The Personal Touch

A Sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church

28 April 2024

Acts 18.1-4
1 Corinthians 1.10-18

As a way into our reflection on scripture for this morning,
            I’d like to invite you to take a moment
            to think of those people who have been particularly important to you
                        in the story of your life.
 
They might be teachers, friends, family,
            parents or grandparents, people from church or work;
take a moment and hold their names in your mind,
            and give thanks for them, and for the influence they’ve had on you.
 
We all of us have people we can give thanks for,
            individuals who have mattered to us and influenced our lives.
 
And of course there will be those who we would rather forget,
            people who have made life difficult for us,
            who we have struggled to relate to and possibly struggled to forgive.
 
Individuals are complex, we all are,
            but individuals also matter.
Communities such as churches, or even towns and cities,
            are made up of individuals, personalities, people.
 
And what struck me quite forcefully as I was reading through the passages
            in preparation for this morning,
was the number of personal names mentioned
            in these two short passages.
 
Here they are now:
 
·       Paul
·       Aquila
·       Priscilla
·       Claudius
·       Chloe
·       Apollos
·       Cephas
·       Crispus
·       Gaius
·       Stephanas
 
Ten names, two of them women;
            all of them individuals who, for better or worse,
            played their role in the drama of the early years of the church in Corinth.
 
There can sometimes be a tendency for us to de-personalise
            the various characters we meet in the New Testament.
 
Some of them we just ignore:
            I mean, when did you last hear someone
            preaching a sermon about Cripus, or Gaius, or Stephanus?
 
But then sometimes we go the other way,
            and we mythologise ‘big’ characters such as Peter and Paul
who then become kind of stock characters,
            more archetypes of idealised discipleship
            than individuals with personalities, flaws, and graces.
 
You’ve heard it in a hundred sermons:
            Peter is the comedically inept failure who comes good in the end,
while Paul is the classic villain-turned-hero
            who consistently exercises a superhuman strength of character
            in the face of overwhelming threat and opposition.
 
And if we’re not careful, we lose sight of the individuals,
            the people, the personalities,
            that lie behind the names on the page.
 
So this morning, I want us to keep alert for the personal touch,
            for how the people that these names speak of
            featured in the life of the early church;
because in their significance
            we can discover something of the significance of our own lives
            and of the people that have played their part in our stories.
 
So, to Corinth.
 
I went through Corinth when I was about fourteen,
            in a car driving from Athens where my uncle lived,
            to the southern tip of the Peloponnese where the family village was located.
 
We stopped for a few minutes, to have a look at the Corinth Canal,
            this amazing four mile cut through the isthmus,
            linking the Aegean and Ionian seas.
 
Plans for a canal here date back to before the time of Jesus,
            but it wasn’t actually constructed until 1893.
 
So when Paul was staying in Corinth,
            goods needing to be taken from one side to the other
                        had to be taken off the ships, hauled across,
                        and loaded onto other ships on the other side.
 
There were even some ships that were designed
            so the whole ship could be hauled across
            without needing to be unloaded at all.
 
This trade and transportation made the city of Corinth incredibly wealthy,
            as it could charge a tax for all the goods passing through;
and at the time of those people mentioned in our readings this morning,
            Corinth was a bustling, multicultural, and vibrant city,
            with two ports and a thriving industry.
 
When Paul gets there, he quickly teams up with a married couple,
            two Jewish Christians named Priscilla and Aquila.
Between them, they exercised the original ‘tent-making’ ministry
            by, well, quite literally making tents.
 
These days we often use this phrase, tent-making ministry,
            to describe people who have a self-supporting ministry,
where they work a normal job for their money,
            and then volunteer their time in the service of their church.
 
As churches are struggling financially, particularly in rural areas,
            this kind of ministry is becoming more and more common.
 
And as we see in our reading, it has strong precedent,
            with Paul, Priscilla, and Aquila all self-supporting missionaries
            founding the Christian congregation in Corinth.
 
After some months in Corinth, Paul then moved on
            and eventually ended up in Ephesus ,in what is now western Turkey,
and from Ephesus he had a series of correspondences with the church in Corinth,
            writing possibly as many as five letters to them,
although only two of these seem to have survived
            and made their way into our Bibles.
 
We pick up this so-called Corinthian correspondence this morning in chapter 1,
            straight after the initial greetings with which all ancient letters started.
 
And it seems that what had prompted Paul to write
            was that there were problems in Corinth
            with division in the church.
 
The issue seems to have been about which strong character
            in the leadership of the early church
            people were following.
 
Some were following Paul, some Apollos,
            some Cephas (or Peter as he was better known),
and others were just being annoyingly super-spiritual
            by saying they followed Christ, and not any human being!
 
Yeah, we’ve all met Christians like that…
 
Anyway, Paul tells them not to be so obsessed with who baptised them;
            as if it matters who did the dunking!
 
The important thing, for Paul,
            was whether they were living out
            the truth of their baptism in their daily lives.
 
I’m sure many of us can relate to this issue of hanging our faith
            onto a particular person’s ministry.
 
After all, most of us have a soft spot in our memories
            for the minister who baptised us, or nurtured us in our faith,
            or welcomed us when we turned up at church.
Maybe you even gave thanks for them a few minutes ago.
 
And most of us prefer the preaching of one person over another…
            Are you a Rob Bell person or a Brian McLaren person,
                        a Tom Wright person or a John Piper person?
            Are you a Simon person or a Nigel person,
                        Or are you a Ruth person or a Brian person,
                        a Barrie person or a Howard Williams person?
 
Can those who have come after ever measure up
            against the idealised and mythologised preachers of days gone by?
 
We all do this, and Paul points to a great danger
            in this factionalising and idolising of preachers:
The danger is that of confusing the messenger with the message.
 
So Paul says, in v.18,
            that it is the message of the cross itself which is most important,
            not the words that different preachers use to frame or communicate it.
 
And there is an ambiguity in the Greek here
            which may, or may not, be deliberate.
 
When Paul says that the message of the cross
            is ‘foolishness to those who are perishing,
            but to us who are being saved it is the power of God’,
 
it is not clear whether he is referring to the message ‘about’ the cross,
            in other words, the story of Jesus’ crucifixion;
or whether he is referring to the message ‘of’ the cross,
            what the cross itself says to us
            about who God is and how God is made known.
 
I tend to think that it is this second option that makes the most sense,
            because the message of the cross to each of us
                        is that God speaks salvation not through the words of humans,
                        but through decisive action in history in the death of Jesus.
 
If salvation is found in the message about the cross,
            that makes us mere spectators or consumers of the message.
and there is a risk of reducing our faith to passive observation
            or intellectual understanding,
which may not inspire active engagement in living out our faith.
 
But if it is found in the message of the cross,
            then we are invited into that story
as participants in what God is doing to turn the world upside down
            by realigning our understandings of power, authority, suffering, and death.
 
This perspective invites us to actively participate
            in the transformative narrative of salvation,
as we live out in the world the truth of the cross
            as the place where God fully embraces
            the depth and breadth of human experience.
 
The first-century world was very familiar with the techniques of rhetoric,
            and public speaking was regarded as something of an art form.
 
They knew what it was to be consumers of messages;
            you could go to the forum in any Roman town,
                        the equivalent of Speakers’ Corner in London,
            and hear people talking eloquently about any kind of subject you desired.
 
But Paul wants to differentiate the word of salvation
            spoken by God in the event of the cross,
from the words of those
            who would merely speak about the cross.
 
The crucifixion is not just another subject
            for public spectacle or rhetorical excellence.
It’s not a theological conundrum to be discussed,
            dissected, and debated.
 
For Paul, it is the cross itself which speaks,
            and it does so through the brute fact of its existence in history.
 
And when it speaks,
            the cross cuts through the babbling words of well-intentioned preachers,
proclaiming its own message of Christ crucified,
            of God-on-the-cross,
of the all-powerful becoming the utterly powerless.
 
The message of the cross is an ugly message of suffering,
            a controversial message of cosmic disruption,
            and a dangerous message of political and social revolution.
 
And there is nothing that can, or should, be done by preachers
            to sanitise or beautify the shock, the horror,
                        the ‘scandal’ as Paul puts it,
            of the word of the cross.
 
The communication of the power of divine love
            through the murderous and barbaric act of execution by crucifixion,
speaks directly to us of the radical lengths to which God is prepared to go
            to make God’s own love for humans known.
 
The cross speaks a message of the extent of God’s love,
            which cuts through mere human words
to send a message of forgiveness, acceptance and welcome,
            direct from God’s broken heart to ours.
 
This is the message of salvation,
            and it comes from God to me, and from God to you.
 
And so we’re back at the personal touch,
            with the valuing of each created person
            by the one who made them.
 
People matter, individuals matter.
            You matter, and I matter.
We matter to each other, and we matter to God.
 
And God loves us, and forgives us,
            and welcomes us into the new and radically constituted kingdom of God.
 
As we take our place in this kingdom
            alongside all those others who hear and respond to the word of the cross,
we play our part in the transformation of the world
            as the kingdom of God is made known on earth,
            as it is in heaven.

Turning the world upside down

A Sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church  

21 April 2024

Acts 17.1-9
1Thessalonians 1.1-10
 
For our sermon today, I have chosen the title, "turning the world upside down,"
            a concept that, as we will discover, has roots in the early days of Christianity
            but which remains as relevant as ever in our modern times.
 
As we navigate a world that often feels tumultuous
            and fraught with uncertainty,
we can find inspiration in the bold and courageous acts
            of those who have dared to challenge the status quo
            and bring about meaningful change.
 
When we think of individuals who turned the world upside down,
            names like Martin Luther King Jr., Malala Yousafzai,
            and Greta Thunberg may come to mind.
 
But in our everyday lives, we are faced with moments
            where we must choose between complacency and action.
 
We are called to draw on our faith and the teachings of Christ
            to shape our responses to these challenges.
 
As we explore this idea of "turning the world upside down,"
            let us consider how we can embrace our calling
            to be agents of transformation in our communities and beyond.
 
Over the next few minutes, we will delve into scripture,
            reflect on the wisdom of spiritual leaders,
            and look to the world around us for guidance.
 
My hope is that by the end of this sermon,
            we will all leave here feeling inspired and empowered
            to turn our own corners of the world upside down
            with love, compassion, and a deep commitment to justice.
 
But let’s be realistic, turning the world upside down
            is neither comfortable nor easy;
rather, it is threatening, and capable of triggering disproportionate responses,
            both individually and societally.
 
Just as Paul, Jason, and the others in Thessalonica
            discovered for themselves in the middle of the first century.
 
The Narrative Lectionary takes us this week
            into the world of the early Christian
            church-planting and missionary movement,
and we encounter these early pioneers proclaiming the gospel of Christ
            and discovering to their cost
                        that even the simple statement that ‘Jesus is Lord’,
                        is actually a world-shaking utterance.
 
To understand this we need a bit of context.
 
Thessalonica was a major port city
            in what is now northern mainland Greece,
and in the first century
            it was the capital of the Roman province of Macedonia.
 
Everything about the city, its religious, political, and social life
            was built around the mythology and ideology of the Roman empire.
 
Its citizens worshipped the Emperor alongside the other Roman gods;
            they benefitted from the pax Romana, the ‘peace of Rome’,
            with the Roman army permanently garrisoned in the town;
and its economic and social life
            revolved around the trade from its prosperous port
            trading with the far flung territories of the empire.
 
If you were fortunate enough to a citizen of Thessalonica,
            you were part of a carefully constructed synthesis
            of religion, politics, and economics.
 
And as Paul, Silas and Jason were about to discover,
            you mess with that at your peril!
 
As with other ancient cities from that time,
            there was a small local Jewish population,
            with a synagogue for Sabbath worship.
 
The Romans typically allowed Jews in such situations
            some measure of freedom of religion,
and Paul often started with the synagogue
            when he arrived in a new city to plant a church there.
 
But what is unusual about Thessalonica
            is that there also appears to be a large number of non-Jews
            who were nonetheless attracted to the Jewish faith.
 
Acts calls them ‘devout Greeks’ in v.4 of our reading.
 
What happens next in the story
            is that whilst Paul has limited success
                        in converting the Jews in the synagogue to believing in Jesus,
            a large number of these devout Greeks joined him.
 
It makes a kind of sense
            - these are people who want to follow the Jewish God,
            but can’t fully do so because they are not ethnically Jewish.
 
So when this Greek-speaking Jewish preacher called Paul comes along
            saying that the God of Israel
                        has reached out beyond the ethnic Jews
            to also include Gentiles
                        through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ,
            you can see why they would be attracted to his teaching.
 
However, from the perspective of Romans,
            this is a potentially dangerous situation.
 
The Jews were granted toleration in part because
            they were a non-proselytising people:
            they didn’t seek to make converts of the Gentiles.
 
But here we have a dangerous breakaway sect from Judaism
            which is aggressively conversionist in its ideology;
                        seeking converts not just from within Judaism
                        but from the Gentile world too.
 
And the problem is that converting to the worship of Jesus as Lord
            is not just a religious commitment;
            it has other far reaching ramifications too.
 
We’ve already heard how religion, politics, and economics
            were inextricably interwoven in the society of Thessalonica,
and how to change just one aspect of that
            was to risk unravelling the whole thing.
 
The risk here, posed by Paul and Silas’s preaching,
            is that if people started worshipping Jesus as Lord,
            they might stop worshipping the Emperor as Lord,
and then the Roman armies would have to step in,
            and the trade that hinged on the Empire would the threatened,
and before you knew it the whole of society was unravelling.
 
It’s no wonder that the disgruntled Jews from the synagogue
            joined with gentiles from the city
            to hunt down Paul’s associates to try and silence them:
 
They were turning the world upside down,
            politically, socially, economically, and religiously.
 
And so we have this show-trial of Jason and his friends,
            who have to pay bail to get their freedom back;
a trial intended as a stark warning of what will happen
            to those who similarly threaten the status quo of the empire.
 
But the thing is, Paul and his friends wouldn’t be silenced.
 
Even after leaving Thessalonica, Paul wrote back to them
            to encourage those Christians still in the city
            in the face of their ongoing experience of conflict.
 
Because from Paul’s perspective,
            silence wasn’t an option.
 
He looked around him at the Roman Empire,
            and saw not a sweet system of mutual benefit,
but a world dominated by an evil systemic power,
            with humanity and creation together subjected
            to the forces of violence and death.
 
For Paul, the proclamation of Jesus as Lord
            was not simply a personal message of individual salvation,
it was rather a message of good news for all people,
            for society, for the whole world…
and that was a message he couldn’t allow to be silenced.
 
And here’s the thing.
 
We are the heirs of that gospel of good news for all people,
            and we too are called to share a message
            that still has the capacity to turn the world upside down.
 
And like Paul, and Jason, and the others in Thessalonica,
            we too will discover that when we proclaim that message
            we will also face opposition.
 
Taking a stand against the idols of our age is not an easy thing to do,
            and you don’t turn the world upside down
            without rattling a few cages.
 
Bloomsbury has faced opposition over the years
            for certain stands we’ve taken and continue to take,
            and this is to be expected.
 
However, I wonder if we can hear Paul speaking to us
            through these ancient texts,
encouraging us, like he encouraged the Thessalonians,
            to persevere, to keep the faith,
            to continue in acts of radical courageous welcome,
                        and in caring for others and looking out for them.
 
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor and Nazi resistor,
            who was murdered by the Nazis on 9 April, 1945
            for his stand against Hitler and The Third Reich,
lamented how easily the church
            can become complicit with power and nationalism.
 
He said:
 
“Christianity has adjusted itself much too easily to the worship of power.
            It should give more offence, more shock to the world, than it is doing.
Christianity should . . . take a much more definite stand for the weak
            than to consider the potential moral right of the strong.”
                                                                                    London, 402-3[1]
 
Whether we are challenging the narratives of nationalism
            that lend legitimacy to state-sanctioned violence,
or the cultures of religious exclusion
            that lead some to think themselves unworthy of God’s love and acceptance,
or the unspoken collusions of class
            that declare some lives less worthy than others,
the proclamation of Jesus as Lord
            remains as politically, economically, and socially disruptive
            as it ever was in the first century.
 
So we will continue to declare the Kingdom of God
            over the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.
 
Not because we are a Christian country,
            but because Christ cares for all those who live in this country,
            and because we believe that Jesus is Lord.
 
We will continue to declare that God is love and that in God is no violence at all,
            which means that all violence is evil,
            whatever justification people may try to marshal for it.
 
We will continue to declare that all are welcome in God’s house,
            because Christ died for all, regardless of their ethnicity, social status,
            gender, sexuality, or any other marker of our common humanity.
 
And we will continue to hold the powers that be in our world to account
            whenever they place the values of the market
            over the value of human life;
we will continue to resist the myths of nationalism and British exceptionalism
            when they whisper to our self-interest,
                        suggesting that the sacrifice of the vulnerable
                        is a price worth paying for long term financial gain.
 
We are called to be the community we have been shaped to be,
            a community who love each other, look out for each other,
                        who proclaim together that Jesus is Lord of the whole earth;
            so challenging those narratives of violence, scapegoating, and fear
                        that keep people silent and subservient to the forces of domination.
 
At the end of the day, for our faith to have meaning for us,
            it has to take shape in the world,
            and that shape will be world-transforming.
 
We have a call to participate in the remaking of society,
            through partnerships such as London Citizens,
as we echo in our lives the call of Jesus to love our neighbours.
 
From the Magnificat of Jesus’ mother Mary,
            singing that through her son the world would be transformed,
the theme of reversal runs through the Christian gospel.
 
And we have a message of good news for those who have no hope,
            a message of life for those who live in fear of death,
            a message of love for those who hate either themselves or others.
 
And such a message is always a challenge to those powers
            that would keep things as they are.
 
We, like Paul, and Jason, and Silas, and Silvanus, and Timothy,
            and all the unnamed women who stood with them,
are called to seize the courage of our convictions
            and play our part in turning the world upside down.

---

[1] https://bylinetimes.com/2020/04/30/truth-must-rise-church-silence-over-covid-19/

Love that Heals

A sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church

14 April 2024

Acts 3.1-10

This week Liz and I went to the National Theatre to see the amazing play ‘Nye’,
            which tells the story of Nye Bevan,
the boy from the Valleys of South Wales
            who became the Secretary of State for Health and Social Care
            in the post-war Labour government,
and spearheaded the creation of the National Health Service.
 
It’s not a spoiler to the plot of the play to say that he succeeded,
            and I don’t think it’s a spoiler to tell one further anecdote from the play.
 
When he is sitting with his father,
            who is dying of lung disease caused by inhaling coal dust,
            Nye Bevan promises to look after ‘everyone’,
and at the end of the play,
            after he has got the National Health Service Act passed through Parliament,
            he looks out at the audience and asks the question:
‘Did I look after everyone?’
 
It’s a powerful moment,
            and it raises the question that every society has to grapple with,
                        from the first to the twenty first centuries,
            of what to do about those who are sick.
How are we to respond, financially, practically, compassionately,
            to the reality of human frailty and mortality?
 
This question is also at the heart of our reading today,
            and in our reflection on this passage from Acts,
I’d like us to think about the transformative power of faith,
            and its relevance to our lives in the modern world. [1]
 
Let's journey back to a time
            when narratives shaped people's understanding of the world,
and the story of a nameless, marginalized beggar
            unfolds at the entrance of the Temple.
 
We don't know this person’s name, gender, age, or even nationality,
            but what we do know is that they were a child of God,
                        living with a crippling disability
            and relying on the kindness of others for daily sustenance.
 
This is someone whose life is defined by disempowerment,
            by reliance on others, and by a lack of agency to take their own decisions.
 
But on this particular day,
            their life would be forever changed.
 
Enter Peter and John,
            two disciples whose lives had only recently been turned upside down
            through their encounter with the risen Christ,
and whose response to this
            had been to root themselves in prayer and devotion to God.
 
In their encounter with the person begging by the temple gate,
            they demonstrate the power of healing through the name of Jesus Christ,
offering the beggar a precious gift that transcends material wealth.
 
Peter and John, not possessing money to give,
            offer something far more valuable -
they give the beggar at the gate a gift of healing,
            one that serves as a beacon of hope
            for all who seek solace in the power of faith.
 
This story is a testament to the profound impact
            that faith can have in a person’s life, both then and now.
 
We live in a world where many people, myself included,
            struggle to believe in the miracles of healing
            performed in the name of Jesus Christ.
 
In our world healing, for most of us,
            takes place in our lives through medical care,
            through Nye Bevan’s health service.
 
Yet, friends, the healing power of faith
            is not bound by time, space, or the confines of the material world.
These stories cannot be consigned to some pre-enlightenment society
            and dismissed as inconsequential for us today.
 
Because the healing power of faith transcends the barriers of time and place,
            reaching into our world, too.
 
I do very much think that in our 21st century church,
            we must remain open to the work of the Holy Spirit
            and acknowledge the presence of Jesus Christ in our lives.
 
Our faith in God is not merely a metaphor,
            and neither is our belief that Jesus is with us by his Spirit
            in ways that bring healing and wholeness to the world.
 
The way in which we frame that conviction, of course,
            will be a product of our time,
just as the way it was framed for Peter and John
            was a product of their time.
 
Disability takes many forms, as does healing.
            And we need to tread carefully when we speak of such things.
 
The social model of disability is a conceptual framework
            that shifts the focus from viewing disability as an individual's limitation,
            to understanding it as a societal issue.
 
It recognizes that disability is not inherent in the person
            but is a result of barriers and exclusion
            present in the environment, attitudes, and structures of society.
 
We need to keep alert to the difference between impairment and disability,
            and the social model distinguishes between impairment,
                        which refers to the physical, sensory,
                        or cognitive difference in an individual;
            and disability, which is the disadvantage or restriction imposed by society
                        due to the lack of inclusion and accessibility.
 
This means that it becomes a communal responsibility
            to remove barriers and adjust structures
            to enable full participation of individuals with impairments.
 
This includes, for example,
            providing accessible public spaces, transportation, and services.
 
The reason I’m drawn to the social model
            is that it promotes the empowerment and self-determination
                        of people with disabilities,
            by actively involving them in decision-making processes
                        that affect their lives,
            seeking to challenge negative attitudes, stereotypes, and prejudices
                        that contribute to the marginalization of people with disabilities.
 
It also encourages collaboration
            among people with disabilities, their allies, and various organizations
            to work towards an inclusive and barrier-free society.
 
So healing, in a contemporary context,
            for a person with a physical impairment,
may not be the removal of that impairment itself,
            but rather the removal of the obstacles to full inclusion
            within the communities that they are a part of.
 
But thinking more broadly for a moment than simply physical disability,
            a person may suffer from psychological and spiritual impairments,
            from misaligned faith or spiritual poverty.
These too can be mechanisms of exclusion,
            disabling in their outworking.
 
For such a person,
            healing might begin with the recognition of their own vulnerabilities,
and the understanding that true identity and fulfilment
            come from the unshakable foundation of Jesus Christ,
rather than from say, material wealth or worldly success.
 
Sometimes, freeing a person from their addictions
            can be the great act of healing that they need.
 
We can learn here from the example set by Peter and John,
            listening to the voice of the Holy Spirit,
addressing our own need for spiritual healing,
            and offering comfort and hope to those in need.
 
By doing so, we build a strong foundation for our faith,
            and create a community of faith
            within which healing and wholeness can flourish,
as people experience the transformative healing
            that flows from a relationship with Jesus Christ.
 
Together, as a community of believers,
            we can support one another on our journey
            toward a deeper, more meaningful faith,
and extend this healing grace to the world around us.
 
So let’s look a little more closely to the story of the beggar
            sitting at the entrance of the Temple, known as the "Beautiful Gate."
 
Reserved for esteemed visitors,
            this gate provides a backdrop for the profound interaction
            between the beggar and two disciples, Peter and John.
 
It is at this gate that the beggar, marginalized and in need,
            musters the courage to ask for help.
 
The beggar's initiative to engage with Peter and John
            challenges us to reflect on our own interactions
            with those who are less fortunate.
 
How often have we encountered individuals in need
            and simply offered a quick fix, a temporary solution
            that fails to address the root cause of their struggle?
 
As Christians, we must recognize that our ministry extends
            beyond momentary acts of charity;
we are called to pray and work for lasting healing
            and to empower individuals to reach their full potential.
 
Christian charity can all too easily become ‘toxic’,
            where our desire to meet another person’s needs
                        ends up perpetuating their dependence,
                        rather than procuring their liberation.
 
It’s not for nothing that the golden rule of community organising
            is to never do for someone else
            what they have the capacity to do for themselves.
 
Our calling in the face of need is not to engage in charity,
            so much as it is to build capacity
and create a context within which the person’s physical, social, economic,
            psychological, or emotional impairment
ceases to disable them from full participation in society.
 
In the case of the nameless beggar,
            Peter and John do not simply offer a handout;
they respond with the healing power of faith.
 
The beggar, once crippled and dependent on others,
            experiences a profound transformation
and is now able to "walk, leap, and praise God" (Acts 3:8).
 
This miraculous moment of healing
            not only restores physical health
but also revitalizes the beggar's spirit,
            enabling them to engage fully in the world around them.
 
So too then, we are called to emulate
            the profound compassion and faith demonstrated by Peter and John.
 
We must remain present and engaged
            in our ministerial, evangelical, missional,
            and transformational calling to the world.
 
As we encounter those in need,
            let us remember to offer not only material assistance
                        but also prayers for healing, guidance,
                        and the strength to overcome adversity.
 
It’s our calling to build a community
            that reflects the transformative love and grace of God,
where those excluded by others
            are included in the name of Christ,
where those disabled by society
            are enabled by the Spirit of the Living God through the body of Christ
 
By addressing the exclusions faced by those who are marginalized,
            and through empowering them to rise up
                        and enter into their full capacity for life,
            we create a lasting impact
                        that extends far beyond momentary acts of charity.
 
Just as Peter and John displayed unwavering faith
            and compassionate ministry so many centuries ago,
so too we can create a world that is more loving, more inclusive,
            and more reflective of the divine presence that unites us all.
 
So, we must ask ourselves:
            How can we, as a church community,
                        address the pressing issues of our time
            and ensure that our ministry practices
                        extend beyond mere charity?
 
The world today faces numerous challenges
            relating to health and wellbeing,
from unequal access to healthcare services,
            particularly in low-income and underserved communities;
to the rise in non-communicable diseases
            such as diabetes, cardiovascular diseases, and cancer;
to increasingly prevalent mental health issues
            with a growing need for improved awareness, prevention, and treatment;
to emerging and re-emerging infectious diseases;
            to the world's aging population;
to a global shortage of healthcare workers;
            to environmental factors such as climate change and pollution.
 
Addressing these challenges requires collaborative efforts
            from governments, healthcare organizations, and communities worldwide
            to develop innovative solutions and promote health equity.
 
And the mission of the church is to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ by all means,
            including healthcare and social justice initiatives.
 
This is why Christian Aid, who we have long supported here at Bloomsbury,
            put so much emphasis on health and wellbeing
            in the work that they do around the globe.
 
We will be welcoming a guest speaker from Christian Aid in a few weeks,
            and I’m sure they will tell of how, in the name of Jesus and on our behalf,
            they are bringing healing and wholeness
            to people trapped in disease and disability.
 
However, we must acknowledge
            that the church has sometimes fallen short of its calling
            to be a transformative and healing presence in the world.
 
And so I wonder about the potential for ministry
            that this story from the book of Acts presents us with.
 
What would it mean for us to consider the profound connection
            between prayer and healing,
and to take seriously how our prayers
            can inspire us to take action in the face of adversity.
 
I think it is true that when we open our hearts, minds, and eyes
            to the possibilities of healing,
we become better equipped to serve those in need,
            and to create lasting change in their lives and our own lives.
 
It is crucial that we, as a Christian community of faithful people,
            continue to address the systemic inequalities
            that contribute to the suffering of marginalized populations.
 
We must speak out against the unjust distribution of resources
            and advocate for the rights and wellbeing of all people,
            regardless of their socioeconomic status.
 
People of colour, and people of low socio-economic background
            have, statistically speaking, worse health outcomes.
Marginalisation, racism, and poverty
            are literally killing people in our country, and in our city.
 
By taking prayerful action to address these,
            we honour the legacy of Peter and John,
who, through their faith and compassion,
            healed the crippled beggar at the Beautiful Gate.
 
This powerful narrative is a call to action,
            for us to embrace the healing power of prayer,
and allow it to guide us as we work
            to create a more just, equitable, and compassionate world.
 
Together, we can ensure that our Christian ministry
            extends beyond charity
and fosters true transformation
            and renewal in the lives of those we serve.
 
In closing, I think we need to note a duality present in this story.
 
On one hand, we witness the incredible healing power of faith and compassion,
            as demonstrated by Peter and John.
 
On the other hand, we are confronted with a critique of the modern church,
            which often neglects its missional calling to serve and bring healing
            to those on the margins of society.
 
Today, many churches have retreated to the affluent suburbs,
            inadvertently leaving behind the very people who need them most.
 
Yet it is surely to the deprived areas that we are called,
            areas home to the marginalized and vulnerable
                        to immigrants, widows, orphans,
                                    the abused, drug addicts, the elderly,
                        and yes, to those who beg, to those who are homeless
            we are called to those
                        who long for a message of hope and authentic living.
 
As a church in the city centre,
            we have to be alert to the needs on our doorstep,
            and to the injustices experienced by those who come through our doors.
 
The story of the healing at the beautiful gate
            challenges us to question our role as a church in the 21st century.
 
Are we truly attentive to the needs of the sick and suffering?
 
Do we view all people as beloved children of God,
            deserving of love, respect, and equal treatment?
 
These are crucial questions that demand our attention and reflection.
 
As a liberal and inclusive church,
            let us heed the call to serve those
            who are often overlooked and marginalized.
 
Let us embody the spirit of Peter and John,
            who courageously reached out to the beggar at the Beautiful Gate,
offering not only physical healing
            but also spiritual restoration and belonging.
 
May we commit ourselves to a ministry
            that is driven not by competition or the pursuit of success,
but by the unwavering love and compassion of Jesus Christ.
 
And in doing so, we can create a church
            that truly reflects the transformative power of faith
            and the boundless love of God for all people.
 

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[1] This sermon draws on the commentary by Israel Kamudzandu on the Working Preacher website. https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/narrative-lectionary/peter-heals-in-jerusalem-2/commentary-on-acts-31-10-2