“The Truth Can Be Deadly”

Acts 7:54-60

Previously I have referred to “Buzz” Thomas’ book 10 Things Your Minister Wants to Tell You (But Can’t Because He Needs the Job). The content isn’t pertinent to this morning’s sermon but the title is. Good ministers have been fired because they dared speak the truth from the pulpit.

But there’s speaking the truth, and then there’s speaking the truth. Karl Barth wrote that just because you find yourself in the lion’s den you don’t have to twist the lion’s tail. Tact, discretion, and maturity are necessary in the pulpit. One must pick one’s battles. It’s one thing to risk unemployment as a matter of integrity. It’s quite another to get yourself fired because of stupidity.

That maturity thing is important. About ten years ago, as the staff met with the Personnel Committee of the Mountain Valley Presbyterian Parish, a seminary intern named Tammy Wiens taught me a lesson. I was on my high horse, passionately objecting to something that I thought was ridiculous. I was being a bit of a poo-head. In the midst of my little tirade Tammy said, “O David, grow up!”

That was advice well given and thankfully well taken. I did need to be less defensive. I did need to stop taking things so personally. By the grace of God I have mellowed quite a bit. We should all be glad.

Case in point: In last year’s Annual Review the committee suggested that I avoid political topics from the pulpit. This is a volatile time in American politics. Feelings are running high. Sometimes discretion really is the better part of valor. The advice was good.

But I didn’t think so the first time I read it. Fortunately by the time I sat down with the committee my person-to-person verbal response was much softer and more level headed than the reply I had almost e-mailed them. I like to think that my ultimate response was a reasonable defense of the Reformed tradition of freedom of the pulpit. There are times when sensitive or controversial political and other issues need to be addressed from the pulpit: prayerfully, fairly, intelligently, with pastoral sensitivity, and always informed primarily by Scripture.

But the preacher has to realize that preaching controversial sermons, even sermons that are possessed of the highest theological and biblical integrity and are preached with the best of pastoral intentions, can lead to an angry backlash. But sometimes, even knowing that all hell is going to break loose, one must say things from the pulpit that people do not want to hear. The problem with fulfilling the prophetic role to which a pastor is called, no matter how pastorally one goes about it, almost always involves saying things that people don’t want to hear. Nathan said them to David. Elijah said them to Ahab and Jezebel. Amos said them to King Jeroboam of Israel and the high priest Amaziah, even after being told not to. John the Baptist said them to Herod. Jesus said them to the Pharisees. The early Apostles said them to a lot of people.

John Calvin was told not to say certain things; he did anyway. So did Martin Luther and John Wesley. So did Dietrich Bonheoffer. So did Martin Luther King, Jr. Not to cause trouble simply for the purpose of stirring up trouble. Not because they didn’t love the church or its members. Not because they got a kick out of being insubordinate, thumbing their noses at authority, breaking the rules, or breaking the law. They did so, to paraphrase Martin Luther, because they could do no other.

And thus it was with Stephen. Stephen, one of the first deacons of the church, became the church’s first martyr. He didn’t set out to be a martyr. He didn’t childishly go forth to twist the lion’s tail. He simply went out and proclaimed the Gospel. He spoke the truth of God. That got him arrested on false charges and tried in a kangaroo court.

Once in court, already all but convicted, he was allowed to put forward his defense. And he did so by preaching a sermon that got him tossed out of the frying pan into the fire. William Barclay describes Stephen’s emotions as he preached: “There [was] anger in [the closing words of his sermon], but there [was] sorrow too. There [was] the anger of a man who [saw] people commit the most terrible of crimes [the crucifixion of Jesus]; but there [was] the sorrow of a man who [saw] a people who [had] refused the destiny that God offered them.”

The hearts of true prophets always ache for the people upon whom God has called them to pronounce judgment. Real prophets are first and foremost pastors. They speak the truth, no matter how painful it may be, in love. They pray for people to repent and return to the Lord.

What were the final words of Stephen’s sermon? Quoting from The Message, “And you continue, so bullheaded! Calluses on your hearts, flaps on your ears! Deliberately ignoring the Holy Spirit, you’re just like your ancestors. Was there ever a prophet who didn’t get the same treatment? Your ancestors killed anyone who dared talk about the coming of the Just One [the Messiah]. And you’ve kept up the family tradition – traitors and murderers, all of you. You had God’s Law handed to you by angels – gift-wrapped – and you squandered it!”

That didn’t win him any friends in court. They were already mad enough. Their theology had been attacked, especially their theology of the Temple. Kind of like the old Jim Croce song, “You don’t tug on Superman’s cape. You don’t spit into the wind. You don’t pull the mask off the old Lone Ranger, and you don’t mess around with Jim.” People of that day dared not mess around with the Temple. It not only contained the holy of holies. In some ways it had become the holy of holies, an idol that was worshipped instead of God.

And theology wasn’t the only issue. The Temple was a cash cow. It drove the economy of Jerusalem. There are people who might overlook having their religion insulted or their theology called into question, but if you start hitting them in the pocketbook – look out. All hell will break loose. Amos and Isaiah got in hot water for daring to speak out against the grossly unethical business practices of their day.

Some guys in Philippi had Paul and Silas thrown in jail because Paul had performed an exorcism that set a slave girl free from demonic possession. As long as she was possessed she was a money-maker for her owners. Set free she was no longer a profitable asset. You don’t mess around with somebody’s money machine!

It’s interesting to note that the scribes and Pharisees joined forces with their bitter religious and political rivals the Sadducees. Why? Because Stephen’s witness to the truth of Jesus had offended them all. It really must true what they say: an enemy of my enemy is my friend. For at least one day they were all friends. Stephen was the common enemy.

They plotted together to arrange for his arrest under false pretenses and joke of a trial. And in the end they sat there and did nothing after Stephen’s sermon had put the finishing touches on the crowd’s lynch mob mentality. They stood at a distance, technically keeping their hands clean, while Stephen was illegally stoned to death.

As for Stephen, he imitated his Lord Jesus even in death. He surrendered his spirit to the Lord. He asked that his tormenters’ sins not be held against them. And he died with his eyes on Jesus. He never backed down. He never pulled any punches.

I am not Stephen. I dare not place myself in such austere company. Nor am I John Calvin, Martin Luther, Dietrich Bonheoffer, or Martin Luther King, Jr. I have neither the intellectual wherewithal nor the preaching skills of those guys. I am a pastor approaching retirement age. I’m quite attached to my present salary and benefits and my future pension. I don’t want to anger or offend people. Nor do I wish to be unemployed. I simply want to be the best minister I can be until I either retire or the Lord takes me home.

But if there is a clear biblical mandate to preach a controversial or offensive sermon, I pray that I will have the faith and the courage to do so. I also pray that you will be willing to hear it as your pastor’s faithful response to the Holy Spirit and that you will have enough trust in me to know that the words I am Spirit-driven to speak come from the very depths of my soul. Or to again paraphrase the words of Martin Luther that I can do no other.

While a sermon dealing with martyrdom may seem out of place on the day of a baptism, we must remember that being baptized as a Christian automatically makes us a potential martyr. It goes with the territory. To be a true witness for Christ is to risk becoming a martyr. To profess Christ as Lord and Savior is to acknowledge that there may be some modern equivalent of a crucifixion or stoning somewhere in our future.

And that’s not just true of pastors. It’s true of anyone who calls him- or herself a disciple of Christ. There can come that moment in any Christian’s life when he or she cannot back down from the truth no matter what the cost of defending it. Amen.