Trusting in the right story

Acts 17:1-9

A long time ago, not long after Jesus died and was raised, there were these two guys named Paul and Silas. You may recognize their names because they have become part of a story that we have in the form of the New Testament, but in those days, they were just two men with their own story to share with people. However, their story did not square with the story that the people knew and understood. The peoples’ story involved a conquering king restoring the Promised Land to Israel and the defeat of the occupying powers. This was the story around which God’s Chosen People had formed their identity for hundreds of years. It was a story that was not so easily abandoned on the testimony of just two guys named Paul and Silas.

            I want to pause here, so that we might consider, “What are our stories?” What are the things we presume to know? And how do we know them?

            You see, these people already had identities when Paul and Silas showed up. Some of them were Greeks, some of them were Jews, all had their identities rooted in a certain culture and way of life. Paul and Silas came with a hard ask, “Give up your identities, because they are not ultimate. Your identity is in Jesus.”

            For those of us who are born Christian and who are brought into the faith by parents who had us baptized apart from our choosing, this is a foreign story. Our story has always been rooted in Christ. However, in our daily lives, we are barraged by other stories that claim our allegiance. In which stories do you put your trust? And why?

            I believe these are important questions to consider today, because there are countless stories out there. Especially when it comes to new and developing situations, the world is ripe for stories that serve the purpose of the storyteller. And it’s not as easy as seeing through the fake news, or whatever you want to call it, because your own deeply engrained story may also be flawed.

            The question is where to put our trust. What is the story that is worth it all?


            I put myself in the shoes of those 1^st century Jews, especially, and I’m fairly certain I would not have trusted Paul and Silas. Most people who come like Paul and Silas have their own agenda; they want your money; they want some measure of power and influence. The story of Christian evangelism through the ages has often been the story of abuse of power—in Jesus’ name, of course.

            Still, there is something powerful in this story over against the Christians who share it for the wrong reasons. It persists in spite of storytellers as often as it does because of them. Paul and Silas were that rare breed who practiced what they preached, and maybe that makes all the difference. In fact, I’m willing to bet it does. Anybody can say anything, but the question is whether that story is powerful enough to change you.

            So, when I see Christians preaching the story of Jesus, who practiced a radical kind of love and welcoming of the stranger, I ask myself, “Are those Christians showing that same kind of radical love and hospitality?” Sometimes yes, sometimes no. You can’t proclaim a faith that champions Mary’s Magificat—that the powerful will be torn down from their thrones—and then grovel at the feet of the powerful. If you do, your story stinks. You can’t preach the gospel of Jesus, who bent toward the most vulnerable in every conceivable fashion, and then turn around and legislate contrary to the most vulnerable. If you do, your story stinks.

            Too many Christians spend their time manipulating the story of Jesus when they need to spend their time becoming more like Jesus. The stories we tell ourselves are powerful and persistent, but if any of our stories stand against the story of a man from Galilee who lived and died and rose from the dead, then what good are those stories anyway?

            We each have a story, and that story is deeply personal to us. How that story interacts with the story of Jesus Christ is also personal. It won’t do to paint with broad brush strokes. Your story might convince you to be a Republican or a Democrat or to be neither. Your story might convince you to be a doctor, or a lawyer, or a teacher, or a farmer, or nothing of the sort. Your story might lead you to have children or not. Your story will impact how you make every decision in your life every single day. There are countless intersecting stories that make up you. So, first of all, I want to affirm that your stories matter. You are who you are because of a million stories, some within your control but many outside of it. Regardless, you are loved by God, the great story-teller, who crafted you so that you could help co-create the world.

            However, with that great freedom comes great responsibility. You are not free to tell your story as if it is the exclusive worldview, no matter what other folks believe. You are not free to be right, while the world is wrong. You are not free to manipulate Jesus for your own ends.

            This happens subtly. We lose touch with what is most important. We value abstractions over people. We value not just money but all the things that money represents—freedom and power. We put our trust in big economies when we should be tending to the smaller economy of our home with more respect for the vulnerable and unseen generations that are to follow. We live in fear, not because we love others but because we love ourselves. That is a subtle distinction, but it makes all the difference. After all, as Jesus taught us: Love God, love your neighbor. The rest is commentary.

            So, you have a story to tell. And right now, you may be feeling many things about that story in light of our current predicament. You probably feel stymied. You might be frustrated or angry. You may even be harboring ill will toward others. All of those feelings are human. Feel what you feel, then check to see if your story is lined up with the good news of Jesus Christ. Are you swimming in the grace afforded you as a child of God? Are you feeling called to spend that grace for the sake of others? Are you loving God and people?

            These are important questions to ask of the stories we tell ourselves, because in this 24-hour news cycle that wants to tell you a thousand sad and aggravating stories, you need to be able to center yourself on something good and true. The good news of Jesus is that rare thing that cuts through all our bologna. We need to turn off the TV more often and turn to God, and when I say that, it’s not just picking up the Bible, though perhaps for you it starts there. For many, we turn to God whenever we stop thinking about our sorry plight and start loving on other people. So, who do you need to call today? Whose day do you want to improve? How can you show that love in the days of pandemic?

            The stories on the news are powerful, but we can reset ourselves. Be Paul and Silas. Don’t let the norm keep you from the most powerful story. Tell it to others through cards and well-wishes, through jokes and memes, through whatever you need to do to stay sane out there. That’s how we proclaim Christ crucified and risen. However we do that is the story that we must share.