Acts 16:16-34
John 17:20-26
Did you folks pay attention to
that reading in Acts? Did you notice that when Paul and
Silas were singing hymns at midnight the walls shook,
the doors flew open and their chains fell off! What do
you think? Did they sing good? Or were they so off key
that God was trying to get their attention and tell them
to be quiet?
Now, I'd like to see our choir
make this old building reverberate with its singing.
Amen! In fact, I'd like to see the whole congregation
sing with such enthusiasm that everyone can hear us down
the street that they would look in the windows to see
what's rocking!
There's something really
invigorating about singing a song that comes from deep
down within. There's something powerful and rejuvenating
about singing - even when you can't carry a tune in a
bucket. If you're like me you do your best singing in
the car when no one's with you. You sing in the shower
where the ceramic walls and steaming water drops drown
out the sour notes. Or maybe you just don't care, and
you sing when the spirit moves you.
But think about Paul and Silas.
Think about their circumstances. Could you sing after
you had been beaten with rods and you were left bleeding
and bruised? Could you sing when you were sitting on a
dirt floor with your feet locked in the stocks? Could
you sing in absolute darkness of night with other
prisoners around you, rats and spiders crawling in the
corners? And yet that is what they did. They brought
light into the darkness, a presence into the loneliness,
life when it seemed there was none.
Some of our greatest spirituals
have come from those who were imprisoned or enslaved by
someone or something. Favorite hymns and songs help
people in desperate situations find the strength to
endure. That's the power of song. It doesn't matter if
the notes are right. What does matter is that the song
reflects your inner feelings, that it voices the hope or
the despair that is in your soul. It connects you with
your surroundings. It lifts your emotions into the air
where they can be carried to the heavens. Perhaps it
empties you of a great burden or explodes with your joy.
There's a TV show, American
Idol, where young aspiring and hopeful voices have an
opportunity to grow and mature with their talents in
front of every household in America. One of the most
frequent recommendations by the three judges is not that
they impeccably copy the original artist, but that they
make the song their own, let it emanate from within. Let
it speak of their life's experience and their hopes for
the future.
Well, something just that
amazing happened that night in prison. Two men prayed
and sang and God caused an earthquake. And by morning
they were free and an entire household believed and was
baptized. How does something like that happen? It
certainly wasn't just Paul's voice hitting beautiful
tenor notes or Silas with his deep bass resounding in
the deep caverns called prisons. It had to do instead
with the stuff for which Jesus prayed. Unity.
Unity with God. Jesus prayed,
"As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they
also be in us, so that the world may believe that you
have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have
given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in
them and you in me, that they may become completely one.
I made your name known to them, and I will make it known
so that the love with which you have loved me may be in
them and I in them."
When there is unity with God,
there is power. Just look at the change that occurred
with the jailer. Now to understand the magnitude of this
miracle, you have to understand the depth of the concept
of honor in people of the Middle East and Asia. We read
that the jailer drew his sword and was about to kill
himself. At first glance we can say, "Well, that was a
fate better than what would have happened to him when
the Romans found the prisoners had escaped and he was
there unscathed. They would assume he had neglected his
duty and would have inflicted a terrible punishment."
And this is true. But this emanates from the code of
honor that permeated Rome. A nation cannot grow in size
and might as Rome did, unless it is fiercely built on
honor. Everyone's purpose is directed to an ideal.
Everyone's station in life has meaning beyond survival,
food and shelter. Every movement, every effort reflects
this unity, this oneness to the glory of the empire.
If any of you watched the movie
The Last Samurai, you will have a glimpse of what I'm
talking about. Without a doubt, this movie is filled
with violence. When the Samurai are placed in a
situation where they must take lives, it is swift and
with great skill, but brutal to our American
sensibilities. The era of samurai arose during a time
when Japan was ruled by many Lords. And to protect his
kingdom, the Lord gathered around him this elite troop
whose sole purpose in life was duty to his Lord and to
honor. Failure to accomplish his task would dishonor him
and he was expected to take his own life. The narrator
of this movie said something toward the end that helped
me understand the Gospel message in a whole new light.
With the samurai, every movement, every action, every
thought would reflect the code by which one lived. A
samurai never had to make a promise because his word
meant exactly what he said.
We see this concept elaborated
in the Sermon on the Mount. Matthew 5:33-37. Jesus says,
"You have heard that it was said to those of ancient
times. 'You shall not swear falsely, but carry out the
vows you have made to the Lord.' But I say to you, Do
not swear at all, either by heaven or by earth. Let your
word be 'Yes, Yes' or 'No, No.'" All the admonitions
Jesus taught in this sermon had to do with complete
unity of purpose with God. There is no room for any
doubt. "You have heard it said, 'you shall not murder.'
But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or
sister, you are liable to judgment. 'Do not commit
adultery,' but I say anyone who looks at a woman with
lust has already committed adultery with her in his
heart. 'Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I
say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who
persecute you."
Jesus turned everyday
rationalizations on their head. Unity, oneness with God
meant not just outward actions based on a decision to do
it, but inward thought and belief emanating from one's
heart. This is what Jesus prayed for in his farewell
prayer in John.
"May they become completely one,
so that the world may know that you have sent me…I ask
not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those
who will believe in me through their word." Paul
understood this concept of honor well for he himself was
a citizen of Rome. So, when the doors of his prison flew
open and his chains were released, he did not run. To
run would say he did not trust in his God. To run would
have surely meant the death of his jailer and possibly
the other prisoners. To stay gave him the opportunity to
witness. Paul knew that the value of a human life was
not in that person's obedience to Jewish law, but to
God's unfathomable love, to God's willingness to keep
GOD's word, GOD's promises. And he knew his value as a
disciple of Christ was in keeping to his own word. Jesus
said, love God and love neighbor. And at that moment,
the jailer was his neighbor. And by honoring and living
the principles that belief in Jesus Christ meant - even
at the risk of his own life - he changed lives. That
jailer understood that Paul was at one with his God as
Jesus had prayed. It was a language that spoke louder
than any sermon Paul could have preached. It opened the
doors to the jailer's heart like God opened the doors to
the cell. Complete unity with the purpose you proclaim.
There in the depths of his
prison cell, Paul prayed and sang. He did not sit and
shout obscenities at his guards or tell the other
prisoners to be quiet and let him alone. Instead he
established a strong connection with God even in his
physical misery and God worked the miracle. I can
believe that the songs he sang were from deep within his
soul. They were probably the songs of his people when
they had been in bondage in Egypt. They were probably
the songs they sang as they wandered in the desert. And
the songs they sang when they were free at last.
Every song has merit whether old
spirituals, current traditional, or new and contemporary
IF they speak your heart's connection to God. It's not
so much about liking the tune or the words, but creating
a oneness between your hope and your reality - Jesus
Christ. My parents' generation came through World War II
and their music reflected that history. My teen years
were surrounded by the events of the Vietnam War era.
And my children's music reflects a whole different set
of circumstances. In a multi-generation congregation,
our songs must honor the realities of all the
generations, or our message will not reach everyone.
Music inspires, music speaks to the heart, music carries
our heart to God, music opens our senses to new
horizons, music bonds us to Jesus Christ in a way my
sermons cannot.
Let the music flow through you
from Jesus and from within you from your heart. Be at
one with God.
Amen