Scripture text: Acts 17:22-31
A new Gallup poll this week revealed that a record number of Americans no longer believe the Bible is the literal inerrant Word of God. 76% of respondents reject that particular approach to Scripture.
ELCA Lutherans have not, by tradition or dogmatics, been Biblical literalists, so in one sense it’s nice to see the rest of Christianity begin to align with us. We do not subscribe to the ideas of inerrancy; we believe the Bible does contain contradictions and (gasp) even errors. Luther himself probably said it best when he described the Bible as the manger from the Christmas story. There it is, made of rough wood, with rusted nails, splinters, knots, and splits, imperfect and flawed, and yet within it contains the very Word of God.
That’s fitting imagery, since God loves to use that which is flawed and imperfect to convey his will and love to the world. We’ve seen that a lot in these Easter stories, with Thomas and Peter and Saul and all these other characters who are often flawed, mistaken, weak, and yet become something far greater by the touch of God’s hand.
However, our perspective does not always sit well with our brothers and sisters in Christ, as my folks from Canadochly learned on Maundy Thursday. At least one of my Methodist colleagues took issue with our rejection of Creationism specifically. Well, so be it. Can’t please everyone all the time.
Um, no. This did not happen outside of a Spielberg movie.
A man lived in a cabin and there was a weather report that a flood was coming.A few guys in a truck came along and said to the man "Come on, you've got to leave. The flood is coming."The man in the cabin replied, "No, God will save me." So the truck drove off.Well, the flood came and the waters rose. They were up to the windows of the cabin when a boat came along.The guys in the boat called out to the man. "Come on, you've got to leave. The flood is getting worse."The man in the cabin replied, "No, God will save me." So the boat went off.The flood got worse and worse and it rose up to the very roof of the cabin. The man was sitting on the roof when a helicopter came by.The men in the helicopter called out. "Come on, you've got to leave. The flood is almost over your house."The man on the roof replied. "No, no, God will save me." So the helicopter flew off.The waters rose again and the man drowned. He went to heaven and stood before God."God," he said with frustration. "I trusted you. I counted on you. How could you let me die?"God replied “Well, I sent a truck, a boat, and a helicopter. What more did you want?”
Fundamentalism and literalism doesn’t let God be god. It restricts him, limits him, confines him.
And the Scriptures themselves reject this literalist perspective, probably nowhere more potently than in our first lesson today. Paul, on one of his missionary journeys, goes to the city of Athens. In many ways, in the first century, Athens is the center of the world, even more than Rome. Here is the crossroads of the world. Here is where the culture of Greco-Roman society has its origins. Here is the religious center of the known world.
Paul, of course, has a particular MO when he enters into a new city on one of his missionary journeys. He immediately seeks out the holy sites of the city, seeking a place of prayer or some place else that might draw people eager to hear the Gospel. We know in Athens about the great Parthenon, the temple to Athena that centers the city. At its base is a place called the Areopagus, which serves as a gateway to the religious center of the city.
The Areopagus today.
Because it is the religious center of the known world, Athens has openly embraced pretty much every religion under the sun and around and beyond the Areopagus there are shrines and altars to every god of just about every pantheon in the known world: Mithras, Zeus, Apollo, Anubis, Ra, Horus, Marduk, etc.
And, on the off chance they missed one, they have an altar to the “Unknown God” as well.
To many modern Christians, literalists in particular, walking into such a place with all its pagan iconography and worship would have been like being a pilgrim in an unholy land. Our God cannot be here, surrounded by all this blasphemy. He would never dare enter such an unholy place. But Paul knows better. He stands before the altar of the Unknown God and proclaims with boldness the Gospel of Jesus Christ. God isn’t absent from this place. He’s been there all along, hidden, mysterious, and unknown. Misunderstood even, until Paul unlocks the mystery and shows them the God they’ve been seeking all along.
That’s the funny thing about our God. Sometimes the places where we cannot see him are where he is most present. In the brothel, on the battlefield, in the shrine of the pagan, in the home of the atheist, in the lab of the scientist, God may be present in ways we don’t dare understand, because that would require us to admit that he is greater than we know. That he can and will do what he wishes, regardless of what our limited human opinions and beliefs dictate.
God does not live in a box of our making. He is not confined by our limited understanding. He is God and will appear and act however he wishes, to whom and through whom he wishes.
In the Areopagus, he speaks to a crowd of pagans standing by an altar to a god unknown through the voice of a man who once persecuted his church. Consider how absurd that must look by the logic of the world and then ask yourself what can’t God do?
That’s the wonder of the one we worship. There are no limits to his power, to his reach, to his will. And his will is to love and to save this world and people therein. No one, no matter what they’ve done in life, is beyond his grasp. You can never run far enough or become evil enough that he will not forgive you. Even into the most unholy of places you can imagine, he is there. He’s been there all along. Waiting for yet more opportunities to show you just how much he loves you.
Those Greeks in Athens knew him not and yet he loved them. Their unbelief didn’t stop that. Their sins didn’t stop that. Will yours? Will mine? Of course not.
In the end, it’s not really about us at all. About what we believe or don’t believe. About how right we are or not. It’s about God and his love for his people. A love that sent Jesus into the world. And we see in his disciples how often they screw up, how often they misunderstand or just plain don’t get it. Christ still loves them. He goes to the cross, dies, and rises again for the sake of this world of fools who think they can figure God out completely. We can’t. But we do know one thing. We know he loves us, all of us and all of them wherever they may be. Loves us enough to die for us. That’s, in the end, the only thing that matters. God loves us. Amen.
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