“He Fell Asleep”
I was with my parents the other weekend. They were recounting the week’s ups and downs, which included doctor’s visits for them both for their annual checkups. My mom made an observation that perhaps some of you can relate to: “Getting old is no picnic. Every day seems to bring with it a new ailment.” My dad pondered this for a moment before replying, “Well, it beats the alternative.”
Today’s scripture is a serious text, and I struggled to think of a lighthearted introduction. I hope that will suffice. It’s the best I can offer this week!
For Stephen, following Christ brings not only trouble, but also the dreaded “alternative” of which my dad spoke. And that’s where I want to begin. Our English translation reports that after Stephen had said his final words, “he died” (Acts 7:60). But that’s not actually what the Greek says. The Greek says, “He fell asleep.” As though to remind us, we are living now on the other side of the resurrection. Death is not the same as it was before. It is an end, but not the end.
I hesitate to mention any of this, because our culture regularly denies or avoids death as it is. Whether it’s health regimens or cosmetics that make us look younger, or medical remedies that seek to prolong life indefinitely no matter its quality, or an obsession with immortality that manifests equally in technology and religion, we have all sorts of tools at our disposal to deny or avoid death. But the resurrection, which Jesus inaugurated only weeks before Stephen’s stoning, is not an avoidance of death. It is an acceptance of death–as a passage (a crossing, we might say) into an even grander reality. When the book of Acts says that Stephen fell asleep, I do not think it is saying that death no longer exists. I think it is saying that followers of Christ can receive death the same way that we receive sleep every night: by letting go and trusting God. Sleep is not a metaphor to erase the grim, black-and-white figure death, but rather a metaphor to color it in tenderly with surrender and trust.
Centuries later, Saint Francis of Assisi would do something similar, when he referred to death as “Sister Death” and included her with other elements of creation like Brother Wind, Sister Water, and Brother Fire, all good and necessary parts of life. The question is not “How do we avoid this part of life?” but “How do we live with it?”
Stephen’s Posture
What fascinates me in today’s scripture is Stephen’s posture. Not his physical, bodily posture, but his spiritual posture.
He is standing before an adversarial council of powerful religious leaders. He certainly does not mince his words, as he recounts Israel’s history in a prophetic manner, laying particular blame on the powerful, first casting shade on King Solomon for thinking he could domesticate God by putting him in a house and then suggesting that the religious council is no different than the leaders of the past who put the prophets to death. Personally, I find Stephen’s words a little inflammatory. Psychologists remind us that criticizing someone else is generally a counterproductive tactic for stimulating change or growth. A person’s kneejerk reaction to criticism is usually to dig their heels in, to become further entrenched in their viewpoint.
But putting these personal differences aside, I marvel at Stephen’s spiritual posture. I marvel that he speaks not in order to save his life, but to share where he has found life. I marvel that he speaks honestly, knowing that he is powerless to change others and that he will likely die. I marvel even more at the way he dies. Or “falls asleep.”
Hundreds of years before Stephen, there is a similar incident that takes place in the temple. A priest, Zechariah, receives the spirit of God and prophesies against the king. But the king and his followers do not like this. They stone Zechariah to death in the temple. As Zechariah lay dying, he said this: “May the Lord see and avenge!” (2 Chron 24:22). But when Stephen dies at the hands of his adversaries in a strikingly similar circumstance, he says something strikingly different, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them” (Acts 7:60). This is remarkable evidence of spiritual change, spiritual growth. Stephen could say this only because he had learned it somewhere else first. His teacher, Jesus, had taught this lesson, not only in word but also in deed. As we saw just a few weeks back, Jesus put this teaching into practice toward the very people who’d put him on the cross.
The Church on Trial?
We live in a very different world than Stephen’s world. I know a lot of Christians feel like the church is on trial or being persecuted, but I do not believe that is the case. I believe it is closer to the opposite, actually. That is to say, the church has long since assumed the mantle of the religious council in today’s story. For centuries, the church has held immense influence and power, often rubbing shoulders with emperors and kings and presidents. It is no coincidence that for many years the Bible has been sworn on in courts of law, that prayers to a Christian God have been made in the halls of power, that the motto “In God we trust” has been printed on coins and state flags and seals. The church in the western world has stood nowhere near where Stephen stood, except in the case of minority denominations (such as the Baptists in early Virginia, some of whom were actually jailed for preaching without a license). Much of the time, the church has stood closer to the powers doing the persecuting than to the people being persecuted. On occasion, the very text that we read today, in which Stephen refers to the Jewish leaders as “betrayers and murderers of Jesus” (Acts 7:52), has been used as justification for the destruction of synagogues and slaughter of the Jewish people.
But there is a strong sentiment on the wind that Christians here are being persecuted, when in fact it is simply the case that Christianity is losing its cultural power. Some Christians fear that they will no longer be able to set the terms by which society lives. A few years ago, a group of disgruntled people, some of whom were animated by this fear, descended on the nation’s capital. Of the defiant cries shouted among these people, one in particular caught my attention: “Christ is king!”
I want to respond to that sentiment—and that sentiment only—because I find it not only erroneous but deceptive. It is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. No. Christ is not your king, if you’re seeking the halls of power. No. Christ is not your king, if you’re seeking vengeance. No. Christ is not your king, if you are armed to get your way.
To be clear, I see this wolf in sheep’s clothing not only among people who resolve to fight for what they believe is rightfully theirs, but also among people who have turned politics into a battleground and have enlisted Jesus as their guide. Jesus does not want to command armies. Jesus does not want to enforce laws with arms and imprisonment. Jesus invites us to put down the sword, not to pick it up; to make enemies into friends, not neighbors into enemies; to bless not to curse. Jesus invites us to live in a different kingdom with different values and a different way of being. The resurrection is not the promise of immortality, but the transformation of this world into a new creation where God’s love reigns. Theologians Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw suggest that where the church feels like it is “losing ground,” it has confused its aims with national or cultural aims. They explain, “We are seeing more and more that the church has fallen in love with the state and that this love affair is killing the church’s imagination. The powerful benefits and temptations of running the world’s largest superpower have bent the church’s identity. Having power at its fingertips, the church often finds ‘guiding the course of history’ a more alluring goal than following the crucified Christ. Too often the patriotic values of pride and strength triumph over the spiritual values of humility, gentleness, and sacrificial love.”[1]
“If my kingdom were from this world,” Jesus said, “my followers would be fighting….But as it is, my kingdom is not from here” (John 18:36).
Our Witness to
Another World
Father Greg Boyle, who oversees the world’s largest gang rehabilitation program (i.e., ministry), says he is sometimes asked, “Aren’t you worried that some gang members will take advantage of your kindness?” His response is, “How can anyone ‘take’ my advantage? I’m giving them my advantage.” I think similarly when I consider the situation of the church today. There is nothing to “take back.” We are a people of the gift.
What gets Stephen into the mess he finds himself in, is not some culture war offensive. Rather, it is his witness. He is serving widows in need (Acts 6:1). He is “waiting on tables” (Acts 6:2). And apparently God’s grace shines so brightly through him, as he does “great wonders and signs” among the people, that some Jewish company men begin to take notice and feel threatened (Acts 6:9). They whisper rumors and bring charges and finally deliver him up to the religious council.
Where he simply continues to witness, unto his death. Which is remarkably similar to the pattern of Jesus’ life. The suggestion seems clear to me. This is how Christ-followers live. We are not winners in this world, people who get their way. We are witnesses, ambassadors for a different world, a different way.
The book of Acts tells us that in Stephen’s final moments, he looks into the sky and sees “the son of man standing at the right hand of God” (Acts 7:56). In other words, he sees Christ the king. Stephen is a man for whom Christ truly is king. When we serve others rather than seek to subjugate them, when we forgive rather than seek revenge, when we arm ourselves with cooking utensils and garden tools rather than weapons of war—then Christ is king indeed. Then we shall see the son of man standing at the right hand of God. Not only that, but then we shall be standing with him in the kingdom of God. It is, we believe, a better place to be.
Prayer
Whose witness in Christ
Reveals a new creation,
A new way of living
…
Draw us out of the fear and bitterness
That our world preaches,
And into the peaceful, open-handed posture
Of our Lord, and Stephen, and countless other witnesses.
In Christ, crucified and risen: Amen.
[1] Michael L. Budde, The Borders of Baptism: Identities, Allegiances, and the Church
(Theopolitical Visions; Eugene: Cascade, 2011), 104.
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