The famous prayer of St. Francis starts with these words: “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith.R We are in the Easter season, and for a few weeks, the sermons will reflect on how to keep Easter joy flowing through us. Today we are looking at what it means to be God’s instrument, just as St. Francis prayed – an instrument of God’s peace, love, pardon, faith.
The Apostle Paul was certainly an instrument of the Lord. He was an intense, highly trained member of the Pharisees, and a persecutor of the young Christian branch of the Jewish faith. Racing toward Damascus, he had a vision of the risen Christ, which knocked him to the ground literally and figuratively. He was literally blinded, in that someone had to lead him around, and figuratively blinded, in that his old way of seeing things no longer made sense to him. For three days, Paul had his own ‘Easter tomb’ experience, staying in darkness neither eating nor drinking, until with the help of others, he was able to be resurrected and step once more into the light of a new day.
It’s a dramatic story, but sometimes the drama of it works to its disadvantage. I’d wager that none of us would boast of a conversion experience comparable to Paul’s. But let me assure you: As important as it is to put our trust in the amazing grace of Jesus, to know that once we were lost but now we are found, once blind but now we see, the conversion story of Paul need not be our conversion story. Paul’s story is remembered precisely because it was atypical and extraordinary.
Here’s the first point I hope you’ll remember: God uses ways to reach you that make sense for who you are. Christ, the risen Lord, finds ways to meet you right where you are. Now, if you are runninghard away from God, away from life and truth and goodness, Christ may meet you like a brick wall that stops you in your tracks. Saul the Pharisee was riding hard in the wrong way until Christ knocked him to the ground and then picked him as a new man named Paul the apostle. You may be walking away from God, heading in the wrong direction and feeling discouraged. Two followers of Jesus were doing just that, leaving Jerusalem after Jesus’ crucifixion, stumbling in the dark on the way to Emmaus when Jesus appeared to them, talked to them, and quietly revealed himself to them – and they changed from sad walkers to joyful runners carrying the message of Jesus’ resurrection to the world. You may be standing still, having done something wrong that weighs heavy on your heart. Simon Peter may not have betrayed Jesus, but he denied him three times. Stewing over that fact while out fishing, the risen Christ called to him from the seashore. Peter swam to the beach, and Christ allowed him to replace three “I don’t know him” statements, with three “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Christ meets you where you are, so rejoice and keep your eyes open.
In many African American churches, it is common for the congregation to talk back to the preachers, to encourage him or her to be bold in their proclamation. When things are going well for the preacher, someone may say, “That’s right” or “Preach it.” When it’s not going so well, someone may say, “Help him, Lord.” When the preachers want to encourage the congregation, they say, “Can I get a witness?” We’ve been talking about Paul’s conversion; but if I asked “Who is willing to be a witness like Paul?” your reaction might be, “Help me, Lord; I’m not like Peter or Paul.” Here’s thesecond point for today: God doesn’t need you to be Paul. God needs you to be you.
Think of it this way: In our passage from Acts, there was another important character we heard about – Ananias. Ananias was just as much an instrument of the Lord as Paul was. After Paul’s dramatic vision, he was taken into Damascus to a house on the street called Straight. Paul couldn’t see and didn’t eat or drink. He wasn’t left alone, but it was clear he couldn’t last long in this condition. Just then, out of all the people in that household and in that entire city, Ananias was the one asked to go help Paul. He was never mentioned before in the bible and after these few verses, he’s never mentioned again. To his credit, when Christ’s word came to him, Ananias’ first response was a faithful one: “Here I am, Lord.” But when he heard what he was asked to do, his second response was a polite version of “Not me, Lord.” Ananias quickly rattled off three objections to visiting Paul: he knew Paul’s reputation; he knew Paul’s crimes; and he knew Paul’s power to arrest anyone he pleased. Christ didn’t argue with Ananias. In effect, those issues were not the point because they referred to who Paul used to be, not who he was now in the eyes of God and in terms of the future plans of Christ. It appears that Ananias’ vision also needed some corrective work done by Christ to cure him of his own special type of blindness.
Stand in Ananias’ shoes for a moment, just as you are right now in your life – as a citizen of this city, as a partner or spouse or someone in relationship with others, with obligations toward others; as a worker or employer or retiree, as a volunteer or helper or friend. Now look beyond your immediate sphere of influence – the places you go, the people with whom you interact – and think about how Christ is calling you to travel to a new place. To go to different people. To do different things – activist things, gutsy things. It may mean getting political, getting involved, getting your hands dirty. It may involve gay rights or animal rights, equity for women, equity in our school budgets, protection for children, getting guns off the streets. It may send you down the Straight Street to jail, to a halfway house, a women’s shelter, a foster care office. It may affect how often you come here on Sundays and how much time you spend once you arrive. It may affect your wardrobe, your postings on Facebook, your monthly bank statements. God doesn’t need you to be Paul. God needs you to be a faithful, active “you.” Just ask Ananias.
In effect Christ says to each of us, “You are an instrument whom I love and whom I have chosen to bring my name before others.” The Greek word used here for “instrument” is a pretty general term. Think of it as meaning a vessel or a big container, something whose value is determined by what it holds, by what fills it up and what it carries. What it looks like on the outside makes no difference at all. (There’s a sermon in there somewhere.) What’s important is whether this instrument, this vessel, is willing to be emptied of other stuff, other junk or fears or false perceptions that are just taking up space, so that God can fill it and make it an instrument of the risen Christ. (I know there’s a second sermon in there.)
Let me tell a quick story. The 1916 Presidential Election was a close one between Republican Charles Evans Hughes and Democrat Woodrow Wilson. Both went to bed on election night believing that Hughes had pulled off a narrow victory. But around 4:00 am, a Western Union messenger knocked on the door of Governor Hughes. A servant answered and said that the President of the United States could not be disturbed. To which the messenger replied, “Tell the President he’s not President anymore.”
Sometimes you have to empty the container first before it can be filled with what truly needs to be in it. Hughes might not have become President, but he did serve as Secretary of State and later as Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Ananias was filled with objections to the request that he should go lay hands on this dangerous man from Tarsus, but Christ re-filled him as an instrument of healing whose touch moved Paul from darkness to new life as a witness for the Lord.
Last point for today: To be an instrument for God simply means you know where you stand and with whom you stand. Try to imagine the boundaries of this world – the sphere that surrounds you made up of people, nations and all creation. Now imagine the place where God’s world bumps up against the boundaries of this world – the seam between the kingdom of God and the kingdom of this world. Take this to heart: The dividing line between those two worlds is not somewhere out there – at some distant horizon. The dividing line between the world and the reign of God passes directly through the center of the church, right through the heart of each one of us.1 You are the place where Christ’s realm and this world collide. That, by definition, makes you an instrument of God’s peace, love, pardon, grace, and faith.
And as such an instrument, you don’t need to be Paul, or maybe even Ananias. You just need to be you with Christ for others.
AMEN