On That Day: A DocuDrama

Stephen and I have a lot in common. We grew up in the same town. Went to the same church growing up. Came to believe in the same Jesus. Saw the same miracles.

Died on the same day.

That day began like most others in Jerusalem. Job was going fine, had my health. I also was a new Christian. In fact, my whole family had come to know this Jesus guy and call him Lord. And He was changing us from the inside out in amazing ways. And the teaching. . ..AWESOME. Best sermons on the planet. The church was happening, man. We were seeing incredible things. Like, some days, thousands of my friends and neighbors became followers of Jesus. It was pretty sweet.

Well, mostly sweet. Up to that day. Should have seen it coming. Just wasn't looking. Man, they got Stephen the same way they got Jesus. Had some dudes invent lies about what he was saying, stirred up a mob, and just murdered him. Not cool at all. So, I think it's right that Stephen gets written up in the bible. What he laid on the religious leaders in his defense was for the ages.

Me? I don't make it through the day, either. I'm just a footnote, like everyone else who bought the farm on that day when all hell broke loose against the church.

I had a lot of questions, for sure. You would have, too. I mean, to stop breathing on that day was not in my five-year plan. I double-checked. Not there. There were still more people with whom I wanted to share the gospel, more things to learn, more changes to make, more tithes to give, more impact to have. Dying on that day? Just didn't seem to make a lot of sense. Why did this happen? Why would God allow it? Does He know what He's doing? Is He really in control? If not, can I trust Him?

Things happened so fast after Stephen's death that I didn't have a chance to get good answers to these questions. The mob just turned immediately on anyone who was a Christian. It looked like leaving town would be the only option, but we didn't have time to pack before they dragged us off.

So, here I am. Looking down on the earth I used to walk, trying to figure it out. I've got this incredible eternity to look forward to. Not particularly bitter. Just wanting to make sense of why I was at all. What purpose was there in my life down there, and what good did I accomplish? I was only a Christian for a couple of months. Seems like such a waste.

But sitting here, I'm reminded that Jesus told us we would be His witnesses not only in Jerusalem, but in Judea, in Samaria, and in the remotest parts of the earth. While I thought I'd leave Jerusalem someday and spread the gospel, seems God's idea was that I was to serve as the catalyst for others to make that journey. Wasn't easy to accommodate, but it seems I was supposed to die there in Jerusalem. It wasn't some fluke, an accident. My death forced those whose job was to move out and spread the gospel to get on with it.

Ok, I'm still pretty sure I would have written a different role for myself in this saga, but I'm getting it that God knows exactly what He's doing. I also got it just how much of my relationship with Jesus revolved around my expectations of what He'd do for me, how He'd make me happy, and how He'd give me this or that thing or experience, how He'd make me notable or great or something. You know, I thought my mindset was eternally focused, but in reality I had way too much stock in life down there. Maybe I'd have seen things more clearly if my life revolved less around my happiness and more around seeing how every situation was an opportunity to give Him glory.

So, for those of you still down there, maybe you're wondering about hard times, illnesses, disappointments, whatever. Maybe there's something bigger afoot. Are you looking for it? Maybe it's not going badly. Maybe it's just going godly. And, on that day--you know, when you get here--it'll be fun to compare notes.

Want to read some more about this stuff, cull through Acts 1:1-8; Acts 6:1-8:4.

And That's the Truth

What is.

That was my answer. And it was my answer every time.

I don't know where the kids' fascination with the concept originated. A story read to them? Sunday School? Discussions about lying? Who knows. I just know that at some point they asked the question, "Daddy, what is truth?" My response was "Truth is what is." They thought this was so amusing that it became a ritual. Any time they had friends over, they'd drag 'em to me and say "Daddy, tell Billy what truth is." And they wouldn't stop until I'd say "The truth is what is." Then they'd run off howling. Yeah, I've got weird kids.

At first glance, you'd think that everyone was as interested in truth as my kids were. I mean, juries want you to testify and tell the truth. It's important enough that you have to swear to do so. More than 15 countries have instituted truth commissions of one kind or another to get to the bottom of some issue haunting their past. One of Malcolm X's exhibits is title "A Search for Truth."

I've found, however, that sometimes, we're not that interested in the straight up truth, because it can be hard to swallow. My sister-in-law is wanting truth to go far away right now. It's not because she's a bad person. She just wants to suppress the truth because she's in pain. My brother-in-law's been battling cancer, and the doctors are now saying that even though it's in remission right now, it's still there and will take him within 5 years. She doesn't want "what is." She wants something else.

Sometimes, even when you want to deal with the truth, it seems beyond your grasp. Ask someone addicted to drugs or alcohol or sex or whatever. They know it's killing them, destroying them. But suppressing the truth persuades you to do it again, expecting somehow that it'll turn out alright this time.

And then there's me. The Bible tells me straight up in the early part of the book of Romans that when I decide to do my own thing, believe something that God doesn't believe, that I am suppressing truth. Oh, sure, I'm not gonna call it that, but I want what I want even though God tells me it's bad for me. But I suppress that, choosing to believe a lie--that somehow my good will result from it--to justify my own selfishness. The BIble even goes so far as to say that I can be so blinded by my selfishness that I can't even think straight. I know this is true. I've done it more times than I care to remember. I can con myself so well that I forget I'm conning myself and believe this thing I know is bad for me is actually good for me.

The Bible makes a pretty bold claim. Not only does Jesus have the skinny on some truth. It goes beyond that to say that Jesus is actually truth. Jesus Himself says that. And it that's true, then if I really want to know the truth about what will bring me happiness, or the truth on how to find meaning for my life, or the truth about what I'm doing that's working for my good or ill, or the truth about how to understand my own heart and my own desires, or the truth about how to make sense of the stuff that just seems to happen all around me, then I'd better get to know Jesus. Not know about Him. Not memorize facts about what He did, where He went, what He said. Really know Him.

Realizing this has made me zero in more on walking and talking to Him like the real person He is, rather that studying about Him like He's some great art work or something. And it's made all the difference.

Reflecting back, truth really is "what is." But what really is, is Jesus.

No lie.

Dwaine Darrah, McLean Campus Pastor