowed by a whale. A few students boldly spoke up as proponents of the story in the literal sense, but most of these future ministers, intimidated by the professor, simply murmured, "I don't know," or "I suppose it is just a morality tale." One student, however, when confronted by the professor, stood up and spoke calmly, but with great conviction in his voice. "I don't really care whether the story of Jonah is true or not. However, if I didn't believe that God has the power to do such things, I wouldn't be studying for the ministry, and if you don't believe that God has the power to do such things, then you should not be representing him as a teacher!"
There is a profound truth in that student’s statement: It truly does not matter whether any of us believe that a star led the wise men to Bethlehem… or that the walls of Jericho fell from the sound of trumpets blown by a small group of men led by Gideon… or that five thousand people were fed by a boy who had five loaves and two fish. But, if we do not believe that God is capable of doing such things, then why are we here today?
Maya Angelou wrote an autobiographical book that won wide acclaim entitled, “I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings.” It is the story of her own youth in a hostile society… her own coming of age in a world that did not accept who she was. She took the title of her book from the third stanza of a poem by Paul Dunbar, a renowned African American poet. That stanza reads as follows:
I
know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,
When he beats his bars and would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings –
I know why the caged bird sings.
If, in the flowing prose of Maya Angelou and the poetry of Paul Dunbar, the song of a caged bird is not a song a joy, but a petition to heaven, might we also speculate that the songs sung by Paul and Silas in prison that night were also prayers… their own petitions to heaven from the cages in which they were shackled? If so, they would not be the first to use hymns as prayers, for many hymns are written to be communication between humans and God. Hymns like “Abide with Me” or “Rock of Ages” are clearly petitions for God’s presence. Others like “Guide Me, O Thou Great Jehovah” or “Jesu, Jesu, Fill Us with Your Love” or “Open My Eyes That I May See” are prayers for assistance and transformation. “How Great Thou Art” and “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee” are prayers of thanksgiving and praise. And yet, there is no need to pray to a God in whom we have no faith. If there truly is a scientific way to explain away all the miracles in the Bible, then one could argue that we are better off looking for a scientific solution to our problems than taking those concerns to God in prayer. Why, then, do we pray? Is it only because we reach a point where we cannot find a scientific solution… where our backs are against the wall and God becomes our last resort? And, if we then pray to God… when we have had no other relationship with God… when we don’t know how to speak to God… and we have little faith that God will act… why should we hold on to any hope that God will respond… that our prayers will be answered? Why would God respond to these hastily cobbled… theologically weak… ambivalent requests that we make?
A man named Joseph Hall was born in 1574 in Leicestershire, England. He graduated from Cambridge in 1589, and he was elected to the university lectureship in rhetoric. He became pastor assigned to the parish of Suffolk in 1601 and, in 1627, he was became the Bishop of Exeter and presided over that diocese for thirteen years. A cleric much respected by his contemporaries, Bishop Hall wrote the following thoughts on the subject of prayer: "It is not the arithmetic of our prayers, how many they are; nor the rhetoric of our prayers, how eloquent they be; nor the geometry of our prayers, how long they be; nor the music of our prayers, how sweet our voice may be; nor the method of our prayers, how orderly they may be; nor even the theology of our prayers, how good the doctrine may be - which God cares for. Fervency of spirit is that which availeth much."
I have always thought that it is a wonderful relief to us that God does not care how well we pray… only how earnestly… how fervently… we pray. On the other hand, God does care whether we have faith in him… whether we trust that he will answer our prayers. In the gospel of Mark, we read that Jesus told his disciples, "Have faith in God. Truly I tell you, if you say to this mountain, 'Be taken up and thrown into the sea,' and if you do not doubt in your heart, but believe that what you say will come to pass, it will be done for you.” How often, I wonder, is the power of prayer negated by our own lack of faith… our inability to trust God? I have often said that one of my own weaknesses is that, while I will allow God to drive the bus, from time to time, I have this annoying habit of grabbing the steering wheel.
In 1991, the U.S. Department of Transportation set aside $200 million for research and testing of an Automated Highway System. The goal of this system was to place a fully automated roadway or automated test track in operation by 1997. Work began in San Diego, California, along a 7.6-mile stretch of Interstate 15. Special magnets were embedded in the asphalt every four feet that would transfer signals between vehicles and a main computer system. Sensors, computers navigation systems, and cameras along the side of the road would control the vehicles' steering, acceleration, and braking. Control would be returned to drivers at their specified exit. In August 1997, tests on this roadway began. Cars were tested with drivers of all ages and at speeds from 70 to 95 miles per hour. At times, only 40 feet separated cars. The end results of this experiment were mixed. Mike Doble, Buick's technology manager in charge of the project, commented: "The only thing we can't do yet is get people to comfortably trust the system. It's not a technology issue. Would you drive, closely spaced, at high speeds, through San Diego?" Kenneth Davis of Buick explained it in this way: "You want to grab the wheel. You can't help yourself. You just want to get your hands back on that wheel." It seems that it is human nature to desire control over one’s own environment. Perhaps that is the only reason why we still do not have an automated roadway more than a dozen years after we proved that we have the technology to do it.
Is that the same reason why our faith in God is still weak… despite centuries of human experience with God’s faithfulness… and books filled with stories of the many ways that God has answered prayer? Do we still doubt God’s ability to handle any problem we might face in our lives? And can we trust that God will deliver us, despite all appearances to the contrary? And what if God’s solution was different that the solution we desire? Do we then try to take matters into our own hands? In the case of Paul and Silas, the earthquake seemed to lead to open the doors of freedom for both… but they did not take advantage of the situation and run away. Instead, after baptizing the jailer and his family, they returned to prison, only to be released the next day. Two contemporary men lived out their faith while still confined to prison. Let me close with those two stories.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer was born in 1906 in Breslau, Germany. He received his doctorate in theology from the University of Berlin in 1927 and spent a year at Union Theological Seminary in New York in 1931. After Hitler came to power and gained control of the German Christian Church, Bonhoeffer established an underground seminary in Zingst, continuing to advocate the authority of Jesus Christ in the lives of true Christians over the authority of the Third Reich. In April 1943, he was arrested for his involvement in "Operation 7", a rescue mission that helped Jews escape into Switzerland. For two years, Bonhoeffer continued to share his faith from his prison cell, praying with fellow prisoners and writing to his students from prison. In an excerpt from one of his letters from prison, he wrote: “No earthly power can touch us without his will, and danger and distress can only drive us closer to him.” In another letter, he wrote: “Whether I live or die, I am with thee, and thou, my God, art with me. Lord, I wait for thy salvation and for thy kingdom.” Bonhoeffer was executed on Hitler’s orders in April 1945, just prior to the liberation of Berlin. On the morning of his execution, the prison doctor described Bonhoeffer as calm, writing: "The devotion and evident conviction of being heard that I saw in the prayer of this intensely captivating man moved me to the depths."
Eric Liddell was born in 1902 in Tianjin, China, the son of Scottish missionaries. He returned to Scotland to attend boarding school when he was five years old. A gifted athlete, he gained international recognition when he refused to run in the Olympic 100 meter finals because it was held on a Sunday. He instead ran on a Friday and won the 400-meter race in record time. The award winning film "Chariots of Fire" portrayed his running career. In 1925, Liddell returned to China and served as a missionary for the next twenty years. In 1943, he was captured by the Japanese and interned at Weishien Camp with others from the China Inland Mission. Those who knew Eric in the prison camp said he would begin every morning about 6 AM, reading the Bible and praying until the rest of the camp arose at 7 AM. Throughout his captivity, despite hardship and distress, he continually shared his faith with those who were imprisoned with him. In February, 1945… five months before the camp was liberated… he died of an inoperable brain tumor. His demise was probably hastened by the harsh conditions of the camp. More than sixty years after his death, just prior to the 2008 Olympic Games, the Chinese government revealed that Eric Liddell had been given the opportunity to leave the prison camp, but he had given up his place in the prisoner exchange to a pregnant woman.
What is this faith that allows prisoners like Paul and Silas to sing their praise and their petitions to God? What is this faith that allows men like Deitrich Bonhoeffer and Eric Liddell to continue to witness to God’s love and grace even within the hopelessness of their bondage? What is this faith that fosters such trust that even death cannot shake the conviction that God is present and that God is in control? This faith, like God’s grace, is a gift. We cannot earn it. We cannot willfully manufacture it. Jesus tells us that we only need faith the size of a mustard seed in order to move mountains, and yet most of us do not have it. Nor will we truly know how much faith we have until it is tested. Jesus said, “All things can be done for the one who believes” and we, like the father whose child was healed, can only cry, “I believe; help my unbelief!” There is an unbreakable connection between faith… and hope… and prayer… and true freedom despite our circumstances in life. The great Christians of our time and of earlier times have discovered this connection. I pray that we will all discover this unbreakable connection… and that we, with them, will pray simply… earnestly… fervently: “Father, I believe; help my unbelief.” Amen.
Acts 16:16-34