|
Ah, nicknames. Sometimes they
can be funny…like Pookey, Peanut or Pee-diddle. Sometimes
they can be a problem. I am forever explaining why people
call me Jack when my real name is John, while relatives who
still can’t tell me apart from my twin keep calling me
“Twin” or Jim. And, of course, his name is really James.
Sometimes nicknames can be very
special. In our family, we still call our son David “DD”
because that’s what he first called himself. And one of my
cherished memories is of my grandfather, the only person who
ever called him “Davy.”
Nicknames. Sometimes they are a
necessity, and sometimes they are just right. That must have
been the case with this one named Joseph. Evidently, there
were so many Joes in the early church, the disciples first
identified him by his nationality…he’s the ethnic minority
person, you know, the one from Cyprus. Then they called him
by his middle name, Barnabas. They called him that, as well,
because it was exactly who he was—Son of consolation, Son of
refreshment, Son of encouragement.
That’s Barnabas, all right.
Generous, caring, encouraging, open-handed, helpful,
supporting others in their journey of faith and enabling
others to be in ministry. Luke says Barnabas sold a field
and brought the proceeds to the apostle—like so much
rummage, I suppose—in order to build up, to support the
work. Maybe we would say to “nurture and equip.”
Barnabas. What a great name! I
always thought if I ever had the chance to name a church, I
would name it after St. Barnabas—the community of
consolation, the congregation of refreshment, the company of
those who encourage one another, build each other up.
Because we all need “Barnabases” in our lives, don’t we? We
all need a Son of encouragement once in awhile. Lloyd John
Ogilvie says: “The world is filled with discouraged people
who desperately need the friendship of one who encourages.”
(Drumbeat of Love, page 67)
Thank God for Barnabas!
By way of contrast, Luke sets
Barnabas side by side with Mr. and Mrs. Ananias and Sapphira.
Also, by way of contrast, I have never known of a church
named for them. Luke holds them side by side and the point
is obvious: Barnabas is the one who found the way.
1. Barnabas discovered
the true value of things.
He discovered what mattered
most, and as a result, he put everything in its proper
perspective.
Let’s be clear up front. The
Bible does not say “things,” “wealth” and “money” don’t
matter or are not important. In fact, it’s just the
opposite. One-third of all of Jesus’ parables have to do
with our relationship to material things. The Bible tells us
they are vitally important, that they matter a great deal.
Evidently, Barnabas learned their true value, their true
worth. Evidently, Barnabas learned that every good gift
comes from God and, therefore, he accepted that all he had
was a gracious gift of God’s grace. Evidently, he learned to
appreciate the true value of all he possessed as a sacred
trust from God. And in that light, material things are not
of less value, they are of infinitely more value, eternal
value, sacred worth.
Think back a year to the
devastation of Katrina. How often did we hear survivors say
things like, “We lost everything, but our kids and family
are safe.” How often did we hear something like, “Now we
know what matters most.” But tell me, why does it take a
disaster to teach us this simple lesson?
Remember the story Jesus told of
the farmer who had a bumper crop—great harvest, bountiful
season. So the farmer said to himself, “Self, what
shall we do? I know, I’ll build me some bigger barns… keep
it, hold it, hoard it all.” And Jesus said, “Thou
fool…tonight your soul will be required of thee, then whose
will all these things be?” (Luke 12:18)
When you realize you could lose
the whole harvest overnight, you’ve learned how precious all
these things really are. Then you discover that it’s the
soul harvest which matters most, and if your soul is in the
right place, you will value all things with new appreciation
and worth. Barnabas learned to hold everything gently, in
open hands, as a sacred trust from God.
This is the root of
authentic Christian stewardship—to realize that I
am, in fact, a “steward,” a caretaker of the bounty God has
entrusted to me. And in that light, “things” become more
important than ever since, in fact, they come from God.
I realize we approach this
season of commitment during a troubling time in Michigan. It
is a time of anxiety, a time of stress, a time of
uncertainty. But this kind of a day can also be a time when
we reassess the priorities of our lives, determine the
things that matter most, learn the true value of things.
Barnabas found the way—the way
to value all he had received as a gift from God.
2. Barnabas found the way
to generosity.
You see, the problem is that
troubling times, difficult economic realities, or upheavals
in our industries can sometimes push us in exactly the
opposite direction. Instead of teaching us new appreciation
for material things, they can drive us to selfishness and
greed, hoarding and holding, narrowing our lives to the
point that “things” take on even less value. The antidote is
a spirit of generosity.
Barnabas found the way—the way
to generous living. He found the way to use what he had
received from God to encourage, to console, to refresh.
If you track the journey of
Barnabas through the book of Acts, he always shows up in the
same frame:
- Following
the conversion of Saul into Paul, he is the one who makes
the way of welcome, who introduces him to the community of
the faithful. (Acts 9:26-27)
- In
Judea, he is the one who carries the relief offering to the
suffering Christians…a symbol of the open hearts
of the disciples. (Acts 11:29-30)
- In
Antioch he serves with Paul, assisting others in their
ministry, opening minds to the Gospel. (Acts
11:22-26)
- In
Jerusalem, he is there at the first conference, arguing for
the inclusion of the Gentiles in the community…opening
the doors for the outsiders. (Acts 15:1-31)
Opening hearts, opening minds,
opening doors….has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?
Here, in this first incident,
it’s Barnabas who models Christian generosity, modeling the
life of the community where Luke says “…they were of one
heart, and one soul…they had everything in common; they sold
everything they had and brought it to the Apostles and there
was not a needy person among them.” (Acts 4:32)
(A parentheses here: It’s
interesting that the folks who want to take the Bible
“literally” never seem to want to take this passage
literally. I am not suggesting we should. But I am
suggesting the Bible should be taken seriously….learning
the lessons of caring and compassion, sharing and
generosity, so that all might have enough.)
So Barnabas sells a field and
brings the proceeds for the ministry of Christ. And when
Ananias and Sapphira see it, they think they will try it,
too. But instead, they hold something back for
themselves—deceptive, greedy, clutching, lining their own
pockets. Call them the Jack Abramoff of the first century
church, I suppose—wanting to look good rather than do good;
doing for others, but doing for themselves first. They
wanted, like Barnabas, to be known for their generosity, but
didn’t want to pay the price. And when the truth comes out,
they are so shocked, they drop down dead! Because, you see,
when you grab and clutch and hold, your life shrivels and
your soul dies.
Looking at nicknames again, the
real tragedy here is that Ananias actually means “gracious”
and Sapphira actually means “beautiful,” but their lives
were exactly the opposite, and they end in death.
Eugene Peterson has done a
contemporary paraphrase of the scriptures which catches the
power of some of the passages we have heard so often they
have lost their punch. Here is his translation of Jesus’
words from Luke’s version of the “Sermon on the Mount.”
Maybe Luke was remembering this when he told the story of
Barnabas and Mr. and Mrs. Ananias. Jesus said:
Give away your life; you’ll find
life given back to you, but not merely given back—given back
with bonus and blessing. Generosity begets generosity.
Giving, not getting, is the way. (Luke 6:38)
Barnabas found the way—the
way to the true value of things, the way of generosity, the
way of life.
This week we had dinner with a
dear friend, celebrating his 73rd birthday. His life has not
always been easy. A childhood accident left him blind in one
eye. The early death of his father left him to be raised by
his mother and grandfather. More recently, the untimely
death of his beloved wife left him alone just as he was
ready to retire. But he never complains; he is always
radiant, full of joy and love. He was successful in his
business, and today his life as a grandfather brings him
unbounded joy. As we talked, he brought it home with his
standard message. I have heard it over and over it again,
and I knew that our time together would not end without it.
It’s a message he implanted in the hearts and minds of my
sons as well as his own:
In my business, I have been more
blessed than I ever expected or ever deserved. But the one
thing I have always tried to do is pass it on…pass on the
blessings. That’s where you find real joy. If you’ve been
blessed, find a way to pass on the blessings to others.
My friend Bill found the
way.
Barnabas found the way.
Back in the ’70s when I was in
seminary, it was another time of turmoil—a time of unrest, a
time of uncertainty, a time of a conflicted war and a
struggling economy. At Asbury Seminary we started what has
become a 34-year-old tradition, a Christian music festival
called ICHTHUS. It draws over ten thousand youth
every summer. In one of those early years, the climax of the
event focused on a then-popular song. It could be the theme
song for Barnabas, Son of Encouragement, Saint of
Generosity:
The road is long, with many a
winding turn
Which leads us to who knows where, who knows where;
But I’m strong, strong enough to carry him.
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.
So on we go. His welfare is
my concern.
No burden is he to bear, we’ll get there.
For I know, he would not encumber me.
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.
If I’m laden at all, I’m
laden with sadness
That everyone’s heart isn’t filled with the gladness
Of love for one another.
It’s a long, long road, from
which there is no return.
While we’re on our way to there, why not share?
And the load doesn’t weigh me down at all.
He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.
(Sidney Russell and Robert Stack)
Note: Special thanks to
Joe Armijo, our music director for Sunday Night Alive, for
ending the sermon with a wonderful rendition of “He Ain’t
Heavy.”
|
