Letting our lives speak the message
Revelation 3:7-13
By James Galbraith
First Baptist Church, Port Alberni
October 4, 2009
Introduction
Our lives should speak the message for us.
Saint Francis ofAssisi once invited a young monk to join him on a trip to town to preach. Honored to have received the invitation, the young monk readily accepted.
All day long he and Francis walked through the streets, byways, alleys, and even the suburbs. They rubbed shoulders with hundreds of people. At the day’s end, the two headed back home. Not even once had Francis addressed a crowd, nor had he talked to anyone about the gospel.
Greatly disappointed, his young companion said, "I thought we were going to town to preach."
Francis responded, "My son, we have preached. We were preaching while we were walking. We were seen by many and our behavior was closely watched. It is of no use to walk anywhere to preach unless we preach everywhere as we walk!"
We preach the message through our lives every day.
This passage is about a church that had very little,
but made what it did have count,
and in doing so lived a life that showed the love of Jesus to it’s community.
You can probably see where I’m going to go with this, so let’s dig in.
Philadelphia
The City
- names means "brotherly love",
- city founded by a king in 2nd century BC to honour his brother,
who had proved to be loyal
- at the end of a very fertile valley, industry revolved around agriculture
- many temples and festivals
- lived with frequent earthquakes,
including a severe earthquake in 17 AD which destroyed city,
and as it was rebuilt people spread out away from it’s centre
Bottom line -
- nice place, but not stand out,
- not a military or cosmopolitan centre,
The Church
- developed a reputation for brotherly love as well
- Not a big, flashy church
- "I know you have little strength", "hold on to what you have"
- a church under threat from a powerful, local, hostile Jewish community
- "synagogue of Satan, who claim to be Jews...but are liars"
BUT, a solid, steady, serving church
- "I know your deeds"
- not always a compliment in this series
- Jesus also said this to churches whose deeds were foul
but in this case, a sign of good things to come
- "you have kept my word and have not denied my name"
- equal weight on both, two separate but equally important things
- "you have kept my command to endure patiently"
They are the only church of the seven that does NOT get a warning for bad behavior and because of this faithfulness, there are at least two rewards that await them
- one current and one future
1. Current - "I have placed an open door before you..."
opportunity to continue in service, regardless of local opposition
When Jesus says - "I will make them come and fall at your feet"
- enemies will eventually fall before them
- many enemies of the church have come and gone, but it persists in it’s ministry and love
And when he says, "I will also keep you from the hour of trial..."
- they will be spared harm
This was a time when the - Whole world - world known to them at the time
Was controlled by the Romans, who were beginning intense persecutions of Christians.
- this would be a promise that they would avoid the worst of this round of persecution
2. Future - "I am coming soon..."
future reward for continued faithfulness
- "I will make a pillar in the temple of my God. Never will he leave it"
- "I will write on him the name of my God... I will also write on him my new name"
These promises point toward permanence
In the volatile, hostile world that they lived in,
they could know with certainty that Jesus would not leave them,
and that they could look forward to his reward for them.
For us,
Keeping it simple in a complicated world.
Letting our lives, and then our mouths,
speak the words of our message, our hope, our reward.
I want to close with the story of one man who stood as an example for this kind of witness. It’s a longer story, but is so epitomizes living a life that shows the message:
Carl’s Garden
Carl was a quiet man. He didn’t talk much. He would always greet you with a big smile and a firm handshake. Even after living in our neighborhood for over 50 years, no one could really say they knew him very well.
Before his retirement, he took the bus to work each morning. The lone sight of him walking down the street often worried us. He had a slight limp from a bullet wound received in WWII. Watching him, we worried that although he had survived WWII, he may not make it through our changing uptown neighborhood with its ever-increasing random violence, gangs, and drug activity.
When he saw the flyer at our local church asking for volunteers for caring for the gardens behind the minister’s residence, he responded in his characteristically un¬assuming manner. Without fanfare, he just signed up.
He was well into his 87th year when the very thing we had always feared finally happened. He was just finishing his watering for the day when three gang members approached him. Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him, he simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?"
The tallest and toughest-looking of the three said, "Yeah, sure", with a malevolent little smile. As Carl offered the hose to him, the other two grabbed Carl’s arm, throwing him down. As the hose snaked crazily over the ground, dousing everything in its way, Carl’s assailants stole his retirement watch and his wallet, and then fled. Carl tried to get himself up, but he had been thrown down on his bad leg.
He lay there trying to gather himself as the minister came running to help him. Although the minister had witnessed the attack from his window, he couldn’t get there fast enough to stop it. "Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" the minister kept asking as he helped Carl to his feet. Carl just passed a hand over his brow and sighed, shaking his head. "Just some punk kids. I hope they’ll wise-up someday."
His wet clothes clung to his slight frame as he bent to pick up the hose. He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water. Confused and a little concerned, the minister asked, "Carl, what are you doing?"
"I’ve got to finish my watering. It’s been very dry lately",
came the calm reply. Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right, the minister could only marvel. Carl was a man from a different time and place.
A few weeks later the three returned. Just as before their threat was unchallenged. Carl again offered them a drink from his hose. This time they didn’t rob him. They wrenched the hose from his hand and drenched him head to foot in the icy water.
When they had finished their humiliation of him, they sauntered off down the street, throwing catcalls and curses, falling over one another laughing at the hilarity of what they had just done. Carl just watched them. Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun, picked up his hose, and went on with his watering.
The summer was quickly fading into fall. Carl was doing some tilling when he was startled by the sudden approach of someone behind him. He stumbled and fell into some evergreen branches. As he struggled to regain his footing, he turned to see the tall leader of his summer tormentors reaching down for him.
He braced himself for the expected attack. "Don’t worry old man, I’m not gonna hurt you this time." The young man spoke softly, still offering the tattooed and scarred hand to Carl.
As he helped Carl get up, the man pulled a crumpled bag from his pocket and handed it to Carl. "What’s this?" Carl asked.
"It’s your stuff," the man explained. "It’s your stuff back. Even the money in your wallet."
"I don’t understand," Carl said. "Why would you help me now?"
The man shifted his feet, seeming embarrassed and ill at ease. "I learned something from you", he said. "I ran with that gang and hurt people like you. We picked you because you were old and we knew we could do it.
But every time we came and did something to you, instead of yelling and fighting back, you tried to give us a drink. You didn’t hate us for hating you. You kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a moment. "I couldn’t sleep after we stole your stuff, so here it is back."
He paused for another awkward moment, not knowing what more there was to say. "That bag’s my way of saying thanks for straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street.
Carl looked down at the sack in his hands and gingerly opened it. He took out his retirement watch and put it back on his wrist. Opening his wallet, he checked for his wedding photo. He gazed for a moment at the young bride that still smiled back at him from all those years ago.
He died one cold day after Christmas that winter.
Many people attended his funeral in spite of the weather. In particular the minister noticed a tall young man that he didn’t know sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church. The minister spoke of Carl’s garden as a lesson in life. In a voice made thick with unshed tears, he said, "Do your best and make your garden as beautiful as you can. We will never forget Carl and his garden."
The following spring another flyer went up. It read: "Person needed to care for Carl’s garden." The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners until one day when a knock was heard at the minister’s office door.
Opening the door, the minister saw a pair of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer. "I believe this is my job, if you’ll have me," the young man said. The minister recognized him as the same young man who had returned the stolen watch and wallet to Carl. He knew that Carl’s kindness had turned this man’s life around. As the minister handed him the keys to the garden shed, he said, "Yes, go take care of Carl’s garden and honor him."
The man went to work and, over the next several years, he tended the flowers and vegetables just as Carl had done. In that time, he went to college, got married, and became a prominent member of the community. But he never forgot his promise to Carl’s memory and kept the garden as beautiful as he thought Carl would have kept it.
One day he approached the new minister and told him that he couldn’t care for the garden any longer. He explained with a shy and happy smile, "My wife just had a baby boy last night, and she’s bringing him home on Saturday." "Well, congratulations!" said the minister, as he was handed the garden shed keys. "That’s wonderful! What’s the baby’s name?"
"Carl," he replied.
Carl’s legacy was to let his life speak the gospel.
May it be ours as well.
