“Miracle of Love” (Acts 14:8-20)

My Grandfather
My grandfather has always been my hero. He was a North Korean defector. To save his life, he had to swim across a river to the South right before the Korean War broke out. Living there alone, struggling with hardship, he once considered ending his life. But one day, a friend invited him to church. There he met Christ, and his life was forever changed. Later, he was called to ministry.

Throughout his lifetime as a Methodist pastor, he was appointed to several different churches. Wherever he served, the church came alive and revived. In his journal, he recorded in detail the surprising work of God at his last appointment, where he served for 27 years. He wrote,

“During those 27 years, 13 people were set free from unclean spirits in the name of Jesus and became faithful Christians and leaders, 4 paralyzed people were healed. 7 people (5 children and 2 adults) were raised from the dead. Quite a few people suffering from cancer were healed in Jesus’ name.”

Since he was my pastor when I was young, I personally witnessed some of these stories.

But for me, an even greater miracle than those healings was the miracle of love. In that church, there were chronically difficult people who bullied my grandfather and our family. Yet he never fought back. Instead, he continued to shepherd them, love them, forgive them. He stayed in touch with them and stayed the course. Many people, including myself, saw how he had responded and were drawn to Christ and his church.

Paul in Lystra
In today’s scripture, we see two miracles. While Paul and Barnabas were in Lystra, there was a man crippled from birth. Paul saw that this man had faith to be healed. So he watched him closely and said, “Stand up straight on your feet!” Then the man jumped up and began to walk! Everyone was amazed. They thought the gods had come down in human form. So they wanted to offer sacrifices. When Paul and Barnabas heard this, they tore their clothes and rushed into the crowd, barely able to stop them.

Now comes the second miracle – the greater one. Some Jews came from Antioch and Iconium, the previous cities that Paul had preached, turned the crowd against Paul. So they stoned him and dragged him out of town, thinking he was dead. But as the believers gathered around him, he got up and went back into the city. The next day, he and Barnabas left for next town, Derbe, to preach the good news. There they made many disciples. But then, Paul chose to return to Lystra, the very place where he had been stoned, to strengthen and encourage other believers. Many who saw Paul’s response to suffering and persecution were drawn to Christ. I would call that the miracle of love.

The Sermon on the Mount
In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus compares two kinds of people – not moral versus immoral, but religious versus Christian. On the outside, both do the same things. They give, they pray, they fast. But on the inside, they are different. The religious person does all these things to be seen, to feel good, to make much of themselves. But the true Christian gives, prays, and fasts out of love and gratitude to Christ.

Jesus’ moral standard is far higher than any other religious law. He said, “You heard, ‘An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.’ But I say to you: If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also.” “You heard, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you: love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”

How can we do that? The answer is in the Beatitudes. Christ, the Messiah, meaning the “Blessed One,” became the cursed one, so that we might be blessed. Deuteronomy 21:23 says, “Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree.” Christ became a curse for us to set us free from the power of sin and death” (cf. Gal 3:13) Jesus became poor so that we could inherit the kingdom of God. Jesus became hungry and thirsty, so that we could be filled. Jesus was humiliated and persecuted, so that we might have his righteousness and his kingdom. Jesus did it for us. When we receive Christ, trust him, and place him at the center of our life, our hearts are changed. We receive “inner” righteousness.

Paul had always been religious. He obeyed all the laws – tithing, giving, praying, fasting, everything. He even persecuted Christians, thinking he was doing it for God. But inside, he was proud, insecure, hateful, judgmental. Only after he encountered the risen Christ, Paul became a new person – his inside and outside became one. And now, even after being stoned, he returned to that same city. He forgave, he loved, and he preached the good news of peace.

The Rabbi’s Gift
There was once a monastery that had fallen on hard times. Only five elderly monks remained. Once vibrant, it now stood silent and tired. In the woods nearby lived a wise Rabbi. One day, the Abbott went to visit him, seeking advice. The Rabbi welcomed him warmly, but after listening, sighed, “I know… The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town.” The two old men wept together, read from the Scriptures, and sat in silence. As the Abbott rose to leave, the Rabbi said quietly, “I have no advice, except this: the Messiah is one of you.”

The Abbott returned, confused. “He gave no advice,” he said his brothers, “except that the Messiah is one of us.” The brothers began to wonder: could he mean the Abbott, our leader? Or Brother Thomas, so full of light? Or Brother Elred, grumpy but wise? Or Brother Philip, so quite yet always shows up when needed? Or… could it be me? From that day on, each monk began to treat the others with deep respect, just in case one of them was the Messiah. And they began to treat themselves with care, just in case it was themselves.

Something beautiful happened. Visitors began to sense the love and light that filled the place. They felt peace there. Some stayed. Others returned. Soon, the monastery came alive again, all because of the Rabbi’s gift: the miracle of love.[1]

Foretaste
I believe the most powerful force for church renewal and revival is love – agape love, Christ’s love.

Isaiah, by the Holy Spirit, prophesied God’s peaceful kingdom this way:

In that day the wolf and the lamb will live together; the leopard will lie down with the baby goat. The calf and the yearling will be safe with the lion, and a little child will lead them all. The cow will graze near the bear. The cub and the calf will lie down together. The lion will eat hay like a cow. The baby will play safely near the hole of a cobra. Yes, a little child will put its hand in a nest of deadly snakes without harm. (Isaiah 11:6-8, NLT)

God’s design for the church is to foretaste this peaceful kingdom here and now. Wherever and whoever acknowledges the lordship of Jesus Christ can experience this miracle of love. Jews and Palestinians can live together. Children of Ukraine and Russia can play together. Democrats and Republicans can work together – under the lordship of Jesus Christ. May the Lord fill our hearts and our church with renewed agape love. May the miracle of love begin with you and me. Amen.

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[1] M. Scott Peck, The Different Drum: Community Making and Peace (Touchstone, 1998), 13-15.

“John Mark: His Unexpected Journey” (Acts 13:1-5, 13)

Backsliding
Perhaps you have heard of the film title God Is Not Dead. It comes from a Newsboys album. The band sang with energy. They filled arenas. Their music inspired millions. But then the news came. Michael Tait, the frontman, confessed. He admitted to abusing drugs and alcohol. He admitted to touching men in ways that were not wanted. Multiple men came forward. They told their stories of being sexually assaulted on tour. Tait admitted that most of it was true. He had been living a double life. The Christian world was shocked. K-Love radio, the largest Christian station, stopped playing their music. The band members, families, and fans felt betrayed. Many asked, “How could this happen?”[1]

Friends, this is not just about one singer. This is about us. Because backsliding is real. Even after an excellent start, we can stumble. We can fail. We can lose our way. This reminds me of John Mark. He had such a promising start. His mother’s home was the upper room where 120 believers gathered, prayed, and received the Holy Spirit on the Day of Pentecost. He joined Paul and Barnabas on their first missionary journey as their capable and trustworthy assistant. But then… his journey took an unexpected turn. He deserted them. He went back to Jerusalem. Failure. Disappointment. Pain. And yet, that was not the end of his story. God can use even our failures as a means of grace.

Disappointment
In his book Where Is God When It Hurts, Philip Yancey tells the story of Dr. Paul Brand’s leprosy patients, who could not feel pain in their hands or feet. At first it might sound like a blessing, but in reality, it was their greatest danger, because without pain they burned themselves, injured themselves, and wore down their bodies without knowing it. Pain, Yancey reminds us, is not a curse but can be a gift, a messenger that humbles us and slows us down – slow enough to see, hear, and pay attention to God.

I think of my own story. Several years ago, I lost my sense of smell. Sometimes my children tease me and say, “Dad, you are lucky, because you don’t have to smell bad odors.” But my response is always the same: “Even for a moment, I would gladly smell everything, even the bad ones.” I consider myself living with disability. Since I don’t smell, it keeps me humble, knowing that I need to reply on others, and it also makes me more sensitive to those who have disabilities. In the same way, disappointment, pain, and suffering, though we wish them away, can become a means of grace – the very bridge that connects us to encounter the crucified Christ deeply and personally.

John Mark was at the bottom. Perhaps he couldn’t come out of the great pit, struggling forgiving himself. But there was one person who still believed in him and invested in him – Barnabas, the son of encouragement. Even after John Mark’s backsliding, Barnabas wanted to give him a second chance, including him in a second missionary journey. Paul opposed Barnaba’s suggestion. He insisted that they shouldn’t take John Mark along. Their argument became so intense that they went separate ways. Paul took a new helper, Silas, while Barnabas took John Mark (Acts 15:39).

Pieta
Barnabas reminds us of the better and perfect Encourager, Jesus Christ our Lord. Our merciful Redeemer comes to us, especially when we are in the pit of deep sorrow and confusion.

The Pieta (meaning “pity” or “compassion”) is a picture or sculpture of the Virgin Mary holding the dead body of Jesus on her lap. The Rondanini Pieta is the unfinished sculpture Michelangelo was working on until his death. Unlike his other masterpieces, it’s rough and unbalanced. Mary is holding Jesus from behind in great sadness. But if we look closely, it also looks as if the crucified Jesus is carrying her on his back, upholding and raising her up. The Bible says, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been temped in every way, just as we are – yet was without sin.” (Hebrews 4:15) And because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help us when we are being tempted. (cf. 2:18) Jesus didn’t have to, but he went down into the greatest Pit, tasted death, became our sin, our sorrow, our failure, so that we could be set free from the pit of destruction and become his righteousness, his joy, his life. Jesus is able. Jesus makes us not just a better person, but a new person – no matter where we are in our journey.

Rembrandt’s Journey
The artist Rembrandt’s journey resembles John Mark’s. He painted himself more than almost any other artists—nearly ninety self-portraits over his lifetime. In his youth, he painted with bold colors and proud gestures. He showed himself confident, eloquent, even glamorous, wrapped in fine clothes and wealth. But life changed. He lost his beloved wife, Saskia. He buried three of his four children. He watched his only surviving son, Titus, die young. His fame faded. His fortune was gone, his house repossessed, his name forgotten. He walked through the wilderness of grief, disappointment, and debt.

Yet in the midst of the pit, Rembrandt encountered Christ. Something deeper was happening. In those later self-portraits, you no longer see a proud young man in shining robes. You see an old, weathered face, painted with honesty and humility. The brushstrokes are simple, almost prayerful. And in his final years, Rembrandt placed his own face into the figure of Simeon, the old man in the temple who held the Christ child. Simeon’s eyes, full of age and sorrow, are also full of peace as he cried out, “My eyes have seen Your salvation!” (Luke 2:30). That was Rembrandt’s own confession. He had an excellent start, then layer upon layer of loss and drifting away, and finally returned home as a man who met Christ and was satisfied in him.

Cactus Cross 

Recently, Joyce gave me a cactus cross as a gift. In the desert, the cactus survives with thorns. The thorns guard its water, its very life. But when the cactus dies and dries, the thorns fall away. What is left behind can be shaped into something new. In the desert Southwest, people take that dry cactus wood and form it into a cross. Out of what was dry and dead, something life-giving is created.

Now think about John Mark. He started his journey with fire and excitement. He was included on Paul and Barnabas’s mission. But when the road grew hard, he left. Maybe fear, maybe weakness, maybe pain, we don’t know. But we do know this: he failed. He backslid. Paul was disappointed. Barnabas was heartbroken. And John Mark was left with the sting of regret and shame.

Was that the end of his story? No. Like a cactus, what once seemed dry and wasted was taken by the hand of Christ, the Great Encourager and Redeemer. And he was reshaped. John Mark was faithful in his second missionary journey and soon regained Paul’s respect. Later in life, Paul himself would say, “Bring Mark, for he is useful to me.” He also worked with the apostle Peter. And he became the writer of the Gospel that bears his name, a Gospel of the Suffering Servant, who redeems failure, who restores the fallen, who creates something beautiful out of the ashes.

Disappointment, failure, wilderness, pain, loss—these are not curses. They are the very bridges where we encounter the living Christ. Where a dry cactus is made into a cross. Where a failed disciple becomes a Gospel witness. May the Lord redeem our life and make something beautiful. Our crucified Christ is able. Amen.

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[1] “Michael Tait Confesses Abuse,” Christianity Today (Sep/Oct), 120.