As a culture, if we produce anything that’s good or beautiful, or effective or helpful, we immediately feel the pressure to improve on it.

 

Every summer blockbuster now seems to leave room for a sequel 

Every product pitched is somehow new AND improved…think about that… 

Every season of fashion gives way to “what’s next” 

Every piece of technology is only good until it’s replaced with a better model. 

We don’t tend to think of “sequels” in the Bible, but our Scripture for today lands us smack in the middle of perhaps the best example of such a thing. 

Acts is Luke the 2^nd in a great many ways. Scholars have noted the narrative symmetry of the two books.

 They share the same author, Luke, an educated Gentile. 

Luke tells the story of the good news—the “gospel” of Jesus Christ—his birth, life, teachings, death, resurrection and ascension. 

Acts tells the story of the church that carried the Gospel—it’s birth, early life, figures and structure, going and sending. 

Luke 2 tells the story of the birth of Jesus.

 Acts 2 tells the story of the birth of the church.

 Church tradition calls this “Pentecost Sunday”—the day when the Holy Spirit descended on a rag-tag group of Jesus-followers, gathered together plotting their next move. “Something like” Scripture says—“something like” tongues of fire descend on those gathered few and they immediately went OUT. 

They went out, but they didn’t go far. In fact, they need only turn around to the crowd that had come expecting a meteor shower or some sort of astronomical display, only to find a group of people gathered together.

 Just as Luke spoke of shepherds coming to Bethlehem he now speaks of crowds gathering around Jesus’ followers. The difference between Luke and Acts is now seen in the makeup of the audience—these are not a monolithic group of wandering shepherds, but a diverse tapestry of tribes and empires, peoples and cultures, each with their own customs and traditions, beliefs and languages.

The story goes that the crowd of followers gathered on that day began to speak in other tongues “as the Spirit gave them utterance”. I know this subject makes Baptists squirm a little bit, but this is not the kind of tongues Paul talks about in some of his letters. These “tongues of fire” empowered the disciples to speak to the various communities that had been brought to their upper-room doorstep. It allowed them to speak the fullness of the Good News of Jesus in a language the people could understand—their own tongue.

The gathered communities don’t know what to do with this information…it simply doesn’t add up. These people are all Galileans by birth—they’re not even particularly cultured or well-traveled folks—so how is it that they are each speaking to us in our own language—in the words and phrases our parents used to sing to us, scold us and direct us?

Then there’s something of a laundry list of cultures—Medes, Parthians, Cretans and Arabs, Cappadocians, Elamites, Phyrigians, Proselytes—you get the idea.

And the Scripture says it all:

“All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another ‘WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!?!??!’” 

More or less, it meant that the message had shifted. Jesus the Christ, the Jewish boy who was also somehow fully God had now moved beyond all borders.

 Knowing what we now know it’s easy to wonder how they didn’t see this coming. The narrative theme of the entire Bible is that God longs to be in fellowship with God’s own creation—ALL of us, not just some.

            We see that in the Garden of Eden, with man and woman in beautiful divine relationship with one another and with God. We see it in God’s love for Abraham and a covenant established with Abram. Many times we think God’s love stopped with Israel—that there is no room in God’s kingdom for those beyond the genetic pool of the Hebrews, but the witness of Scripture disagrees. Earlier in Luke’s gospel Jesus is in his own hometown and when the people demand a magic-show miracle he reminds them of the history they’ve so quickly forgotten.

            Elijah was sent to raise a dead boy to life at a time when there was a famine and Hebrew children dropping like flies. Still, God chose to heal only a widow of Zarephath—a heathen, an “other”—someone beyond the realm of Israel.

            Then Jesus reminds them of the story of Elisha who healed Naaman of leprosy. Naaman wasn’t just an enemy of Israel, he was a military commander! Imagine if a US soldier had spent time to tend the wounds of an Al-Qaeda operative or a Viet-Cong years ago! Some would have called it treason, but in these situations, Jesus reminds the crowd (and us) that it was a divine act on the part of the God of Israel to push salvation beyond the walls of Israel. To suggest, even at a very early point in the history of the Jewish people that this salvation was, in fact, for EVERYONE.

            But that’s not all. The prophets continue to point to this, each one of them screaming more loudly than the last—do not neglect the stranger, the immigrant, the one in your midst that wouldn’t normally be there. Extend grace to these—give them food, water and shelter.

            Most of us think of Jonah as a fish story, forgetting that what put Jonah into the whale wasn’t simple disobedience but bigotry. After the Babylonians had led his people away into captivity with hooks in their jaws Jonah thought they were unworthy of God’s provision and care. He refused to carry a message of reconciliation and so we get a rare glimpse of humor in the Bible as the prodigal prophet becomes fish-bait.

            The last verse of Jonah even takes it a step further—this message of salvation and restoration isn;’t just about the battle for the souls of men and women—apparently it goes to the larger culture, economy, eco-system and structure.

            But Nineveh has more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left, and many cattle as well. Should I not be concerned about that great city?

 God cares about the cattle? seriously? is this the theme of Scripture? A God that cares about humans and cattle? Jews and Babylonians? Widows and War criminals? 

the answer, in a word? YES.

 We quote it all the time, but we scarcely take time to notice the implications. 

“For God so loved THE WORLD that he gave his one and only son.” 

Not Kennesaw, not white-anglo-saxon protestants, not single moms, not the disenfranchised or abused, but the WORLD. The answer is not one over another, but “D. ALL OF THE ABOVE.”

 And as each tribe and race heard the full message of Jesus and him crucified in their own tongue that day they asked each other “WHAT     DOES   THIS     MEAN!?!?”

 In the Spirit of Luke and Acts, I’d like to take the second part of our time together this morning to ask that question of us.

 We are a church—a gathered community of people who confess that Jesus is Lord. We may differ in our understanding of particular aspects of other things, but we agree that Jesus is Lord and he represents the best way in which we can understand, comprehend and embrace the limitless love of a gracious God.

 We bring to this place our own stories of faith and culture—our own “tongues”, ultimately familiar only to us, but over time shared with the church as a whole, for the purpose of growing into better followers of Jesus. 

At it’s most basic level, this is my job as Associate Pastor for Faith Development—trying to find the point and places where we engage one another and know one another well enough to speak the truth in love and become better disciples of Jesus—people who are following more closely today then we did yesterday.

 Part of my story is the story of my “home” church—the place that nourished my faith from a young age through adolescence, eventually into a call to ministry and college. When I was 18 a motion was brought before our church by a committee that had been tasked with evaluating the future growth and facility needs of our church.

The committee brought back a recommendation that the church relocate from its then current location in South Cobb County to 40 acres of land in east Paulding County. There was a fair amount of discussion and evaluation before making such a decision. There were passionate individuals on either side of it, but the proposal had more than enough votes to pass. I remember four men, pillars of the church—prayer warriors—the kind of guys who listened first then talked—four men I respected deeply and who helped model faith for me.

They voted against the proposal. They wouldn’t speak publicly about it, but agreed to talk to individuals who approached them privately. I goaded my Dad until he talked to one of them to get the scoop. The answer he came back with, at the time, floored me. Their reply basically was “This is painful and I’ve prayed over it for weeks now. Yes, the community around this church is changing. Yes, the church is landlocked and would have to grow up and not out and that isn’t the best financial option. But God has placed us in THIS community. There are still needs all around us. There are children to be loved and taught the Bible, there are families that are breaking apart, addicts who need a safe place to recover in community. We just think we’re supposed to be about that in this community.”

I thought they were crazy. East Paulding county, in those days, might as well have been the Western Frontier in the early 1800’s. It was a place of limitless growth and possibilities. It only made sense to leave and go somewhere where God could bless us and we could increase in any number of ways.

A couple of weeks ago I had a meeting with another Pastor in our immediate area. We started telling a little bit about ourselves and our background. I paused when he mentioned that he used to run an after-school program at a high school less than one mile from the former address of my “home” church. He started the program after a group of 11-16 year olds viciously assaulted a mentally handicapped girl in a home a bike’s ride away from my old church. He said he felt like there had to be a witness in that community—something positive—computers and basketball, tutoring and robotics—all to give the kids something to do that was positive instead of acting on base impulses and with horrific violence.

I admired what he had done, but I felt some complicity. I had been there and left. What’s more, the church I had known, once relocated, found itself within a chip-shot of two other Baptist churches, all with the same demographic and target audience.

Folks, I’m not meaning to question God’s wisdom and I grant that on any given day and all of us can miss what the Spirit whispers in our ears. What I am saying is that conversation made me wonder whether or not we had truly heard the Spirit when it was trying to teach us to speak in the tongues of our neighbors.

So where does that put Towne View? How well are we speaking in the tongues of our neighbors? Do we know them? and what kind of neighbor are we being?

A few months ago I was watching a program on a church in an economically depressed suburb of Chicago. Despite a main street that looked like a ghost town and city unemployment at 48% a local church was thriving. Members were being added on a daily basis, over 90% of them from less than a quarter mile of the church. When he was interviewed, the journalist asked the Pastor how they were doing it. He said that he stood up one morning, preaching to a committed few and said “If this church closed it’s doors tomorrow would this community notice?” After silently answering that question, the congregation determined to do something about it. They set up a food pantry, job network and transportation ministry for seniors. They renovated a nearby community center and offered youth programs in computers, football, soccer and science. They baptized over 200 people in one year and added hundreds more to the church roll. And giving quadrupled, even in the most economically depressed county in Illinois.

 Naturally, I began to ask that question of Towne View

If Towne View closed its door tomorrow, who else in this community notice?

Would Camden Shiloh notice? or the Villas? Greenhouse apartments or Poplar Place? College Place or Dunmovin? Shiloh Green or Highland Court? Laurel’s Edge or Clarinbridge? KSU or Palmer Middle School?

 The answer, of course, was yes.

 About 100 college students who meet here once a week for worship and fellowship would notice.

 Residents from highland Court and Laurel’s Edge would notice when there are no carolers at Christmas or turkeys for thanksgiving dinner.

 Residents of neighboring apartments and subdivisions would notice when there’s no Easter Eggstravaganza or Fall Family Fun Fair for their children.

 Thousands of residents would head to a different polling place that may or may not offer coffee and a sugar rush of desserts.

 Chalker would notice when there aren’t new backpacks loaded with school supplies.

 150 children would notice. In three weeks they’ll be running all over this property, about 100 of which don’t go here and 50 of which will have no church affiliation—what is our witness to THEM?

There are items on the sponsor board outside that represent those children—craft supplies and bible study materials, decorations and teacher guides that will tell them the story of Jesus—what does it say to the community if we don’t meet those needs?

There are people who have ignored the excuses in their heads—they didn’t listen when their brain said “You’ve done your time.” or “I don’t do kids.” They’ve committed themselves to being salt and light to these children—to tell them the story of Jesus. Some of you are those people—your name is on that board out there. Some you aren’t yet but you need to be.

We have maintained a tremendous witness to this community, but we can’t afford to rest on our laurels—to be a living church is to be a moving, going, growing community of Jesus-followers.

So what else would this community miss? How else are we reaching the people around us? Are we ignoring the most basic command of Christ to first love God and our neighbor?

A few weeks ago we commissioned missionaries to go and to serve, even now as a team of Builders for Christ gathers in Ohio for worship this morning. Jim encouraged us in that sermon to go and preach the gospel, and many of us have. But have those of us who have stayed still preached the gospel? Have we carried the fullness of the Good News—not just a tract and a smile and a prayer that everything will be alright, but the kind of transformative, life—giving full Gospel that calls us to engage that family, that person. To help find jobs for the jobless, hope for the hopeless, recovery for the addict, peace for the single-parent at their breaking point, hope and home for the immigrant.

Have we been Jesus to people? Have we offered them something that changes every bit of who they are or have we been lulled into complacency by the joy and fellowship we share? Life here is good—people here are good but normally when you have something this good you want to share it…

Way back in Acts the fist disciples were supernaturally gifted to speak in the native tongues of the people crowded at their door. I don’t think it’s stretching too much to say we’ve been provided a similar opportunity. We can’t all know the ins and outs of being unemployed, or an immigrant to a strange new country, or in the middle of divorce or cancer, but we can empathize. We can love that person and make every effort to listen to them, to care for them, to befriend them as Jesus has befriended us.

 Every moment we spend in rapt attention listening to their stories we learn to speak a new language.

 Every time we stop in the middle of an ordinary day to think of that neighbor we enter into their world—we begin to speak and think in their native tongue.

 You may not know Spanish of Swahili but you know love.

 You may not make a lot of money but you know the pressures it brings.

 You may have never been abandoned by someone but you’ve had your heartbroken.

 You may not have a chemical dependency but you can know what it’s like to try to fill a void in your life like a bottomless pit.

 You may not have an early education degree, but you can give a five year old a cup of Kool-Aid and a smile.

 Pentecost is the story of the birth of God’s church—the big picture, capital “C” church that is as wide and deep as all of humanity. One article I read this week put it better than I could:

God doesn’t move according to the pronouncements of Church councils or by the declarations of religious leaders. God’s Spirit works like the wind, blowing where it chooses. It’s blowing even now in our world! Can we hear it? Are we open to its urgings, even if it moves us in uncomfortable ways? John 3:16 doesn’t say, “For God so loved the Church . . .” It says, “For God so loved the world”! John 3:17 doesn’t say that God condemns the world, but that God sent his Son into the world to save it. God doesn’t call us to church membership; God calls us to become fully human by following Christ, serving and loving others. There’s a big difference between church work and the work of the Church. The former keeps us busy maintaining an institution, while the latter takes us out of our comfort zones and sends us into the world to join the work of God’s Spirit, making all things new. Eternal life is not what happens when life ends; it’s what happens when life begins through the grace and mercy of Jesus Christ.

We invited to participate in that blessed community. At some point in time someone spoke to us in our native tongue and shared with us the story of Jesus. Inasmuch as we have received, we go now to do likewise. To take the gospel to this community, this people, this place. To shine God’s light to Kennesaw and to Acworth, to KSU and Chalker Elementary. To share God’s love with everyone on Frey, Busbee and Shiloh and everywhere in between.

Thankfully this church is still here—we haven’t closed any doors or ceased to do ministry, but we do risk forgetting the Spirit which gives us the power to move and to love, to give and to serve. We have been given this incredible opportunity—this diverse community of faith and experiences, callings and professions, passions and personalities and we may be tempted to ask ourselves “What does this mean?”

It means that we have been given all we need to speak in the tongues of our neighbors—that they might hear the good news of Jesus Christ that sets them free from all sorts of bondage to broken relationships and career choices, behavior patterns and addictions.

It means that we have a job to do, but not one that we do in our own power—it is a job that we do as the Spirit gives us strength. Ask someone who has worked VBS or is on Builders for Christ—by Wednesday you don’t HAVE any strength left—it is the Spirit at work IN US!!!

It means that we must be a good neighbor. It means we ought to know the people in our own neighborhood.

It means that we must risk putting aside our own assumptions in order to be Jesus to people.

It means that we must first seek to understand our community, not assume that they should first understand us.

It means that we carry the life-giving message of Jesus.

It means that we have a reason to be here on Sundays other than swapping stories about our weeks.

It means we have a purpose and a connection—one that’s only as good as our willingness to extend it to everyone.

It means that God so loved the world that he gave his only son—for you, me, Greenhouse, KSU, Laurel’s Edge—all of us.

It means sitting on the sidelines is not an option.

It means that church is not a spectator sport.

It means that we are the ones Christ left in charge of this little corner of God’s world at this place and time.

We know what it means—the question is what will we do with it?

Rewind to last night as Jen and I are reviewing the financing for some furniture we purchased. I looked at the interest rate and thought "I could do better than that." There were other financing options with the store, and more than a few other possibilities. The company we were working with is a subsidiary of AIG and may be sold at any moment to another bank, threatening the jobs of the people we've worked with at that company for the last five years. When I thought about their service, and the kindness they have shown us, I wasn't that torn up about paying a little more.

I think part of the problem is that in a lot of ways our economic system is predicated on always getting the lowest bottom line with little moral regard for the way it impacts the lives of other people. The key phrase in the paragraphs above is "When I thought about it." The truth is, we thought about it. We thought about the furniture we were buying, whether it was extravagant, unnnecessary. We set-out to "right the wrongs" we'd learned from our poorly constructed current furniture. It took a lot of thought and a lot of talking. 

We were at the New Baptist Covenant back in January when Tony Campolo spoke. Tony says a lot of good things, and it's tempting to rattle off a list of "Campolo-isms" anytime you're talking about the poor, the Church and the world at large. A good friend of ours ducked out of the session, saying "I've heard him a few times and I know what he's gonna say so I thought I'd check out of that one." I understood the temptation, but I was glad we stuck around. You can view the sermon in its' entirety below, and, in our current shopping-day count-down, I'd encourage you to check it out if you've got the time, but for the purpose of this post, check in at the 15 minute mark and you'll hear what I'm talking about.

He says something that was incredibly simple but still a "hard lesson". "'You're saying we have to question everything we buy!' and I'm saying 'OF COURSE! If you're a follower of Jesus, YES!" And that means we have to think about it, long and hard--everything we do. We can't go on a spree. I'd even go so far as to tell you that I'm starting to catch myself looking at the tag of a shirt and wondering what that factory in China, India, Bangladesh or Mexico looks like--and that is a lousy thing to do in the middle of this season--particularly when I'd much rather pay the 70% off price.

It's tempting to stop at goods, stuff, property, consumerism, but this thinking thing has to be holistic in some sense, and that brings me to this ongoing conversation initiated in the Out of Ur blog by Dan Kimball , which is a part of Leadership magazine.

Kimball is essentially asking whether or not the "missional" model of church does any better job of making genuine disciples than the "megachurch" model. There are hundreds of entries in the blogosphere about this idea, with varying reactions. (I'd recommend Julie Clawson and Erika Haub's responses as a primer).

To those reading this who aren't church geeks, the lingo break-down goes thusly--Which church is closer to what Jesus was really about? Smaller, tight-knit churches that are radically committed to their community or larger, "attractional" churches that have money/buildings/resources to put on a show and call the people to them. I don't think it's overstating the situation to say it's the difference between going to your local neighborhood playground with the rusty seesaw versus making the pilgrimage to Six Flags, Carowinds, etc.

I've been struggling with knowing how to respond to this conversation, but I'm struck by two great realities:

As said on Julie Clawson's blog "What you call people with is what you're calling them to." Apparently that's an old maxim I missed somewhere, but I think it's brilliant, and there is a sense of that in both the missional and attractional.

The second reality is "Of course there's more 'disciples' in a mega-church!" And I don't mean just numerically. If you adjust for disciple "inflation," the missional model would still get crushed. My point is I don't think that's a bad thing.

Taking a missional approach will always be the harder road because while grace is free, we'd still prefer it cheap. It is (and always will be) easier to join a church or a movement that asks purely existential questions.

If your church is near a shopping mall, chances are you will not find Christ speaking to you through the beggars on the street.

If your church has trolleys to run people to their cars, chances are you will not find tired feet to wash in Jesus' name

If your church doesn't cause you to think about your lifestyle because everyone at your church shares your lifestyle, you have not encountered the fullness of God's kingdom.

The missional model forces something more to the surface. It takes the challenges of Jesus seriously and it makes us question everything. 

Questions aren't easy. Living in tension is not easy, but it's what we're called to as "disciples." 

So we join churches slower. 

We think before we build. 

We talk before we buy.

We (this is tough for me) listen before we talk. 

Not because we have it all figured out, but precisely because we don't.