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Here he is: the
Apostle Paul, standing in the middle of the Areopagus—that select
council of thirty of the best and brightest minds of his day.
Paul is in
Athens
, the intellectual center of the universe—the town of
Plato
himself and his academic descendants.
Paul is alone. None of his
brothers or sisters in Christ is with him.
They sent him here, doing everything they could to get him out of
Thessalonica and Beroea alive. Paul’s
preaching and teaching had aroused enemies of the Gospel, and Paul’s
life had been threatened there.
So here he is in
Athens
, before these highly learned men. They
have asked him, a follower of Jesus Christ, to tell about what he believes
and why. Christianity, the
faith of those uneducated fishermen of Galilee, has made it here to
Athens
!
At first this Areopagus—this intellectual council—may look more like
the coliseum, and Paul is “being thrown to the lions.”
Won’t these scholars tear him apart?
Maybe not limb from limb—but at least irrational thought from
irrational thought? No!
Paul proclaims the Good News of Jesus Christ with bold confidence!
Paul, as we see, has nothing to fear.
And neither do we. The
Christian faith belongs here.
Sometimes we need to be reminded.
I think back to a college biology class with the world-renowned Stephen
Jay Gould as our professor. I
confess that many of us packed that lecture hall just to be able to say
that we took a class from him. But
I have to admit, it was not a pleasant experience!
Not because it was so difficult.
But rather, because at times it was so insulting.
Gould would periodically go off on a tangent—an anti-Christian
tangent. And when Dr. Gould talked about faith as “intellectual
suicide,” we didn’t have the courage to speak up!
Have you ever felt that way? Who
were we to stand up to this intellectual giant?
We merely whispered our muttered responses—for no one else to
hear but a friend beside us in that cavernous lecture hall.
Whether in that lecture hall at Harvard (do we call it the “
Michigan
” or the “
Michigan
State
” of the East?!), or in our own schools, or workplaces, or homes, or
conversations, it sometimes seems natural to feel afraid.
You wonder, like Paul in the Areopagus:
Do I really belong here? Can
Christian faith stand up to this challenge?
I was intrigued when I came across something that Stephen Jay Gould wrote
seven years after my graduation. He
took on a surprisingly new tone. A
battle between science and religion was raging, and Professor Gould wrote
this:
“The great American botanist Asa
Gray…was a devout Christian. Move
forward 50 years: Charles D. Walcott, discoverer of the Burgess Shale
Fossils…was an equally firm Christian…Move on another 50 years to (one
of the greatest biologists of our generation)…Theodosius Dobzhansky, a
believing Russian Orthodox (Christian).
Either half of my colleagues are enormously stupid, or else
science…is fully compatible with conventional religious beliefs…”
(Scientific American 267:121)
Now Gould was not himself a Christian, but he was acknowledging something
that a Gallup Poll clearly showed. Leading
scientists were asked this question: “Do
you believe in a God who actively communicates with humankind, and to whom
one may pray in expectation of receiving an answer?” Almost
half responded, Yes they do.
Francis Collins is one of those leading scientists who replied, “Yes, I
believe.” He was head of the
Human Genome Project; he works at the cutting edge of the study of DNA,
the code of life. And in his
book, The Language of God, he tells about his journey from atheism
to Christian faith.
Collins had always been struck by the odds against our even being here.
There are 15 physical constants that are necessary for life, as we
know it, to exist. The speed
of light, the strength of nuclear forces, the force of gravity—just to
name a few—if any of these were even slightly different, we would not be
here. It seemed to Collins and
to like-minded colleagues that our universe is uniquely tuned to give rise
to human life. Science, in his
experience, could not prove that God exists.
But it certainly led him in the direction of faith in God.
He appreciated what Presbyterian Theologian Benjamin Warfield had written
over 100 years earlier:
“We must not, then, as Christians, assume an attitude of antagonism
toward the truths of reason, or the truths of science…As children of the
light, we must be careful to keep ourselves open to every ray of light.
Let us, then, cultivate an attitude of courage as over against the
investigations of the day. None
should be more quick to discern truth in every field, more hospitable to
receive it, more loyal to follow it, whithersoever it leads.”
Francis Collins and other scientists like him have come to recognize that
we live in a postmodern era. We
have nothing to fear. Science
is limited to studying the natural world.
Its discoveries point to the beauty and the mystery of life.
Far from disproving Christian faith, it can actually open us up to
believing in and following Jesus Christ.
So we need not whisper in that
lecture hall. We need not be
afraid when asked what we believe and why we believe it.
Jesus said he sends us the Holy Spirit.
The role of the Holy Spirit has been described in many ways:
a comforter, an advocate, an advisor, a reminder of truth.
In Jesus’ farewell to his disciples (John 14:15-21), the Greek
word for Holy Spirit literally means, “One called alongside, to help.”
The Spirit is given to us to help us in our ministries.
Maybe you have seen the bumper sticker that says, “I
love Jesus. It’s his followers
that I can’t stand!” Apparently
this was a problem from the very beginning, because Peter writes, “Always be prepared to make a
defense to any one who calls you to account for the hope that is in you,
yet do it with gentleness
and reverence” (1 Peter 3:15).
Peter recognizes that just like Paul in the Areopagus, you will have your
own chance to explain why you have hope in Jesus Christ.
Someone will be watching what you do, or how you live, and
they’ll ask.
And the good news is that we get to answer.
We don’t need to keep silent.
The Holy Spirit will be with us and help us.
We get to be confident, even before the best and the brightest of
our day, because we follow a Risen Lord.
We love Him with all of our heart, and soul, and mind and strength.
And as Francis Collins and many others attest, both heart and mind
lead us to Him.
We get to be ready for God-given opportunities.
Ready to tell about the hope that is in us. Ready
to do so in a way that does not give rise to those bumper stickers!
We get to be loving and respectful, “doing unto others as we
would have them do unto us.”
Two weeks ago we had the funeral service here for Stuart Skelley, longtime
member of our church. We then
went to the cemetery and had a brief graveside service.
At the end of the service—just after the benediction—Stu’s
son-in-law got out his trumpet and began to play.
He played “Taps” in slow, somber notes.
Then there was silence. And
then a remarkable thing happened. He
began to play “When the Saints Go Marching In.”
He started hesitantly, as if he were wondering, “Is it OK to do
this?” But his notes became
stronger and stronger, more and more joyful, as everyone from the youngest
child to the oldest relative started to smile, and clap, and sing!
Even strangers nearby were swept up in that moment.
The music and the crowd were so filled with the Holy Spirit, it sounded
incredible. (OK, OK, I later
learned that the son-in-law was a professional trumpet player from
Las Vegas
, but I’m sure that that had nothing to do with it…)
It was so beautiful because it was exactly what Stu had requested.
Stu knew that Jesus had prepared a place for him, and had come
again so that where Jesus was he would be also.
And Stu knew that now it was time for “the saints to go marching out.” Now it
was time for us to go out and live with that joy—that
confidence—that hope.
I don’t have a trumpet here, and even if I did you wouldn’t want to
hear me try play it. But when
you go marching out of here today, children of God, that same Spirit goes
with you, to lift you up, and to help you sing.
Because that same hope is in you—God put it there.
And nothing—nothing at all—will ever be able to take away what
God has promised.
Thanks be to God!
Amen!
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