Reverend Jonathan Waits
Sermon: An Inclusive Message (Acts 9:32-11:30)
Date: July 9, 2023
Do you know what one of the most polarizing words in modern English is? “Christian.” That word is the cause of not a little angst on the part of many people both in the church and out. There are some in the church who don’t like the title because of the cultural connotations it has come to have. In the same vein, there are a lot of folks out there who hear the word and associate a whole host of negative adjectives with it: judgmental, small-minded, exclusive, bigoted, intolerant, homophobic, unloving, uncaring, and the list goes on. Then, of course, there are the folks who wear the title like a banner and are kind of judgmental toward all those who don’t. But, have you ever wondered where the word “Christian” came from? Some of the Bible scholars in the room may know that it was not what Jesus’ followers originally called themselves. They preferred the much simpler and, frankly, more descriptive title “disciple.” So how and when did the name change start to happen? Better yet, what does it actually mean to be a Christian? I mean, if we’re honest, there are a whole lot of different kinds of people who believe and do a whole lot of different kinds of things who all claim the title as descriptive of them. A little clarity here would surely be helpful.
Well, thankfully, as we continue our journey through the incredible story of the church this morning, the next part of the story sheds some light on all of this for us. This morning we are in the sixth part of the story of the rise of the church found in Dr. Luke’s gripping historical narrative, Acts. The story began with the disciples standing around with Jesus just before He ascended into the sky, still not really understanding what all they were supposed to be doing as His followers. Before leaving them standing around with their mouths open at the shock of His rising up into the heavens and disappearing in a cloud, He gave them their final marching orders. They were to wait until the Holy Spirit came to empower them, and then they were to bear witness to everything He said and did. They were to do this in Jerusalem, all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth. A few days later the Holy Spirit came—just as Jesus had promised—and the church exploded onto the Jerusalem scene.
The initial surge, though, wasn’t a mere fluke. The powerful words, loving actions, and attractive community created by the Jesus followers drew people in like ants to a picnic. From there we saw how the boldness of the early Jesus followers combined with their taking the whole adventure with the seriousness it deserved, drove the church through every challenge it faced whether external or internal in origin. And yet, boldness has a price, and as a disciple named Stephen found out, sometimes that price is high. Sometimes, you see, boldness sparks persecution. Responding with anger or caution, however, only delivers victory to the persecutors. The only good response to the persecution that boldness sometimes sparks is more Gospel boldness. And indeed, when Jesus followers boldly do our part, pairing our meager efforts with those of the God who always does His, the church grows, which, by the way, should be our goal. We should seek for the church to be as big as we can possibly make it because that means we will be able to personally account for a whole lot more people in heaven with us one day.
All of that brings us to this morning. We have seen the Gospel come full circle in Jerusalem. We have seen the Gospel blanket Judea and Samaria. We have seen the transformation of the church’s chief opponent into the church’s chief proponent in the conversion of Saul, who later changed his name to Paul, possibly in honor of his first major convert which we’ll talk about in a few weeks. All that’s left in Jesus’ marching orders is the ends of the earth. But that meant the Gospel was going to have to be proclaimed to some folks that the current crop of disciples were going to have some trouble embracing. How would they handle it? Let’s find out.
The story opens near the end of Acts 9 with Peter back in the center of things. He has traveled from Jerusalem out to the coastal city of Joppa to proclaim the Gospel to the Jews there. Well, as we’re tracking along with Luke we kind of expect to keep hearing about how the Gospel continues to advance along mostly the same lines it has been following. Suddenly, though, Luke takes us somewhere new and, frankly, unexpected. At the beginning of chapter 10 Luke shifts his focus to the city of Caesarea, the Roman capital and seat of paganism for the region, and focuses in on a Roman centurion named Cornelius, a man we would naturally expect to be an enemy of the church. If Luke’s original audiences had included any Jews—and they probably did—they would have reached this part of the story and immediately thought: why on earth are you talking about this Gentile guy? His being not a Jew, he would be one of the last people in the world fit to receive the Gospel message. And yet listen to Luke’s description in 10:2: Cornelius “was a devout man and feared God along with his whole household. He did many charitable deeds for the Jewish people and always prayed to God.” He hadn’t gone all the way and become fully a Jew because it wouldn’t have looked so good with his superiors, but he was apparently very much dedicated to their God. Because of this, he receives a vision from God. Look at this in v. 3: “About three in the afternoon [which would have been the regular time of prayer for faithful Jews as we learned a few weeks ago] he distinctly saw in a vision an angel of God who came in and said to him, ‘Cornelius.’ Staring at him in awe, he said, ‘What is it, Lord?’ The angel told him, ‘Your prayers and your acts of charity have ascended as a memorial offering before God. Now send men to Joppa and call for Simon, who is also named Peter. He is lodging with Simon, a tanner, whose house is by the sea.’” Cornelius immediately obeys and sends men to find Peter.
At this point, Luke takes us back to Peter. When we arrive back in Joppa it is lunchtime. While Peter waits for lunch to be fixed he goes up on the roof deck to pray. While he is praying he has this vision of a sheet coming down from the sky loaded up with a variety of animals. Listen to how this goes down starting in v. 13: “A voice said to him,’ Get up, Peter; kill and eat.’” His first thought had to be: “I guess I was a lot hungrier than I thought. I’m hallucinating and my stomach is talking to me.” His second thought was a bit more holy: “This must be God testing me since I’m not supposed to eat those animals; none of them are kosher.” Stay with me in the text: “‘No, Lord!’ Peter said. ‘For I have never eaten anything impure and ritually unclean.’” In other words, “Lord, I’m a good Jew. I’m not supposed to eat that stuff. Why I’ve never eaten that stuff. So did I pass the test?” From the response, it would appear he didn’t: “Again, a second time, the voice said to him, ‘What God has made clean, do not call impure.’ This happened three times, and suddenly the object was taken up into heaven,” leaving Peter with a rumbling tummy, a wish that he had gone ahead and eaten lunch before coming up there, and a great deal of confusion as to what it meant. While he’s working on making sense out of this, God speaks more directly: “Three men are here looking for you. Get up, go downstairs, and go with them with no doubts at all, because I have sent them.”
The men from Cornelius come and Peter and some companions with him travel with them back to Caesarea. No doubt Peter wonders the whole time where they are going and why. When they arrive and Peter is escorted into a room packed full of Gentiles, Cornelius stands up from among them, walks over to Peter, and drops to his feet in worship. Peter and his friends are by this time about to burst with curiosity. When Cornelius drops to the ground in worship of him, Peter finally hits his limit. From v. 26: “But Peter lifted him up and said, ‘Stand up. I myself am also a man.’ While talking with him, he went in and found a large gathering of people. Peter said to them, ‘You know it’s forbidden for a Jewish man to associate with or visit a foreigner [in other words, I didn’t come here willingly…which is kind of hilarious if you think about it because why would you say that to someone?], but God has shown me that I must not call any person impure or unclean. That’s why I came without any objection when I was sent for. So may I ask why you sent for me?”
Cornelius goes on to tell him what had happened from his end. He finishes by saying in v. 33: “So now we are all in the presence of God to hear everything you have been commanded by the Lord.” In other words, “You’re asking me what’s going on? All I know is that I was told by an angel to send for you. You tell me what’s going on.” Well, as Cornelius is describing all this, a light begins to dawn in Peter’s mind. His neatly processed and cataloged worldview begins to unravel and a totally new idea moves in to set up shop. When he next speaks in v. 34 it sounds like he’s talking to Cornelius and crew, but I think he’s really just processing out loud what was swirling around in his head. “Peter began to speak: “Now I truly understand that God doesn’t show favoritism, but in every nation the person who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.”
In other words, Peter had been going on this whole time under the assumption that the Jesus movement was a Jewish movement. Indeed, to this point it was. This was all just a Jewish thing and Jesus was still going to come back, smash all the Gentiles (that is, non-Jews) to pieces, and establish His physical kingdom as the throne of David. Sure, some Samaritans had joined up along the way, and while they definitely weren’t considered Jews, neither were they considered Gentiles. But, in the face of this overwhelming evidence that God had clearly spoken to this Gentile—and not a run of the mill Gentile either, but one with some power and influence—the lesson Jesus had spent so much time trying to teach finally sunk in. God really doesn’t care whether a person is a Jew or not. In fact, He doesn’t care what a person’s cultural identity markers are at all. If people really seek Him, He’ll accept them. Period.
Friends, this was a game changer. For their entire lives every member of the church at this point in history had been taught that people like Cornelius were the enemy. I mean, Cornelius wasn’t such a bad enemy as far as enemies go. By most local accounts, he was actually a good man. But he wasn’t a Jew and so therefore was still an enemy. Now, though, Peter has been forcefully confronted with the fact that no, God actually doesn’t care about that at all. He never did. He just wants people to come to Him regardless of who they are. If they come, He receives them.
Then, as irrefutable evidence of this, as Peter preaches the Gospel to the group the Holy Spirit comes upon them and they all start speaking in tongues exactly as the original 120 had done. Look at v. 44: “While Peter was still speaking these words, the Holy Spirit came down on all those who heard the message. The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were amazed because the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles. For they heard them speaking in tongues and declaring the greatness of God.”
God didn’t even bother to let Peter finish his sermon. He was so excited to get this next major phase of Kingdom expansion started, that He didn’t even let Peter get to his invitation before showing up in power. Peter really couldn’t argue anymore that this group was not as fully a part of the Jesus movement as he was so he baptized the lot. This was great…right?
Well, it was great at least until Peter got back to Jerusalem. There were some Jesus followers in the church there who were even more hung up on the whole you-have-to-become-a-Jew-and-keep-the-law-before-you-can- follow-Jesus thing than Peter had been. When Peter got before them they all looked at him flatly and simply said in 11:3: “You went to uncircumcised men and ate with them.” This was one of those statements that’s really an accusation. What they really meant was, “Petros, you’ve got some explaining to do.” It was like his parents had sat him down and asked: “What do you have to say for yourself, young man?” Peter was no doubt expecting this reception—had John been the one to go to Caesarea, Peter probably would have been first in line for an explanation—and so he patiently recounted everything that had happened. When he finished there was really no way they could argue with him. Luke writes in v. 18 that “when they heard this they became silent.” The realization gradually dawned on them just as it had on Peter. When it did, “they glorified God, saying, ‘So then, God has given repentance resulting in life even to the Gentiles.’”
And this feels like it should be the end of the story, but we’re not quite there. Luke makes another setting jump with us at v. 19. Remember all the Jesus followers who had gotten driven out of Jerusalem after Stephen’s death? Some of them went as far away as Phoenicia, Cyprus, and Antioch. Now, most of them went “speaking the word to no one except Jews.” And this fits perfectly with what they knew. As we said just a second ago, this was a Jewish movement for Jewish people. For Jesus followers coming out of Jerusalem—which was a hyper-Jewish context—this made perfect sense. It fit with how they saw the world. But there were some other disciples who were from places like Cyprus out in the Mediterranean and Cyrene which is not all that far from modern day Benghazi in Libya. These were entirely more Gentile contexts. They were used to rubbing elbows with Gentiles on a regular basis. They probably had friends who were Gentiles; possibly even family. They didn’t really see any reasons why these folks weren’t just as deserving of hearing the incredible message of Jesus as the Jews were. And so, when they came to Antioch, they started preaching to the Gentiles. And the effects mirrored those of Cornelius’ household. When given the chance to hear it, these outsiders, these people who were nothing like Jesus, loved His message. They loved hearing the stories about Him. They were floored by the reports of His resurrection and based on this powerful truth they gave their lives to Him. Luke tells us in 4:21 that “the Lord’s hand was with them, and a large number who believed turned to the Lord.”
Eventually the Jerusalem church heard about all of this. They sent Barnabas up to investigate. He got there and did what Barnabas always did everywhere he went. He started encouraging all the new believers. He even went and retrieved Saul from Tarsus to help him with the work. Saul had gone back home for a few years to let the dust from his explosive conversion settle a bit, and to keep studying the Scriptures so he was prepared when God called him back into action—a call to action that came now through Barnabas. The pair stayed in Antioch for a whole year during which time “they met with the church and taught large numbers.” Luke ends this part of the story with a foreshadowing note that actually gets a great deal more fleshed out in some of Paul’s letters. But there’s a little sentence tucked in at the end of v. 26 that I think is the real point of the story. It’s almost an afterthought. After describing the ministry of Saul and Barnabas in Antioch Luke adds this: “The disciples were first called Christians in Antioch.”
If you have ever wondered where our name came from; this is where it came from. It came from Antioch. And notice that Luke doesn’t say the disciples called themselves Christians. No, they were called Christians. This means someone else gave them this title. The word literally means “little Christ.” In other words, “You guys are acting just like this Jesus you keep describing. You’re little Jesuses.” But here’s the thing: this wasn’t a compliment. They didn’t mean, “Hey, we like this Jesus guy and you guys remind us of Him. Good work.” They meant it more like, “Hey, this Jesus guy was a coward and a freak and a disturber of the peace. You fools are just like him. We wish you would be better citizens—more like the Emperor and less like Jesus—so you don’t blow things for the rest of us.” This puts a new perspective on the whole thing, doesn’t it? Now, the disciples eventually claimed the title because it fit, but nobody outside the church considered the title “Christian” to be a compliment.
I think there are a couple more important things to take from all of this. First, by giving the believers this new title, the people of Antioch were recognizing that this wasn’t just a Jewish movement any longer. It was something more than that. Remember: the vast majority who were believers at this point were Jews and they both still considered themselves Jews and the Jesus movement to be a Jewish movement. After all, Jesus was a Jewish rabbi. Of course His movement was a Jewish movement. When Peter was standing in Cornelius’ house nearly the first thing he said was that it was not lawful for him to even been in that house. According to what law? Jewish law. Peter identified himself as a Jew. But these critics in Antioch—perhaps some of them Jewish—understood that this was simply not the case.
Yet—and here’s the second important thing here—how did they come to understand this? I mean, yes, the believers kept talking about the resurrection, but the theology of the movement was still developing so it doesn’t seem very likely that they did a detailed theological analysis and saw too many divergent points for the kinship claims to be accurate. With a few exceptions, the believers basically acted like all the other Jews too so that wasn’t really a feature pointing in the direction of a distinct movement. What was it that made them stand out? Well, what has Luke just spent the last two chapters telling us about? The conversion of Gentiles. The Jesus movement started welcoming people who weren’t Jewish. They didn’t fit the mold. They reached out to and included people who were nothing like them, and by every reasonable cultural measure at the time should have been excluded. This was how group movements back then worked: you molded yourself to become more like the group and then you were accepted. That’s still how group movements work. These Jesus followers, though, they accepted everybody first and then started molding. They were inclusive before being inclusive was cool. This set them utterly apart from every other group on the market on that day. It still sets the church apart when we get it right. Because of this, they defied contemporary cultural identity markers. So, they had to be given a new one: Christian. Little Christs. What we see is that being a Christian is all about being like Christ. But you already knew that. What you did not perhaps know is that the specific being-like-Christ that first drew the title was their being an inclusive group. “Christian,” it seems, is an inclusive identity. “Christian” is an inclusive identity.
Now, most of us hear this and think, “So Peter preached to Cornelius and Gentiles started receiving the Gospel message. That’s great, but was it that big a deal?” Yes, it was. We think: the Jews didn’t like the Gentiles. This doesn’t cover it. The Jews had almost 2,000 years of hearing that the Gentiles were evil, unchosen by God, and that they should be nothing like them. They had it driven into their heads over and over that the reason they had lost their sovereignty as a nation in the first place was that their ancestors had become too much like the Gentiles. Again, it was against the law for a Jew to even be in the same house as a Gentile. It made you ceremonially unclean. You could not get to God if you got too close to “those people.” The mental hurdle that had to be overcome in order for these Jewish Jesus followers to even start thinking they could be followers of Jesus together with Gentiles, viewed by God in the exact same way, was like Mt. Everest to an ant. There’s a reason that for a full generation there was a group of professed Jesus followers who went around after Paul on his missionary journeys in order to let the new believers know that in order to really get in on the life of Jesus they had to first become Jews. This idea that God didn’t want to save just the Jews but actually wanted to save Gentiles too was so totally new that they really struggled to wrap their minds around it. But once they did and started to live out its implications, they gained a new identity, an inclusive identity. Indeed, “Christian” is an inclusive identity.
So what does this mean for us? I mean, we know that Jesus died for everybody. God’s grace covers every sin no matter who’s committed it. This idea is the water to our fish. But is it really? Who do we have trouble accepting? Are there people we look at and think: “Oh they’ll never come around. I don’t need to waste my time with them”? I would suggest that there are. It may not be the same for every person, but we all have those folks somewhere in our hearts and minds. For some of you it might be about the particular political perspective of the other person. You genuinely can’t imagine how a Republican—or a Democrat—could possibly be a real follower of Jesus. Yet “Christian” is an inclusive identity. Neither party gets everything right, and there are committed followers of Jesus populating both of them. Maybe it has something to do with their life situation. Addicts will always be addicts, and while we want them to get help, we don’t want them here until they get it. “Christian,” though, is an inclusive identity. I finally watched The Jesus Revolution the other day. That movement exploded because of the willingness of a handful of folks to love a bunch of dirty, drug addicts. It could be that for some of you, you still struggle with the thought of worshiping alongside some whose skin color isn’t the same as yours. Perhaps it’s the LGBT spectrum or wokeism generally that you can’t handle.
Who else might be your “Gentile”? Another race? A particular socioeconomic class of people? A certain group of sinners? Folks of a certain cultural persuasion? Who is it? Standing in the way of this whole mode of thinking is the fact that “Christian” is an inclusive identity. Peter said it rightly: God doesn’t play favorites and He gladly accepts anyone who earnestly seeks Him. Do we? “Christian” is an inclusive identity. It was earned because the early Jesus followers made the radical move of reaching out to and building a community that gladly welcomed people who were nothing like them…kind of like Jesus did. With the exception of the resurrection this was the first thing that really and truly set them apart from every other movement at the time. “Christian” is an inclusive identity.
Let’s be really honest for a minute and then we’re out of here. There were many in the first century church who had a mold in mind for the movement. If you didn’t fit the mold, you couldn’t be in the movement. Period. For them, this meant becoming a Jew. Become a Jew first, then you can call yourself a Jesus follower. Let me challenge us just a bit: It is remarkably easy for any church to fall into having a mold. Of course anyone can come once or twice, but until you’re more like us, you’re not really getting accepted. Now, this isn’t formed purposefully. It happens over time. People tend to gather in groups with other people like them. That’s natural. Almost every church across the country has a mold. But, “Christian” is an inclusive identity, and molds are by nature exclusive. My question for us is this: What’s our mold? Do we need to change it at all? Could we follow the lead of the early church in this? What would that look like? What would it feel like? “Christian” is an inclusive identity. How could we embrace that more fully? What if we became known in the community as “that place where everybody is welcome”? Both Jesus and the early church loved people who were nothing like them and people who were nothing like them loved being with Jesus and the early church. Friends, “Christian” is an inclusive identity. Let’s be who we claim.