“The Martyr Mindset: from Stephen to Mr. Rogers” (Acts 6:8–7:60)

 

Martyr

Martyr means witness. In the early church, to witness for Christ often meant to die for Christ. Stephen was the first. His story in Acts 6 and 7 shows us what this witness looks like.

Stephen was one of the seven chosen to serve in mercy ministry and lead the congregation (Acts 6:5). He was a man of faith and grace, doing wonderful things among the people. But some men rose up against him, trying to argue him down. They were no match for his wisdom and spirit when he spoke. So they stirred up the crowd, seized Stephen, and brought him before the Council. There he boldly witnessed for Christ—and was stoned to death.

Most of us in America today will probably never be killed for our faith. So how do we read Stephen’s story and apply it to our lives? What does it look like to live with a martyr mindset? Recently, I was reading about Fred Rogers. Though Mr. Rogers was not a martyr in death, I saw a surprising parallel between Stephen and him. Both shared qualities of the martyr mindset.

 

Empathy

First, they shared deep empathy born of suffering. Through their empathy, they bore witness to Christ. Stephen was full of grace and compassion. He was chosen to care for widows and the poor. When confronted by the religious leaders, his face shone like an angel’s (6:15). As he began his defense, he addressed his persecutors tenderly as “brothers and fathers” (7:2). As stones rained down on him, he prayed, “Lord, forgive them!” (7:60). If we summed up his ministry, his character, and his final prayer into one word, it would be “compassion”—empathy.

Fred Rogers also grew empathy through suffering. He grew up near Pittsburgh in Latrobe, Pennsylvania. Though his family was wealthy, his childhood was hard. His mother was overprotective. He was shy, painfully introverted, and often stuck at home with severe asthma. At school he was bullied, teased with the cruel nickname “Fat Freddy.”[1] Yet he was deeply loved by his parents and grandparents, helped by good neighbors, and strengthened by faith and music. Out of this suffering grew an extraordinary empathy. Later, Fred Rogers became that good neighbor for others. He taught children to look for helpers, to trust in kindness, to see the good in others.

 

Non-Anxious Presence

The second martyr mindset quality is a non-anxious presence. In front of his enemies, Stephen was calm and peaceful. They were threatening his life, but he was steady. How? By the power of the Spirit. Scripture describes him as “a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit” (6:5), “full of grace and power” (6:8), and “filled with the Holy Spirit” as he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God (7:55). By the Spirit, Stephen spoke truth in love, rebuking the leaders not with bitterness, but with courage and grace.

Mr. Rogers lived this same kind of presence. People may think his calm was just personality or performance, but those who knew him best saw its source in his spiritual life. He rose daily at 4:30 to pray and read the Bible. He disciplined his body, swimming a mile each morning. He maintained 143 pounds for the most of his adult life.  When conflicts arose, he met them without panic. Once, Burger King misused his image in an ad mocking McDonald’s. Instead of suing, Fred called the vice president himself, speaking with firmness and love. The ad was pulled immediately.[2] His calm presence was a Christ-like witness.

 

Self-Denial

The third quality is self-denial. Stephen’s goal was not to live long, but to live for Christ. His speech before the Council was not self-defense—it was testimony. “Jesus is the Messiah. Repent, turn to him, and listen to him.” Stephen was ready to die for Jesus. He fixed his eyes on Christ and the heavenly kingdom. As death came, he looked up and declared, “I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!” (7:56). Jesus promised, “Those who lose their life for my sake will find it” (Matt. 10:39).

Fred Rogers also lived this spirit of self-denial. When he founded Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood in 1971, he made it a nonprofit. Even when tax attorneys insisted his salary was too low, Fred and Joanne lived simply. They sold their home and moved into a modest apartment. He drove an old Honda, wore plain clothes, and never renovated their drafty Nantucket cottage. He turned down commercial offers and refused to market toys directly to children. While Sesame Street became a global empire, Fred Rogers chose self-denial. He gave up wealth, comfort, and recognition so children would not be treated as consumers[3]. He was not stoned in the street, but he died daily to self in order to serve others. That’s the martyr mindset—quiet, costly, faithful witness.

 

True and Better

Martyr means witness. Stephen’s death seemed like failure, yet it left a profound impact —especially on one man, Saul of Tarsus, who approved of his killing (8:1). Soon, Saul met the risen Christ and became Paul, one of the greatest witnesses for Jesus.

The calling of a martyr is to bring others closer to Christ through their empathy, their non-anxious presence, and their self-denial.

Jesus is the true and better Stephen, who, full of the Spirit, spoke truth in love, forgave his enemies, and laid down his life – not just for his people, but also for the whole world, drawing all people to himself through the cross.

“Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross” (Philippians 2:5-8, NRSV).

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus—the true and better Stephen—and live with the martyr mindset. This week, let us look for one way to practice the martyr mindset – whether forgiving an enemy, speaking truth gently, or choosing simplicity – for the sake of Christ. May our lives help others come to Christ’s heart through ours. Amen.

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[1] Maxwell King, The Good Neighbor: The Life and Work of Fred Rogers (p. 4). ABRAMS Press. Kindle Edition.

[2] Ibid., 291.

[3] Ibid., 10-11.

“Tree in the Rock” (Acts 6:1–7)

 

The Problem

“What do you do with a problem?”

Kobi Yamada, in his beautiful children’s book What Do You Do with a Problem?, tells the story of a boy who tries to hide from his problem. At first, he ignores it, wishing it would simply go away. But it doesn’t. In fact, it seems to grow bigger and bigger.

One day, the boy decides to stop running and turns to face the problem. That’s when he discovers something surprising: inside the problem was an opportunity—an opportunity to learn, to grow, to discover something new.

I love that insight. And I love children’s books. They may be written for young readers, but they often hold profound wisdom—like poetry, using few simple words to carry deep truth.

 

The Problem in the Early Church

In today’s scripture, the early church had a serious problem. At that time, the church was made up mainly of two groups: the Aramaic-speaking majority and the Greek-speaking minority. As the church grew, tensions emerged. One of these was about food distribution: the Greek-speaking widows were being neglected in the daily food service. And the Greek-speaking group began to “complain.”

The word translated “complained” (gongysmos) is a strong and unpleasant word. It is the same word used when some of the Israelites murmured and rebelled against Moses in the desert (Ex. 16:7; Num. 14:27). The problem was serious enough to threaten division in the church. But by God’s grace, when they faced and addressed the issue, they became more resilient and more Christlike.

 

Unbusy Christians

How did they grow? First, they learned to be “unbusy” Christians. In the Book of Acts, the devil attacks the church in many ways—first through persecution (by the Jewish religious authorities), then through corruption (Ananias and Sapphira), and now through the most subtle and clever attack—distraction. The enemy tried to make the apostles feel overwhelmed and pulled in every direction.

At the verge of burnout, the apostles discerned their top priority—their calling—and stayed focused on it. Negatively, they knew they were not called primarily to social administration. In verse 2 they said, “It is not right that we should neglect the word of God in order to wait on tables.” This was not to say that the ministry of the Word was more important than serving food; rather, it meant the apostles’ particular calling was different. In verse 4 they declare, “We will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.” They knew their limitations, set their priorities, and stuck to them.

Herman Melville, in Moby Dick, describes a moment of furious action: the whaleboat flying over the waves, chasing the great white whale. The crew strains at the oars, muscles tight, sweat pouring, voices shouting over the roar of the sea. And in the middle of all the chaos—one man sits still. The harpooner. He’s not rowing or shouting; he waits calmly, every muscle loose, until the precise moment to stand and throw. Melville writes, “To insure the greatest efficiency in the dart, the harpooners of this world must start to their feet out of idleness, and not out of toil.”

Like harpooners, the apostles knew their role. They stayed ready for the task God had given them. Friends, when problems come, not all of us will have the same role to play—but we all must be focused and poised for the moment God calls us to act. This is why we pray,

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.

 

Unnecessary Christians

The early Christians were not only unbusy; they were, in a sense, “unnecessary” Christians. The apostles didn’t try to do everything themselves. They empowered others to serve and lead according to their gifts. In verse 3, they said, “Therefore, friends, select from among yourselves seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we may appoint to this task.”

This reminds me of a friend who had an unusual call to ministry—not in church, not at a revival meeting, but while reading… a comic book.

The story was about a 911 rescue hero—an ordinary person living an ordinary life until disaster struck. In that moment, his unique gifts surfaced. He could help. He could serve. He could rescue. But here’s the irony: he was only “useful” when problems arose. If he fixed every problem permanently, he would no longer be needed. And yet, he chose to keep stepping into broken places—again and again—because that was his calling. While reading this, my friend realized that pastor’s calling is much the same: to step into brokenness, to face problems, to help people encounter God personally, and ultimately to work toward the point where you are no longer needed because Christ is fully at work in them.

It is not “I” but Christ who lives in us. Not “I” but “we”—the body of Christ working together. As Galatians 2:20 says, “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.”

 

Loving Christians

Finally, the early Christians were loving Christians. When the apostles told the congregation to choose seven leaders for the mercy ministry, they chose Stephen, Philip, Prochorus, Nicanor, Timon, Parmenas, and Nicolaus (v. 5)—all Greek names. The majority of the church spoke Aramaic, yet they chose Greek-speaking leaders so that those most affected could be best served. That’s love.

This reminds me of Korean poet Park No-hae’s The Sin of Gratitude. He reflects on how his gratitude had been too small and self-centered – limited to his own health, his family’s safety, his nation’s peace. He came to see that such gratitude was not enough and was something to repent of. True gratitude grows to rejoice in others’ joy, to embrace others’ suffering, and to share in their pain.

Paul writes in Philippians 2:4, “Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others.” Love is not love if it stays only within our own circle. The early church widened the circle. And the result? God blessed them: “The word of God continued to spread; the number of the disciples increased greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith.” (v. 7)

 

Tree in the Rock

If we read today’s scripture (Acts 6:1–7) alone, it sounds as if the problem was solved quickly and the church prospered overnight. But in reality—both then and now—growth is slow, often coming through struggle and perseverance.

Today as a church we face many problems and hear anxious voices: “Our church doesn’t have enough people!” “Our denomination is a sinking ship!” “It’s too late to change the tide!” But today’s passage gives us hope.

On vacation, my family and I visited Lost River and Boulder Caves in the White Mountains. There, we saw something astonishing—trees growing out of solid rock. They drew people’s attention. How could they survive there? At the tip of a tree’s root is a growth point that holds a bit of moisture. Where there is moisture, microorganisms multiply. Over years, these tiny organisms break microscopic cracks in the rock, allowing the roots to go deeper. It is said that it takes 100 years for just one inch of moss to grow. Imagine how many centuries it might take for a tree to root and rise tall from solid stone.

There is no quick solution for the church’s struggles. But what if we stopped trying to do everything, set clear priorities, and poured ourselves into God’s kingdom? What if we simply loved and mentored one person near us? What if we looked beyond our own group and became advocates for others?

We may not see the fruit right away. But in God’s time, we will reap a harvest with joy. And people will be drawn—not to us—but to Christ. Like a tree in the rock, God can grow us even in the hardest places. Our God is able. So let us hope in God, and love one person at a time. Amen.

 

"Strange Joy" (Acts 5:27-42)

 

Happiness and Joy

Can we be joyful while being unhappy? In other words, are happiness and joy the same—or are they different?

Joy is not the same as happiness. Happiness depends on external circumstances. It comes and goes. It can fade quickly when life gets hard. But joy is different. Joy is rooted in God’s presence and God’s promises. It is deep, lasting, and internal. So yes, we can be unhappy about many things and still have joy. We can rejoice even in the middle of distress, sickness, sorrow, or grief.

 

Strange Joy

Today’s Scripture gives us a strong example. Peter and the apostles were arrested—again. They stood before the Jerusalem Council, and the religious leaders wanted to kill them. But a wise council member, Gamaliel, persuaded them to leave the apostles alone. The leaders listened, but before releasing the apostles, they had them beaten and flogged. Then comes this surprising verse: 

“As they left the council, they rejoiced that they were considered worthy to suffer dishonor for the sake of the name.” (v. 41, NRSV)

The Bible doesn’t say they were happy. But it does say they rejoiced—in suffering. That is what I call strange joy. Where did their joy come from? It came from their calling. The apostles were called to be “witnesses” for Christ. No matter the cost, they stood firm. And through their faithful witness, many came to believe in Christ. Even in persecution, the church grew and God’s kingdom advanced. That was their joy. When we live out our God-given calling, we find deep contentment and joy.

So here’s an important question we should ask ourselves: What is my calling? Am I living it out? Is Jesus honored through my witness and my life?  For the apostles, the answer to all these questions was “Yes.” So they rejoiced.

 

Joy, Joy, Joy

How about John the Baptist? He was a rising star. People from all over Israel came to hear him and be baptized. His ministry was thriving. But then Jesus began his public ministry—and suddenly, the crowds left John to follow Jesus. John’s disciples were upset and confused. I imagine John might have felt discouraged, even embarrassed. He could’ve asked, “Am I on the right path?” But John remembered his identity and his calling. He was not the Christ. He was called to be the voice in the wilderness, preparing the way for the Lord. And he lived out that calling faithfully. Through his witness, people were drawn to Christ. John told his disciples: 

“It is the bridegroom who marries the bride, and the best man is simply glad to stand with him and hear his vows. Therefore, I am filled with joy at his success.” (John 3:29, NLT)

And then he added: “He must increase, and I must decrease.” (v. 30)

The apostle Paul is another powerful example. While in prison, he wrote a letter to the Philippians. Some people preached Christ with good motives, but others did it out of selfish ambition, hoping to add to Paul’s pain. Yet Paul wasn’t shaken. He had a clear sense of identity and calling. He knew he was deeply loved by God and called to preach to the Gentiles. Though chained and surrounded by enemies, Paul saw how his imprisonment actually helped advance the gospel. That’s why he said: 

“What does it matter? The important thing is that in every way, whether from false motives or true, Christ is preached. And because of this I rejoice. Yes, and I will continue to rejoice.” (Philippians 1:18, NIV)

For me, I’m just beginning to learn this strange joy. Since July, I’ve felt a greater emptiness in the pews—not just because of numbers, but because my number one ministry companion and cheerleader is no longer here. Since our marriage in 2008, Joyce and I have shared all of ministry together. Her absence has left a big void. I am grieving. Yet, I hear beautiful things happening at Stetson Memorial UMC. Young families and children start coming. People struggling with addiction are finding new life in Christ. New momentum is building. God’s kingdom is advancing. So—even in my sorrow—I rejoice.

 

Intentional Joy

Joy does not come automatically. We have to choose joy—and keep choosing it every day. The apostles didn’t just rejoice once and move on. They kept choosing joy. “Every day, in the Temple and from house to house, they continued to teach and preach this message: ‘Jesus is the Messiah.’” (v. 42, NLT) They stayed faithful. They stayed the course. Their joy was not passive; it was intentional joy.

Some of you may wonder, “What is my calling?” or “What does God want me to do?” If you are a Christian—a follower of Christ—your calling is already clear. We all share the same primary calling: It is to know Christ and to make Him known – in our home, in our workplace, in everyday life. We need to be faithful where we are.

Let me share a story. There was once a man walking along a beach after a storm. The shore was covered with thousands of starfish. In the distance, he saw a child picking them up one by one and gently tossing them back into the ocean. The man said, “Why are you doing this? You can’t possibly make a difference. There are too many.” The child looked at the starfish in his hand, threw it into the sea, and said, “It made a difference to that one.”

I believe that’s what our calling looks like. One act of kindness. One encouraging word. One prayer. One visit. One faithful step at a time. For me, my spiritual practice is to pray for each church member every day. And I reach out to those God nudges me toward. When I obey that gentle nudge, and live out my calling, I find joy.

 

Everlasting Joy

When things got tough, the apostles, John the Baptist, and Paul asked themselves, “Am I on the right path?” And when they saw signs that Christ was being exalted and His kingdom was advancing, they rejoiced. Joy is not just about how we feel—it’s about direction. “Where are we standing?” “Where are we going?”

Billy Graham once shared a powerful story. When he was 92 and struggling with Parkinson’s disease, he was invited to a luncheon in his honor. He hesitated, but finally agreed. After lunch, he stood and shared a story about Albert Einstein:

Einstein was once traveling by train. When the conductor came to check tickets, Einstein couldn’t find his. The conductor said, “Dr. Einstein, I know who you are. I’m sure you bought a ticket. Don’t worry.” But Einstein kept searching. The conductor repeated, “Sir, it’s okay—we know who you are.” Einstein replied, “Young man, I too know who I am. What I don’t know is where I’m going.”

Then Billy Graham said, “See this suit I’m wearing? It’s brand new. I bought it for two occasions – this luncheon and for my funeral. I will be buried in this suit. But when you hear I’m dead, I don’t want you to remember the suit. I want you to remember this: “I not only know who I am. I also know where I’m going.”

Life without God is like taking a train without a ticket—it has no destination. Life with God is full of joy—step by step, no matter what. “You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; in your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11, NRSV) May we always keep the Lord before us—whether in season or out of season, in good health or in sickness. And may we always choose joy, each and every day. Amen.

“Barnabas and Ananias” (Acts 4:36–5:11)

 

Perfect Church

There’s a well-known story about a man who once approached the great preacher Charles Spurgeon. The man said he was searching for the perfect church. He had visited several congregations, but each one disappointed him in some way—some had internal divisions, others lacked spiritual fervor. So he asked Spurgeon, “Can you help me find a perfect church?” Spurgeon, with his usual wit and wisdom, replied, “My dear friend, if you ever find such a church, don’t join it—because the moment you do, it won’t be perfect anymore!”[1]

That story always makes me smile, but it also points to a deeper truth: there is no perfect church—because the church is made up of real people: sinful and broken. Even the early church was not immune to trouble. As it grew stronger, the enemy launched counterattacks from both without and within—first, persecution from the outside; then, corruption from the inside.

Ananias and Sapphira

The story of Ananias and Sapphira is unique and striking. It is shocking—but it is also written under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. It teaches us about the seriousness of sin and, at the same time, reveals the brightness and glory of the Gospel of Christ.

Luke intentionally places their story right after the account of Barnabas. There was a man named Joseph, also called Barnabas, meaning “son of encouragement.” He sold a field he owned, brought the money, and laid it at the apostles’ feet. He was deeply respected by the early church.

Ananias and Sapphira saw this. They wanted the same kind of admiration that Barnabas received. So they imitated his actions. Outwardly, both Barnabas and Ananias did the same thing: they sold property, brought the proceeds, and gave it to the church. But inwardly, there was a vast difference. As a result, Barnabas was commended, while Ananias faced God’s judgment.

Adam and Eve

This story is hard to read, but it offers an important insight into our sinful nature. In fact, it parallels the story of Adam and Eve in Genesis 3. Adam and Eve conspired together and deliberately rebelled against God. They wanted to be like God. That same sinful nature has been passed down through every human heart.

In Acts 5, Ananias, “with his wife’s full knowledge,” withheld part of the money while pretending to give it all. It was a deliberate act of deceit—despising God and disrupting the unity of the church. Ananias sought human praise rather than the praise of God (cf. John 12:43).

John Calvin famously said, “The human heart is a perpetual idol factory.” He meant that we constantly create things that we end up loving or trusting more than God. These idols aren’t always statues—they can be anything we place above Him. For Ananias, the idols were reputation, recognition, and control. He wanted to appear holy and generous—without actually surrendering his heart. But God is not mocked.

Achan

This story also echoes the story of Achan in Joshua 7. In Acts 5:2, we’re told that Ananias “kept back” some of the money. The Greek word nosphizō means “to embezzle.” Most likely, Ananias had pledged to give the full amount to the church, but secretly held some back. This same Greek word is used in Joshua 7:1 to describe what Achan did.

After the fall of Jericho, the city was declared “cherem”—devoted to God. The Israelites were told not to take anything. But Achan disobeyed. He stole from what had been consecrated to the Lord. And his sin didn’t just affect him—it impacted the entire community. Sin is contagious. Greed, dishonesty, and deceit pollute not only our own souls but also those around us. And the consequence of sin is always death and judgment.

The Good News

I am Adam. You are Eve. We are Achan.
We all share the same sinful nature—self-centeredness—trying to look good at the expense of others. We can’t fix ourselves because our hearts are corrupted. Scripture says, “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?” (Jeremiah 17:9). That’s the bad news.

Paul, too, cried out, “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:24). But then comes the turning point: “Thanks be to God—through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (v. 25a).

The darker the night, the brighter the light of Christ shines. The Gospel declares: we are so sinful, so helpless, so lost, that Jesus had to be crucified to save us. The Gospel offends those who believe in the goodness of humanity, but it saves those who see their need and turn to Christ.

Paul said, “I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes” (Romans 1:16). The cross shows us both how broken we are and how loved we are.

Salvation Hill

John Bunyan gives us a vivid image of salvation in Pilgrim’s Progress. Christian, the main character, carries a heavy burden on his back—representing his sin and guilt. He tries everything: morality, religion, good deeds—but nothing removes the weight.

Then he comes to a hill called Calvary. As he climbs and looks to the Cross, something miraculous happens: the burden loosens, falls off his back, and rolls away—disappearing into an empty tomb. Christian weeps with joy, realizing: I didn’t earn this. I simply looked and believed.[2]

This is how salvation comes. Not by pretending to be holy—like Ananias and Sapphira—but by laying our pride down and trusting the One who bore our burden. The moment we look to Christ, our guilt is gone, and our heart is made new.

Eustace’s Scales

And just as we are saved by grace, we are also sanctified by grace.

In The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C. S. Lewis introduces Eustace—a selfish, greedy boy who turns into a dragon after hoarding treasure. Desperate and miserable, he tries to scratch off his dragon skin—but each time, another layer remains.

Finally, Aslan, the Christ-figure, appears. Eustace recalls:[3]
“You will have to let me undress you,” said the Lion. I was afraid of his claws, but I was desperate. So I lay down and let him do it. The very first tear went so deep I thought it had gone to my heart… But it was the joy of the peeling that made the pain bearable.”

That’s how sanctification works. We can’t fix ourselves. But if we surrender, Jesus will do it. Layer by layer. Grace upon grace. By the end of the story, Eustace is transformed into a faithful warrior.

Good News for You

So, where are you today?

Are you carrying a burden like Christian? Hiding behind appearances like Ananias? Trapped in selfishness like Eustace?

Wherever you are, Jesus invites you to come. Aslan says, “You must let me undress you.” Jesus says, “Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

He alone can lift the burden.
He alone can tear through the layers.
He alone can give you a new heart and make you whole.

So come. Don’t pretend. Don’t delay.
Now is the time of God’s favor. Now is the day of salvation.

Come honestly. Come humbly. Come to Jesus.

And you will find what Ananias missed—but what Barnabas found: a new life, and joy in the Holy Spirit.

“You show me the path of life. In your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11, NRSV) Amen.

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[1] Ajith Fernando, Acts (The NIV Application Commentary Book 5) (p. 153). Zondervan Academic. Kindle Edition.

[2] John Bunyan, Pilgrim’s Progress (Parts 1 & 2) (p. 41). Aneko Press. Kindle Edition.

[3] C. S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (London: Collins, 1974), p. 102.

Monday Morning Coffee - July 14

 

Peace to you.

When you look at this picture, what image or word comes to your mind?

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...

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The answer is… “five loaves and two fish.”

A week ago, my family and I visited St. John beach on our sabbath day. It was a beautiful, sunny, and peaceful day. For a little while, I walked along the seashore in silence and solitude. As I looked at the stones around me, I suddenly thought they looked like “loaves.” I carefully picked five rounded stones and two larger ones.

These days, I feel like what I have—and even who I am, including my family (five children and two parents)—is like five loaves and two fish. Nothing fancy, just simple and small. But that’s what I have. That’s who I am. On the seashore that day, I wrote a prayer-poem, and I’d love to share it with you:
 Five Loaves and Two Fish – prayer poem

It’s amazing how the Spirit works. That same week, Joyce shared her first message on the five loaves and two fish at Stetson Memorial UMC. You can read her sermon here:
 Joyce’s Message

If you haven’t had a chance yet, here are links to watch our recent services and read my Sunday message:

 Houlton UMC Service:
Watch on YouTube

 Mars Hill UMC Service:
Watch on Facebook

 Message: "Prayer in the Night" (Acts 4:23–31):
Read the message

Have a grace-filled and joyful week!

In Christ's love,
Pastor Victor

Prayer in the Night (Acts 4:23-31)

 

Between Scylla and Charybdis

There is a Chinese idiom, 進退兩難, which literally means, “Advance or retreat, both are difficult.” This saying comes from ancient Chinese military strategy. It describes a situation where an army is stuck: advancing means destruction, retreating means disgrace. It expresses that feeling of being trapped with no easy way out.

Have you ever in that kind of situation? You don’t have the strength to keep going forward, or you don’t know how to proceed — but at the same time, you can’t just turn around and walk away. You feel stuck, trapped, surrounded, and unsure what to do. If you’re in that season now, this message is for you.

In Acts 4, Peter and John found themselves in such a dilemma. Though they were released from custody this time, they were strictly ordered not to speak about Jesus or His resurrection anymore. If they continued, they would face serious consequences. Yet, as Peter boldly declared, “We cannot keep from speaking about what we have seen and heard,” they simply could not stay silent. So what did they do? Let’s learn from the Apostles and the Early Church.

 

Praying with the Church

The first thing Peter and John did after their release was go to their fellow believers – “the church” – and pray together with them. Acts 4:23-24 says: “After they were released, they went to their friends and reported what the chief priests and the elders had said to them. When they heard it, they raised their voices together to God…” In their valley moment, they gathered in unity and lifted up one voice in prayer. Ecclesiastes 4:12 reminds us, “Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves. A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.” (NIV) We are not meant to walk alone. That is why the church – this community of believers – has been given to us.

Even the prophet Elijah, a spiritual giant, once struggled deeply mainly because he thought he was the only one left. After his great victory over Baal’s prophets, he fled from Queen Jezebel’s threats. Exhausted and discouraged, he cried out, “I have had enough, Lord. Take my life!” (1 Kings 19:4). But God ministered to him through rest and nourishment. Then Elijah got up and traveled forty days until he reached Horeb. There he heard a gentle voice, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He replied, “I have fervently served God… but now I am the only one left!” What was God’s answer? He said, “I’ve reserved 7,000 in Israel who have never bowed down to Baal or kissed him!” (19:18) God opened Elijah’s eyes to see he was not alone.

Similarly, once Aram’s strong army came at night and surrounded the city of Dothan where Elisha was staying. Elisha’s servant got up early and saw a vast army with horses and chariots surrounding the city. He was terrified, crying out in despair, “Oh, no! Master, what will we do?” Elisha said, “Don’t be afraid, because there are more with us than with them!” Then he prayed, “O Lord, open his eyes so he may see.” And suddenly, he saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire (2 Kings 6:17) When we pray, especially with others, God often opens our eyes to see the spiritual reality: that we are not alone. We are surrounded—by His presence and by His people.

 

Praying the Psalms

The early Christians not only gathered to pray, but also they prayed the Psalms. In Acts 4:25-26, they prayed Psalm 2 a Messianic Psalm:

"Why do the nations rage and the peoples plot in vain? The kings of the earth take their stand and the rulers gather together against the Lord and against his Anointed One.”’

When they saw Herod, Pilate, and religious leaders oppose Jesus, they were not surprised. They saw it through the lens of Scripture—God had already spoken of such resistance. And yet, God reigns. Jesus is still King. Their courage was renewed as they prayed the Psalms.

The Psalms teach us how to pray. When we pray the Psalms, it becomes my prayer. One member of our church once shared that when her son was deployed for war, she prayed Psalm 91 daily: “The one who lives in the shelter of the Most High will find rest in the shadow of the Almighty.” It became her personal prayer. When I was in the army, I often felt stuck and hopeless. My only joy was praying the Psalms each night. Psalm 39 became especially dear to me: “But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you.” (v. 7) It has become my own prayer.

But if you were to pray through the entire book of Psalms, you might find it difficult to connect with certain psalms—especially the psalms of vengeance or those expressing complete innocence. This raises a deeper question: how can these deeply human prayers become part of the Bible, the Word of God? The answer is found in Jesus Christ. The Psalms are ultimately the prayers of Jesus. It is Jesus who is praying in and through them—every psalm, every cry, every praise. Dietrich Bonhoeffer rightly said[1]:

The human Jesus Christ to whom no affliction, no illness, no suffering is unknown, and who yet was the wholly innocent and righteous one, is praying in the Psalter through the mouth of his congregation.

Jesus prayed the Psalms. And now, by the Spirit, we join Him in those prayers. The Psalter is the prayer book of Christ, and we are invited to pray with Him and through Him.

 

Praying for Courage

What did the early church specifically pray for? Boldness.

“And now, Lord, look at their threats, and grant to your servants to speak your word with all boldness…” (Acts 4:29)

They didn’t ask for safety. They didn’t ask for revenge. They prayed for courage—to keep proclaiming Christ. And after they prayed, they were filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God with boldness (v. 31).

Pastor Eric Foley, head of Voice of the Martyrs Korea, once met North Korean underground believers. When he asked how he could pray for them, they replied, “You pray for us? We pray for you! We don’t have money or freedom, but we have Christ—and He is sufficient. We don’t pray for regime change. We don’t pray for freedom and money. We pray for more of Christ and boldness to share Him.”[2]

 

Prayer in the Night

Finally, I want to share a story about Watchman Nee, a faithful church leader in China. He suffered from serious illnesses, including a chronic stomach disorder and heart disease. Every day, he prayed for healing. One night, he had a dream. In the dream, he was crossing a river by boat when suddenly, a huge rock appeared and blocked his way. He prayed, “Lord, please remove this rock!” Then he heard a voice saying, “My beloved son, do you want me to take away the rock? Or raise the water so you can pass over it?” He prayed for a moment and said, “Lord, please raise the water.” For the rest of his life, he was never healed. Yet day by day, his ministry was sustained – not by his own strength, but by the Spirit of God.

There are times when we pray in the night – wresting, weeping, watching, and waiting. In those moments, let us learn from the early church:  

1.     Pray together in community – don’t walk alone.

2.     Pray the Psalms – Let Christ pray through you. 

3.     Pray for courage – to keep following Jesus no matter what lies ahead.

May the Lord sustain you, and when you are weak, may you find He is strong. Amen. 

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[1] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together (Dietrich Bonhoeffer Works) (p. 28). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.

[2] CBN News, “The Surprising Prayers of North Korea’s Christians,” https://cbn.com/news/news/surprising-prayers-north-koreas-christians

“Companions of Jesus” (Acts 4:1–22)

 

If Faith vs. Though Faith

There are two kinds of faith we often see—“if” faith and “though” faith. “If” faith says, “I will trust God if He answers my prayers… if He keeps me from suffering… if life goes well.” But “though” faith declares, “Even though things go wrong… though my prayers go unanswered… though sickness comes… nevertheless, I will trust Him anyway.” Dr. King once said that the real test of faith is not how we praise God in times of blessing, but whether we still hold on in the storm. Today, I want to invite us to that kind of faith—a “though” faith that stays close to God, not just in comfort, but especially in suffering.

 

Peter’s Journey: From If Faith to Though Faith

As we read the Book of Acts, we see how Peter’s faith has changed—from “if” faith to “though” faith. He used to be a man of many moods. At one moment, Peter gave a perfect answer to Jesus, saying, “You are the Son of the living God!” But the next moment, he was rebuked by Jesus: “Get behind me, Satan.” On another occasion, he boldly stepped out of the boat to walk on water, but within seconds, after seeing the wind, he began to sink. But now Peter has changed. He is no longer easily swayed. He has become steadfast, like a “rock”—true to his name.

Just a few weeks earlier, Jesus had stood before the Sanhedrin court—falsely accused, unjustly condemned, and then crucified. At that time, Peter denied Jesus three times. Now, in Acts 4, Peter himself stands in the same place before the same group. The traumatic memories must have flooded his mind. And he is asked the same question Jesus was asked (cf. Luke 20:2): “By what power or by what name did you do this?” (Acts 4:7).

But Peter is no longer afraid. He stands bold as a lion. What happened to him? What made him a man of “though” faith? We can find the answer in today’s passage.

 

By the Power of the Holy Spirit

As Peter prepares to answer the Sanhedrin, Luke—the author of Acts—writes: “Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them…” (v. 8). Peter might have been handed over to the Romans, suffered, or even been killed. Yet he remained calm and courageous—by the power of the Holy Spirit.
How can we be filled with the Holy Spirit? Jesus said, “Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and the door will be opened to you… If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask Him?” (Luke 11:9–13)

Later in Acts 4, after Peter and John were released, they returned to the other believers and reported what had happened. When the believers heard it, they lifted their voices together in prayer. They asked for more of the Holy Spirit, so that they might stand firm in faith.

Then what happened? “When they had prayed, the place in which they were gathered together was shaken, and they were all filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke the word of God with boldness.” (v. 31)

The pattern is clear:

1. They prayed.
2. They were filled with the Holy Spirit.
3. They stood firm with courage.

So by what power did Peter and John do all this? The Holy Spirit!

 

By the Name of Jesus

Peter continues his response: “This man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth” (v. 10). This Jesus is the stone that was rejected by the builders—the powerful ones—but He has become the cornerstone. Jesus was rejected and crucified, but God raised Him from the dead. God highly exalted Him and gave Him the name above every name. By the powerful name of Jesus, this man was healed. By the wonderful name of Jesus, we are healed and saved. There is no other name by which we must be saved.

When we read the Bible, we should not see it as a collection of 66 isolated morality tales. Instead, we are reading one big story that points to one Person—Jesus Christ. The gospel is not primarily about us. It is not about our happiness, health, or safety—though God cares for those things. The gospel is all about Jesus.

The Bible says, “Jesus died for us so that we should no longer live for ourselves but for Him who died for us and was raised again.” (cf. 2 Corinthians 5:15) Peter repented, turned, and believed this gospel. He believed in the name of Jesus. And by that name, he was forgiven, saved, sustained, and strengthened—by the power of the Holy Spirit and the name of Jesus Christ.

 

Companions of Jesus

The religious leaders couldn’t take their eyes off Peter and John because of their courage. They were even more astonished when they realized these two were laymen—without formal training or education in Scripture. Then Luke gives us the answer: “They recognized them as companions of Jesus.” (v. 13, NRSV) Other translations say, “They recognized that they had been with Jesus.” (ESV, NIV) Michael Ramsey once said, “Do not worry about status… There is only one status that our Lord bids us to be concerned with, and that is the status of proximity to Himself.” [1]

So where does our strength and courage come from? It comes from our closeness to Jesus. And often, in Scripture, closeness to Jesus and suffering go hand in hand. In the Bible, suffering is often presented not as a curse, but as a blessing:

· “Whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance.” (James 1:2–3)
·       “Before I was afflicted I went astray, but now I obey your word… It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn your decrees.” (Psalm 119:67, 71)
·       “We must suffer many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God.” (Acts 14:22, NLT)

 

Hebrews 11 reminds us of our spiritual ancestors who suffered greatly to enter God’s kingdom. Some were mocked, persecuted, tortured, or killed. But in suffering, they stayed close to Christ. They were commended for their “though” faith—called more than conquerors.

 

More Love to Thee, O Christ

When I think about suffering and persecution, one story always comes to my mind. In 1974, a North Korean newspaper announced that the government had finally wiped out the last known group of Christians in the country. For nearly two decades, about 30 brave believers had lived underground. They hid by day and scavenged for food at night.

One day, as the government was constructing a new road for Kim Il Sung’s visit, workers discovered the Christians’ hiding place. The believers were dragged out and forced to lie down on the road. A steamroller was brought in. To maximize the pain, it began crushing them from their feet up.

As the Christians lay there, waiting for death, one of them began to sing. And soon, the others joined in[2]:

“More love to Thee, O Christ, more love to Thee!
Hear Thou the prayer I make on bended knee…

Once earthly joy I craved, sought peace and rest;
Now Thee alone I seek, give what is best;

This is my earnest plea: More love, O Christ, to Thee;
More love to Thee, more love to Thee!”

When we pray, things may or may not get better outwardly. But when we pray, God always promises to strengthen us, help us, and sustain us—by the power of the Holy Spirit and by the name of Jesus.

Through whatever trial we may face today, may we draw even closer to Jesus—our Savior and our Companion.

Let us keep asking: More love to Thee, O Christ. More love to Thee. Amen.

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[1] John Stott, The Radical Disciple (p. 74). InterVarsity Press. Kindle Edition.

[2] North Korea: Good News Reaches the Hermit Kingdom (Living Sacrifice Book Company, 2008), 45-46.