In the name of God, in whose love we live,
and move, and exist. Amen.
What
is the story that you live your life by? You know, what’s the story that you
tell yourself to get through the daily grind, to make yourself get out of bed
in the morning, to motivate yourself to do things that you don’t really want to
do, to find hope in this pandemic? In a great book called Seculosity that I’ve mentioned before, the author says that
religion is shorthand for whatever that story is. Religion is the thing that
focuses our desires, ranks our priorities, and determines what we say “yes” and
“no” to. And any story that you live by is a religion in this sense. So it’s
not a question of which box do you check off for “religious affiliation,” it’s
a question of your guiding principles and which gods you worship.
I
use that phrase intentionally – which gods do you worship. In the landscape of
the Bible, everyone knows that there are many gods out there. We mistake the
faith of the Bible when we think that monotheism is about believing that there
is only one god. It’s not that Israel only believes in one God, rather Israel
only worships one God. The problem is language – we use a generic noun, “god,”
as the proper name for the object of faith. A god is anything that is at the center
of our motivating story. Money is a god. Fame is a god. The Democratic,
Republican, and Libertarian platforms are gods. Technology is a god. Patriotism
is a god. Retaliation is a god. Reputation is a god. Appearances are a god. The
economy is a god. Career is a god. Family is a god. There are gods all around
us, and if we ignore that reality, we will end up sheepishly handing our lives
over to them. But when we use the capital G version of “God” we’re talking
about something altogether different.
The God that we
worship and talk about is not just a stronger, wiser, better version of what we
can imagine. No, God is reality itself, God is truer even than we are. Some
theologians put it as – the question is not whether or not God exists, but
whether or not we exist in light of God’s all-surpassing grandeur. God stands
above our deepest thoughts, feelings, and desires. When we talk about God we
are talking about that which is beyond knowledge, the source and conclusion of
all that is. And so the question is how does this God that has been revealed as
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit fits into that story we tell ourselves. To be
clear, the only true story is that of the Triune God, but we can live with lies
instead of truth. So the question of faith is – how do all of those lesser gods
lead us deeper into a relationship with the Triune God and how do they drive us
to idolatry?
This
is the backdrop for the reading we heard this morning from Acts where Paul is
speaking about the Triune God in the midst of shrines to all sorts of other
gods. Paul was traveling around the Mediterranean world to visit and establish
churches. He arrives in Athens and is waiting for Timothy and Silas to join him
before continuing to their next stop. And while Paul is there, he gets to know the
city. Luke, the author of Acts, notes that Paul is deeply distressed to see the
city so full of statues to various gods. Paul argues with the Jews living in
that city, chiding them for tolerating such the idolatry and he debated with Epicurean
and Stoic philosophers. Epicureans tended to say that gods that have a sense of
will and being, like Zeus, Apollo, or Athena, but are happily unconcerned with
the affairs of humanity. If there is a god, they’d say, there’s no point in
having a relationship with it any more than there is a benefit to having a
friendship with a chair. And Stoics tended to see God as your inner essence,
meaning that god is highly subjective and individualized. Paul, obviously,
would have much to debate on these points. The God that we have come to know in
Jesus is very much concerned about us and is not subject to our interpretation;
God is who God is.
But
these differences gave them something to do. Luke records a few verses before
today’s reading began that they took Paul to the Areopagus, a public square of
sorts, because “Now all the Athenians and the foreigners living there would
spend their time in nothing but telling or hearing something new.” In other
words, the Areopagus was the ancient version of cable news and social media – a
vapid place of posturing and wasting time; and I say this as someone who spends
too much time scrolling. But Paul goes there because Jesus has told his
followers to go into all the world to preach the Gospel. And all the world
includes the Areopagus, even if he only went there to be a spectacle for these
new and interesting ideas he was sharing.
What
Paul does when he gets there is of interest though. He doesn’t burst onto the
scene and say “You’re going to hell, all of you. Worshiping idols and praying
to false gods? You are sinners!” Quite the contrary, Paul comes and speaks a
word of grace to them. He says, “I see how extremely religious you are.” Now,
what he meant was “I see how idolatrous and confused you people are.” But that’s
not what he says. A reminder that sometimes a little “bless your heart” goes a
long way. This shows us how an encounter with God changed Paul. You’ll recall
that in last Sunday’s reading, Paul was overseeing the murder of Stephen. He
had people killed for less than what he’s seeing in the Areopagus. He turns not
to rage or judgment, but mercy because the grace of God has been made known to
him in Jesus Christ.
So
he validates the yearnings of those Athenians to be connected to the
transcendent and to have meaning in their lives. He then notices that they have
an altar to an unknown god – you know, to cover all the bases that way they
couldn’t be accused of leaving out a particular god. Because Paul has been
observant, he grasps the opening the Spirit has given to him. He says, “I know
who that unknown God is.” The thing is, if you trusted that all of your gods
were sufficient, you wouldn’t have a shrine to an unknown god. Paul proceeds to
tell them about the Lord who made
all things, who rules over the earth and the realms beyond it. And this God
doesn’t need shrines. In fact, this God is completely self-sufficient because
he is the source of space, time, and all of Creation.
And
then, refuting those Epicureans and Stoics, Paul says that this God is not far
from us. Though this God is high above all things, this God is also intimately
knowable. In fact, in him, we live, and move, and have our being. In all that
we do, we are never alone, for this God is with us. That’s something all of
those other religions and gods can’t claim. The economy won’t save us. A big
bank account doesn’t prevent you from getting cancer. As this pandemic has
shown us, living in the United States doesn’t mean that a virus can’t disrupt our
lives. A successful career doesn’t mean we won’t struggle with depression or
addiction. Those stories that we tell ourselves about our lives can’t deliver
on their promises. There is only one God in whom we truly live, and move, and have
our being. And that is the God we have met in Jesus Christ.
The
response that Paul suggests is, as he puts it, that God “commands all people
everywhere to repent.” As I’ve said in many sermons before, repentance isn’t
about saying “sorry,” though that might be a part of it. Repentance means changing
your mind, or having a change of heart, or to put a different story at the
center of your life. The other stories that we live our lives by are as
effective as those statues that Paul saw in Athens which are now nothing but
rubble and dust. But the God that Paul is talking about is the God in whom we
live, and move, and have our being. This God has been made known to us in Jesus
and so his peace becomes our peace. His meaning and purpose become ours. His
grace is given to us and reorders our priorities, our relationships, our
narratives.
Paul
concludes by noting that this God has given us assurance of all these things by
raising Jesus from the dead. This God’s power extends even beyond what is
possible and plausible. What animates all of this is what Jesus tells us in
John – that love is at the core of his story. And that means love is at the
core of our story as well. Can you imagine what a world this would be if every
person knew that that are deeply loved by the God of all Creation? If every
person recognized that belovedness in stranger and neighbor, in enemy and
friend? If the law that we first obeyed was the law of love? If the only thing we
pledged our allegiance to is the greatest commandment that this God gave us in
Jesus – You shall love the Lord
your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind;
and you shall love your neighbor as yourself? What if that abundant and eternal
love of God shown to us in Jesus Christ was the story that we trusted in more than
all of those other gods we’ve made for ourselves?
Thanks
be to God, we don’t have to wonder because of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ
from the dead. To be clear, the Crucifixion and Resurrection defeated Sin and
Death, they did not vanquish them forever. We aren’t going to be perfect in
loving ourselves or one another. But because of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ
from the dead, love is an option for us. It was love that led God to create all
that is. It was love that led Jesus to humbly come among us and die the death
of a criminal. It was love that raised Jesus from the dead. It was out of love
that the Holy Spirit was given to dwell within us. It is this love that we
remember and receive in the Sacraments. We were made from love. We are created
to love. We are destined for love. So though we might not be perfect at loving,
God has made love the true story of all life. So we can be bold in loving and
rest in God’s mercy when we fall short. And in receiving and flourishing in
this love, we find the peace that passes all understanding, the strength to
meet the days ahead, and the hope that all shall be well. The love of God is
our story in which we live, and move, and have our being. And not only is this a
great story, but it’s a true story.
