In the last days before the final vote in the Senate on the health care bill, I heard yet another story on the radio about people who had gathered in Washington, D.C. to express their support for or their opposition to the bill. The reporter said that the demonstrators had pretty much kept to themselves; supporters of the bill on one side of the street, protestors on the other. But at one point, for some unknown reason, someone crossed the street, and that’s when things got ugly. The reporter caught some of the exchange on tape.
“What’s the matter with you?” one angry voice shouted.
“You must be a total idiot!” countered the other.
These two people weren’t just a little upset; they were apoplectic. Their voices were hoarse and filled with fury. It was extremely unpleasant to listen to, even over the radio. Had I been there to witness it, I would have been sure that violence was going to break out. Clearly, these people had no business talking to each other because there is no way either of them is going to change the other’s mind. Their views are set in stone. Immovable. Unchangeable.
Our two main characters in today’s story from Acts represented two sides of a debate as polarized as our current political climate. On one side of the street there was Saul, the number one persecutor of the earliest followers of Jesus. When Jesus was crucified the high priest and the temple leadership hoped that would take care of his radical ideas once and for all. But even with Jesus gone, his pesky followers were still showing up all over the place, speaking in tongues, preaching in public, saying that Jesus had risen from the dead and ascended to heaven. It was the worst kind of blasphemy and Saul, a brilliant, ambitious, and faithful young Jew, had made it his personal mission to shut up these followers of Jesus. In his mind they were completely misinformed and downright heretical.
Today’s story from Acts isn’t the first time we hear about Saul. He shows up at the stoning of Stephen, and though it’s not clear if he actually participates in this murder, the text clearly states that he approves of it. Then we hear that Saul “was ravaging the church by entering house after house; dragging off both men and women, he committed them to prison.” (Acts 8:3)
In today’s story, Saul is on his way up to Damascus with warrants in his hand, breathing threats and murder -- yes, murder! -- against Jesus’ followers. He is a man with a mission, as driven and determined as any one of the impassioned tea partiers making headlines today.
So, on one side of the street we have Saul of Tarsus. On the other side of the street we have Ananias, about whom we know little. All we’re told is that he lived in Damascus and was a disciple of the Lord Jesus. We can be reasonably sure, though, that Ananias was absolutely convinced of two things: one, that Jesus is Lord and two, that Saul of Tarsus is his worst enemy.
Saul’s views about the followers of Jesus and Ananias’ views about Saul were set in stone. Immovable. Unchangeable. Clearly these were two people who should be kept as far apart as possible. Put them together on the same side of the street and you could almost guarantee violence would break out.
So, picture Saul, simmering with rage, crossing the street, going as fast as he can to Damascus, ready to take down those Jesus lovers once and for all. But instead of a clash between two immovable, unchangeable opponents, there is a flash of blinding light and a voice from heaven: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”
“Why do I persecute you?” Saul might have said if he wasn’t rendered speechless and sightless. “Because I serve the Lord God, the God of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob, and you and your followers are ruining my people’s understanding of who God is! I’m not just going to sit idly by while that happens!”
Now picture Ananias, faithful and confident, going about his business, not looking for confrontation with anyone, when suddenly Jesus appears, saying, “Get up and go find Saul of Tarsus and lay hands on him so that he can see again, because he is the one who will preach the gospel to the Gentiles.”
“I must have misheard you, Lord,” we can imagine Ananias saying politely. “Because it kind of sounded like you said Saul of Tarsus, who would probably kill me if I tried to touch him and who couldn’t possibly preach the gospel to anyon. He doesn’t even believe you are the Lord! How could he preach anything except bigotry and hatred?”
I can just see Jesus smiling gently at the sightless Saul, now groping in the dark, and at Ananias, completely incredulous...smiling at them and marveling at how hard it is for human beings to believe that God’s love and grace really does extend even to our worst enemies. Then Jesus says to both of them, “Trust me, and do as I say.” And with that, the immovable, unchangeable is changed...by God. Ananias goes to Saul, lays hands on him, heals him, baptizes him. Saul’s murderous rage against Jesus’ followers transforms into a passionate zeal as he preaches the gospel far and wide to people he once believed were on the wrong side of God’s story.
*****
They just might have played the oddest game in Texas high school football history last year down in Grapevine, Texas. The game was between Grapevine Faith and Gainesville State School, and everything about it was upside down. For instance, when Gainesville came out to take the field, the Faith fans made a 40-yard spirit line for them to run through. You heard right. The other team’s fans. They even made a banner for players to crash through that read "Go Tornadoes!" Which is also weird, since Grapevine Faith’s mascot is a Lion. There were even 200 Grapevine fans who sat on the Gainesville side, cheering for the Gainesville players—by name.
"I never in my life thought I'd hear people cheering for us to tackle their kids," recalls Gainesville's quarterback, Isaiah. "But they wanted us to!"
And even though Faith won 33-14, the Gainesville kids were so happy that after the game they gave head coach a squirt-bottle shower like he'd just won state.
But then you saw the police officers escorting the 14 Gainesville players off the field. They lined the players up in groups of five—handcuffs ready in their back pockets—and marched them to the team bus. You see, Gainesville State is a maximum-security correctional facility.
The strangeness that night in Texas all started when Faith's head coach, Kris Hogan, wanted to do something nice for the Gainesville team. Faith had never played Gainesville, but he already knew the score. After all, Faith was 7-2 going into the game, while Gainesville was 0-8 with 2 touch downs all year. Faith has 70 kids, 11 coaches, the latest equipment and involved parents. Gainesville has a lot of kids with convictions for drugs, assault and robbery wearing seven-year-old shoulder pads and ancient helmets. Many of these kids families had disowned them, some long before they ended up in prison.
So Coach Hogan had this idea. What if half of our fans—for one night only—cheered for the other team? In an email the Coach asked half of the the Faith parents to do just that. "Here's the message I want you to send:" Hogan wrote. "You are just as valuable as any other person on planet Earth."
Some people were naturally confused. One Faith player walked into Hogan's office and asked, "Coach, why are we doing this?"
"Imagine if you didn't have a home life,” the coach said. “Imagine if everybody had pretty much given up on you. Now imagine what it would mean for hundreds of people to suddenly believe in you."
And the next thing you know, the Gainesville Tornadoes were turning around on their bench to see something they’d never seen before. Hundreds of fans.
"I thought maybe they were confused," said Alex, a Gainesville lineman. "They started yelling 'DEE-fense!' when their team had the ball. I said, 'What? Why they cheerin' for us?'"
It was a strange experience for teenagers who had grown used to people crossing the street to avoid them. "We can tell people are a little afraid of us when we come to the games," says Gerald, a lineman who will spend three years at Gainesville State. "You can see it in their eyes. They're lookin' at us like we're criminals. But these people, they were yellin' for us! By our names!"
After the game, both teams gathered in the middle of the field to pray and that's when Isaiah, one of the kids going back to prison, surprised everybody by asking to lead the prayer. “We had no idea what the kid was going to say," remembers Coach Hogan. But Isaiah said this: "Lord, I don't know how this happened, so I don't know how to say thank You, but I never would've known there was so many people in the world that cared about us."
As they made they way to the bus, the Gainesville coach saw Hogan, grabbed him hard by the shoulders and said, "You'll never know what your people did for these kids tonight. You'll never, ever know."
As the Gainesville kids got on the bus, they received gift bags with food, a Bible, and letter from a player on the opposing team. As the bus pulled away, all the Gainesville players crammed to one side and pressed their hands to the window, staring at these people they'd never met before, who for one night made the feel as valuable as every other person on the planet. (1)
We live in a divided world. It is so tempting to believe that the world is composed of us and them, to think that there is right and wrong and that these categories are set in stone. But we are the beloved children of the living God, whose Son moved the stone away from his own tomb and walked out of it. We are followers of the risen Lord, who commands us to see the world all people in it differently. There is no us and them, there is only us. And when the scales fall from our eyes by God’s grace, we are called to share the good news that every person on this planet is equally loved and valued by God, no matter what side we’ve been on in the past, no matter what mistakes we’ve made.
Unchangeable? Immovable? Set in stone? Not with God. With God, all things are possible. Amen.
Endnotes:
1. Read the original story by Rick Reilly here.
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Rick Reilly is one of my favorite columnist and immensely talented.
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