Acts 17:16-34 · In Athens
God in a Glimpse
Acts 17:16-34
Sermon
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Two nuns were returning to the hospital where they worked when they ran out of gas. They hailed a passing driver who said he would be happy to give them some - he could siphon it from his tank. The only problem was he had nothing to put the gas in. The nuns looked in their car but they found no container except a bedpan. This will have to do, they decided. So they filled it with gas from the man's car and waved goodbye as he drove away. As the nuns were emptying the bedpan into their gas tank, a trucker drove by. He slowed down, did a double take, and rolled down his window. As he passed he shouted, "Now that's faith."

Our Lord had a different idea of what faith is. We find him talking about it in the Gospel read several weeks ago when Thomas refused to believe in the resurrection unless he saw with his own eyes. "Have you believed because you have seen me?" asked Jesus, when he caught up with Thomas. "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe."

Believe without seeing - that is also Paul's message in our First Lesson this morning. Addressing the idol worshipers of Greece, Paul claims God is invisible. "The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all men life and breath and everything." Don't expect faith to come from a clear and simple hands-on experience with the Almighty, says Paul. God is much more elusive than that.

Faith is trusting in a God we cannot see or prove. It's a trust of his love and power. Faith is like the confidence of children in their father who carries them precariously on his shoulders. He never tells them he won't drop them - they simply trust. A placard in my office says it well - FAITH IS TO BELIEVE WHAT WE DO NOT SEE; AND THE REWARD OF FAITH IS TO SEE WHAT WE BELIEVE.

Believing without seeing is hard. Perhaps the most vexing problem of Christianity today is this one - how can we believe in a God who seems so invisible? In Jesus' day, at least, God seemed more evident. You could see Christ's miracles - the lame walking, the hungry fed, the dead sitting up. And one Jewish man out of ten had religion as a profession - teachers such as the Pharisees, ministers like the Levites and priests, monks like the Essenes. Everyone talked to and about God, so real was he to them. But God seems so quiet today. We pray for something, do not get it, and wonder if the Divine Giver is real. We watch science move steadily forward, conquering frontiers we thought belonged only to God, and we wonder just what is God's and where. We see world events lurch along chaotically, tragically, and we wonder if anyone up there is in control. Is there a Divine plan? Is there even a Divine Power?

Well, the Bible says there is. And Christ says there is. And the church throughout history says there is. Just because we can't see Jesus the way the disciples did, or hear a voice from God the Father as did Adam and Moses and the prophets, doesn't mean God isn't real. It simply means we haven't looked in the right places. Like Thomas, we were out the last time Christ passed by.

Let me suggest, this morning, that there are three ways we can glimpse this God who seems invisible. They are the three ways to faith.

The first way is by looking at his creation. We can't see God, but we can see the evidence of God. Look at his footprints passing through the universe. Look at nature, its intricate design and beauty of color and form - a flower, a snowflake, the atom, the Grand Canyon. How can one believe the universe was produced by a series of chance accidents rather than a master mind? When Paul said of God, "In him we live and move and have our being," he was claiming we are surrounded by the Almighty, if only we would recognize him, in the marvels of this world we take for granted. If we don't recognize him, it's because we can't see the forest for the trees.

Perhaps the most famous architect in English history was Christopher Wren. Wren died just before completing St. Paul's Cathedral, the second largest church in the world. St. Paul's was Wren's masterpiece and represented his highest dream, so it was natural that he was buried in it. But he has no written memorial in the cathedral. Instead, a small plaque on his tomb says: "If you seek his monument, look around you." In St. Paul's, Sir Christopher Wren needs no monument. The cathedral is his monument because it bears more eloquent testimony to his greatness than any words of man. Isn't the same true for God, the architect of the world? As St. Paul said, "Ever since the creation of the world God's invisible nature, namely, his eternal power and deity, has been clearly perceived in the things that have been made."(Romans 1:20)

You can also see this evidence of God in the marvel of his highest creation, the soul and mind of man. Look at the conscience you find there, that inner urge telling us what we should do, and feeling gratified when we do it and guilty when we don't. In humankind's earliest novels, such as the Iliad and the Odyssey that inner voice we all have was unknown as a conscience - they called it the voice of the gods. They were not far wrong.

Think of the mind's awareness of an order to existence beyond our five senses, our ability to awe and wonder, our urge to worship so all civilization has some diety. How could this longing be just an unsatisfiable illusion? Hasn't God, instead, stamped his divine image on us? He made people, said Paul, "that they should seek God in the hope they might feel after him and find him." Our souls thirst because there is a God who can quench that thirst, We could only have longings because there is a God who can satisfy them.

If you struggle to believe in a God you cannot see, look at the evidence of him in his creation. It's as convincing as the scars in Christ's hands and side, and as tangible as idols made of gold.

You can't see God directly but, if you want to glimpse him, look at the transformed lives of some of his people. Saul of Tarsus was a mean-spirited bounty hunter of Christians, whom God knocked down and made over into his champion of love and faith, the Apostle Paul. Aurelius Augustine was a self-described liar, thief, and playboy, melted down and remolded by God as the brilliant theologian, St. Augustine. Giovanni Francesco Bernadone was a rich Italian soldier of fortune dubbed by his friends, "King of the Revellers," whom God transformed into the gentle and compassionate, St. Francis of Assisi.

If you want to see God you can glimpse him in his effect on people. And it's not only the rebuilding of bad people into saints. Simple good people, like Martin Luther King, Jr. and Mother Teresa, he built into giants. And not only famous people evidence his touch. What about your neighbor who endures long hours and low pay as a social worker because he or she feels called by God to help others?

What about the choir member with a new gleam in her eye and encouraging words to all since God cured her cancer? If you want to glimpse God, look at the enthusiasm of his people; enthusiasm literally means "en theos" - God in them.

I can recognize God's reality in his effect on my own life. During those stretches of days or weeks when my thoughts are taken over by work, family, and routines, but when God is ignored - stilted prayers, no study, no wondering what Jesus would be doing in my shoes - during those God-less periods I unconsciously become depressed, tired, living in a haze. But the more I devote myself to being with Christ in my mind, the more confidence, joy, sensitivity, and power I find. Isn't that what Paul meant when he said "It's not I who do these things, but Christ within me"? There's a well-known prayer that expresses well the power that God can exercise in our lives: "Help me to remember, Lord, that nothing's gonna happen today that you and I can't handle together."

This recognized presence of God even determines what we call our places of worship. Early Christians could so sense God's presence and might they called their gathering places "houses of power." The Greek word for that, kuriakon, has come down to us as "church."

With a faith longing for certainty, we look for God and do not see him. But we do see evidence of him in nature and we do spot his transforming power in his people. More than that, in the Gospels we meet him incarnate as Christ. The whole point of Jesus' ministry prior to his death was that we might know what God is like - what he thinks, how he acts, what he wants. When the disciples asked Jesus to show them God, he replied, "He who has seen me has seen the Father." (John 14:9) Here is the sine qua non of our search for God. To have faith in God means first to read the story of Jesus in the four Gospels, to read them as humble and honest seekers so Christ might reveal himself to us and make the Creator God real to us. As Jesus said, "No one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him." (Matthew 11:27)

Therefore, in our search for God we can glimpse his evidence in his people and in nature and in Christ. And does that mean we can then believe in him? The irony is most of us can't then believe. At least, we can't believe based solely on the evidence. God doesn't work this way. He'll never be so evident that belief is inevitable. It's always up to us to accept him or not. It's the leap of faith. Faithfulness is not assenting to beliefs, but surrendering to a person we call Lord and Savior. And the result of faith is commitment, not credence.

Theologian Brooke Westcott wrote 100 years ago: "A Christian is essentially one who throws himself with absolute trust upon a living Lord, and not simply one who endeavors to obey the commands and follow the example of a dead teacher."

The good news is such a throwing of yourself on the Lord is not as difficult as you might fear. It's a leap of faith, true, but it's not across an impossibly wide chasm. For Christ promises "Blessed are those who have not seen and yet believe." And the heart of this blessing is that God himself will advance the faith-building if we can only say the initial, "My Lord and my God." As St. Mark puts it: "0 God, I believe; help thou my unbelief."

Part of the responsibility for faith lies with you. We are like those Greeks to whom Paul preached - we haven't seen God so clearly that believing in him is easy and automatic. But we do see enough evidence of him and we have heard enough people who do believe that we, too, can say: "Lord, I believe. Help me to throw my whole weight on you."

A final story. When Holman Hunt painted his famous picture of Christ outside a door knocking, he showed his picture to a friend before it was publicly exhibited. The friend looked at the kingly Christ seeking entrance to the believers' home through the thick wooden door. Suddenly he said, "Hunt, you've made a terrible mistake here." "What mistake?" the artist asked. "Why, you've painted a door without a handle." "That's not a mistake," Hunt replied. "The door has the handle on the inside."

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