Second Sunday after Epiphany
January 19, 2025

Carry This with You

Tom Are Jr.
Interim Pastor

2 Timothy 3:10–17
Acts 7:1–4, 9–15, 30–34, 54

Stephen stood before the council. He knew how this was going to end. They would stone him to death. Why should he be any different? John the Baptist had been murdered. Jesus had been crucified. Why would it be any different for Stephen? He was in the storm now. When everything is on the line, Stephen responds by telling his story. By his story, I mean the story of his faith.

And what I notice is that, with everything he has to stay, I can’t find one hint of fear in him. I want to be like that. It would be nice not to be afraid anymore, wouldn’t it?

Stephen was chosen by the church to take care of those in the church family who were in need. It is this Stephen who provides the inspiration for our Stephen Ministry, a ministry of care. Stephen Ministry is a vital ministry here at Fourth Church and is inspired by Stephen, who was called to care for his church family.

Stephen wasn’t a preacher, but he was a witness. The Greek word translated “witness” is martyr. From the earliest days of the church there has been a relationship between bearing witness to the love of God in Jesus Christ and martyrdom. In Greek they are the same word.

Stephen is in the storm now. The powers of the world stand against him, and what does he do? He tells his story.

He tells of Abraham, sent to a land he could not see but a land that God promised to give his progeny. Abraham left behind life as he had known it, based on nothing more than a promise and a trust that God knows more about what home is than we do. So he followed.

He tells of Joseph, sold by his brothers into slavery. Joseph rose up in Pharaoh’s court, and when famine struck the land, Joseph had a chance to gain revenge on these men, but he chose forgiveness instead. He gave them a chance to be better men than their own history would suggest they were.

Stephen tells of Moses, confronted by God at the burning bush. Moses would stand up to Pharaoh’s brutality and lead God’s people from bondage.

This is the story he carries with him. As the crowd, incensed by this testimony, began selecting their stones, Stephen’s last words were “do not hold this sin against them.” If you don’t recognize that language, these are words Jesus spoke from the cross. “Forgive them for they do not know what they do.”

Stephen does not tell the story of Jesus, but the story of Jesus lives in Stephen. And there is not a hint of fear in him.

Now, I am grateful that even though every generation has its martyrs, it is not likely to come to us. Not all at once anyway. But I still find this passage instructive, because everyone finds themselves in the storm.

When Stephen faces crisis, he leans on a story that he has always carried with him. It is the story that reveals the truth that he knows. The men of the council believe they control this moment, but Stephen said, “I see Jesus at the right hand of God. It is not you but he who is Lord of this moment. This moment does not belong to you; this moment belongs to God.”

This moment reminds me of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. You know of Bonhoeffer and his courage in the face a Nazi Germany. Like Stephen, Bonhoeffer also saw his life defined by this story. From Tegel prison, Bonhoeffer wrote this poem:

Who am I? They often tell me
I would step from my cell’s confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a squire from his country house.

Who am I? They often tell me
I would talk to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly
as though it were mine to command.

…

Am I then really that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself?
Restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
Struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat. …

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine.
(Dietrich Bonhoeffer, “Who Am I?” in Letters and Papers from Prison, p. 347)

Like Stephen, Bonhoeffer declares “My life is defined by God.”

What Stephen teaches us is that our moments of crisis, our time in the storm, stands not in isolation but in a long line of what God has done through the years. God was there with Abraham and every day led him toward a promise.

God was there with Joseph and gave him the capacity to choose forgiveness.

God was there with Moses, pushing back oppression and making a way out of no way.

And Stephen confesses now, “God is here with me, and you can cast your stones, but God will raise me up. This moment does not belong to you; it belongs to God. For Jesus is Lord.”

As you know, before coming to Fourth Church, I served the saints of the Village Church in Kansas City. Kansas City is pretty serious University of Kansas basketball territory. And shortly after we moved there my friend Brant gave me a couple tickets to a KU basketball game. He said, “Take Nathan, and be sure you get there in time for the ‘movie.’” What movie?

Nathan went to see the game; I went to be with Nathan. We arrived in time for the “movie.” It’s on the big box with music playing loudly. In a few moments they show the history of KU basketball. James Naismith is there. He invented basketball in Springfield, Massachusetts, and shortly thereafter became the first basketball coach at Kansas. Fogg Allen is in the video. After all, it’s his house. Wilt Chamberlain makes his hook shot. Danny Manning is there for the ’88 championship. And, of course, Mario’s miracle, which sent the ’08 championship game into overtime. It’s all there.

The point is clear. You may think you are there for a single game, but there is more going on. Tonight is only a small piece in a long story, and unless you see that there is something bigger than just a Tuesday night game in December against Emporia State you don’t understand what this moment is about.

That is how Stephen sees his life. This moment, that you think you control, is just a small moment in a long story of God’s work of redemption in this world. And because Stephen knows that, he is not afraid.

Tomorrow President Trump will be sworn in as our president. Some will say America will be saved. Others will say much of what has historically made America America will be at risk. I love this country, and I recognize there is so much at stake, but I hope I make sense to you when I say that what happens tomorrow does not define my life. My politics matter a lot to me, but there is a story that is larger than my citizenship in this nation; it is my citizenship in God’s promised day. And I will choose to remember on Monday that Jesus sits at the right hand of the Father. That is our story.

And I will be remembering another witness, Martin Luther King Jr., whom we remember this week. He too, like Stephen, when he faced the crisis proclaimed the story that he carried with him. He faced fire hoses and bombing with calls to love. He endured jail time singing “Precious Lord.” He told oppressed people that he had been to the mountaintop, and he had seen a land we have never known, but a land of promise that God will provide. And like Stephen, when he faced hatred that would have broken many, he stood tall and trusted that Jesus was on the right hand of God and in time all will be redeemed.

I am not that courageous or unafraid, but I want to be.

It’s good to remember — as most of us will not face hoses or jail or bombings, but you will find yourself from time to time in the middle of the storm — and when you do, it is good to remember the story that defines you. There will be moments when you will need to remind yourself “I don’t have to be afraid, because Jesus is Lord, and this moment belongs to God.”

I learned this from Max. He was Stacy’s father. She was just sixteen. Leukemia attacked not only her body but also the heart of her entire family. The last time I spoke with her was an Easter Sunday, which she spent in ICU. That evening she grew worse. Within a week the machines were turned off. She never took another breath. We gathered around her bed and read “nothing separates us from the love of God” and “I go to prepare a place for you, and I will come again and take you to myself.” We sang “Abide with Me.” I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless.

Stacy’s daddy held her lifeless hand. When it comes to being a daddy of a sixteen-year-old girl, daddies never know what to do. We never know what to say. We are at a loss more times than not. We just know we would do anything to protect them. We would do anything to protect them.

But she died while he held her hand. And with his heart spilling over with grief, he said, “Tom, I was so afraid that when this moment came I might not believe in heaven. I have never needed to trust in heaven before, but now that it matters more than anything I am confident that she is in heaven. Scripture says nothing can separate us from the love of God. Tom, if I had the power, I would refuse to let death take her. If I had the power I would shout death down and declare, ‘She does not belong to you, she belongs to love.’ Surely God loves her as much as I do. Surely God will not let death take her from him.”

Sometimes it is not until the crisis comes that we realize that this is the story that defines us. And in the face of that which seems to come to break us, to defeat us, it is helpful to remember that we are part of this story of God’s redemption as well. This story claims us. Every moment of your life is the stage on which God is working redemption. The days of your life do not live in isolation, but you are part of a long story that reaches back through the generations, and to know the truth of any given moment you need to carry that story with you.

Sermon © Fourth Presbyterian Church