I decided today that when someone writes the story of my family, our church or our community, I really don't want the mention of my name to begin with "But then there was a certain woman named Karen." You just know that something unflattering is about to come. In our families, it's usually something like this: "But, then there was Uncle Jim. Remember how he used to tell us that smoking was actually good for him before he got emphysema?" (Truth be told, that story is from my family -- maybe it was that caffeine actually made his blood pressure drop, unlike what it did to everyone else. It's the stuff of family legend, but the stories seem to grow in my mind with each passing year.)
So the story begins in Acts 5:1: But there was a certain man named Ananias, who with his wife Sapphira, sold some property. The scripture begins with but because it is being contrasted to the description that came in Acts 4:32: All of the believers were united in heart and mind. And they felt that what they owned was not their own, so they shared everything they had. In today's reading, Ananias and Sapphira pretended to give everything they had to the church and, in judgment, were struck dead in the presence of the apostles.
This scripture is confusing to us, so just imagine the fear and confusion that must have swept over the early church! Even when I try to put myself in the shoes of those who were friends of Ananias and Sapphira, or the apostles who saw these events unfold, my simple understanding of this scripture only comes down to this -- deceit is always destructive.
In withholding some of the money from their land sale while pretending to give it all away, scripture says that Ananias had let Satan fill his heart, lied to the Holy Spirit and lied to God. When Sapphira was confronted with their deceit, Peter told her that they were conspiring to test the Spirit of the Lord. From the outside it looked like greed, but it was actually symptomatic of something far deeper, wasn't it?
Deceit is always destructive, and it can be spiritually disastrous. Sin, however we try to justify it, can ruin our personal relationships and create a distance between ourselves and our God. By misrepresenting ourselves to others, both inside and outside of the church, we are damaging the reputation of the God we worship. And, what may look like a "simple" sin on the outside, is often a manifestation of something far more sinister growing inside of a believer.
The little bit that I understand about this example from the early church tells me that when we are deceptive in personal and spiritual matters, it is an affront to God. I am thankful that He no longer seems to act with such swift and drastic judgment, but human efforts to simply look good on the outside must cause Him just as much pain today as they did in the first century church.
Lord Jesus, help us to be more concerned with true obedience than perceived piousness. You know that we can be scared that you may ask more of us than we are willing to give. Like the rich young ruler, we're not so sure that we could sell all of our possessions to follow You. Forgive us for holding anything back, Jesus. As you gave everything You had for us, may we be increasingly willing to give our all for You. We're not there yet, Lord. Thank you that your death on the cross has covered all of our sins and shortcoming, even this one. Amen.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
This is really a sobering story. It always makes me a little uncomfortable, because if everyone who ever lied dropped dead, there wouldn't be a lot of people left alive!
It's possible that God's judgment was so swift and severe because of the position of the early church, and it was necessary that there be no deception present at all.
(Yes, that's me trying to rationalize the story, while maybe trying to excuse myself from similar judgment.)
Post a Comment