“Get Up”
Acts 9:32-43
Associate Pastor Doug Forsberg
January 29, 2006
There is something odd about worshipping in a sanctuary whose walls are decorated with crutches, walkers, and even a wheelchair. Presbyterians don’t usually go for such decorations in their church. In fact, I can assure you that there is not one First Presbyterian Church of the Retired Crutch in the whole United States.
But, there are other churches whose walls dazzle with so many discarded aids to mobility. I have been to one of these churches, and sarcastically, I asked the friend who had brought me to this church why there seemed to be a medical supply business running out of the church’s sanctuary. My friend looked me in the eye, thinking I wasn’t very funny, and said, “Those are here because people needed them to get in the church but not to get out. They left them here.”
“Seriously?” I said.
“Seriously.” He said.
“How could that happen? What did the pastor say to them so that they could just walk out of here?” I asked.
“Get up! Jesus Christ heals you.” my friend said.
Miracles are a funny sort of thing. Some people see so many miracles everyday that they seem to know no boundary between ordinary and miraculous. Others refuse to see miracles, believing in only that which can be rationally measured, quantified and understood. The rest of us find ourselves somewhere between these two poles, wanting to believe that God is at work in the world in ways that cannot be explained and yet fearing that we will be tricked by some huckster offering hope and a way out of despair.
As we hear of Peter healing Aeneas and raising Tabitha from the dead, we are presented with three miracles, all of which have the same purpose: the revelation of God’s grace and power so that many will turn to him. The point of this account is not that Aeneas could suddenly walk or that Tabitha was raised from the dead. Of course, these are important moments, especially to Aeneas and Tabitha, but what is really happening here is that the Good News of God’s grace is being spread far and wide, and Aeneas and Tabitha enjoy the pleasure of being a part of the proclamation of the gospel.
Miracles are big news aren’t they? They grab our attention and force us to focus on the fact that unseen forces are at work around us. “Get up!” Peter tells Aeneas and Tabitha. Then this man who had been bedridden for eight years and this woman who had been dead for hours arise. They get up. The physical debilitation that had come upon them leaves them. We can’t explain what happens. We only know that Jesus is working through Peter in such a powerful way that Tabitha and Aeneas are healed. The people of that time and place didn’t have such a hard time knowing what to do with such miracles: they put their faith in the Lord. We, on the other hand, aren’t so sure what to do with miracles. Maybe that says more about us than we want it to.
Of the three miracles in today’s text these two involving Aeneas and Tabitha are obvious. They stare us in the face and force us to pay attention. Notice that miracles like this make evangelism so easy. In one day, Peter brings whole towns to the gospel of Christ as people see with their eyes the glory of the Lord. Even though whole towns turned to the Lord because of these miracles, no one can prove their authenticity to someone who refuses to believe them. That’s one of the funny things about miracles: for those with eyes to see and ears to hear the lame walk and the dead are raised, but for the spiritually blind and deaf these are nothing more than parlor tricks or pie in the sky religion.
Physical miracles, like Aeneas’ healing and Tabitha’s renewed life, force us to see that God’s grace often interrupts our lives in a way that we might miss if we are not looking. Aeneas and Tabitha don’t really have any choice in these matters. No one asks them if they want to be healed; they just are. Suddenly, the grace of God breaks into their living and dying in a way that tears apart our notion of what is normal. The wages of sin break down our bodies and so we suffer from various diseases and even death, yet the possibility always exists that God’s grace will interrupt our lives and heal us. In such cases we are awed by grace and we welcome God’s interruption into our lives.
W.H. Auden wrote the following words: “Nothing can save us that is possible:/ We who must die demand a miracle.”[1] Those who recognize their sinfulness and the distance between themselves and God know that there is no reasonable, mathematical, or comprehendible way for them to stand before God. We can’t do it ourselves; we need a miracle; what we need more than anything else is an interruption of grace into our lives. Sometimes that interruption of grace is physical; people are healed or brought back from the dead. Other times such interruptions of grace happen in those deep places of our hearts that are hidden to all, even ourselves. For the gospel will penetrate even these deep recesses of our hearts, and when it does we are changed.
Maybe you’ve been wondering why I’ve said that there are three miracles in today’s text. There are only two aren’t there? Aeneas is one and Tabitha is two. Friends, there is a third miracle revealed in this text which is that as Jesus Christ is welcomed into our lives, the gospel spreads into every portion of our being - to the marrow of our bones and even the most hidden places in our hearts. We often speak of the gospel spreading throughout the world, one person at a time. The book of Acts witnesses to the spread of the gospel. What we must realize is that the gospel also spreads through our hearts. The gospel can never be just a shallow kind of thing we put on every Sunday morning and then take off for the rest of the week. No, the gospel is an agent of change. We may have had in mind only to welcome it into certain areas of our lives, but the grace of God cannot be confined; instead it interrupts our lives and makes all things new, and this is a miracle.
Tabitha is a good example of the grace of God spreading through one’s heart. At some point before her death, she had become a disciple of Jesus Christ. We’re told in verse 36 that she was always doing good and helping the poor. We’re also told that when Peter was taken to the upper room where her body lay, all of the widows were there weeping and they showed him the robes and clothing that Tabitha had made when she was alive. These widows weren’t just showing Peter Tabitha’s newest spring fashion line that was hanging on the racks in her room. They were showing him the clothes on their backs, clothes that Tabitha had made for each one of them.
One of the functions of widows in this time was to be mourners when people died. This was their job. They were professionals, yet in this case, we can see that they wept out of genuine affection for Tabitha. She had gone out of her way to provide clothing to these widows, clothing she had made with her own hands. We don’t know how Tabitha spent her time before she became a disciple of Jesus Christ, but I’m willing to bet she was not occupied with helping the poor and clothing widows. That’s how grace interrupts our lives. Suddenly, a thing which might seem so unimportant and inefficient like serving the poor becomes important. Tabitha’s heart was changed by grace and this grace allowed her to recognize that the Lord was calling her to a specific task, doing good and helping the poor. This is a miracle, for we cannot take our eyes off ourselves, unless the Lord helps us to do so.
As we read today’s text, we notice that the gospel has also spread to the deepest places in Peter’s heart. We see this in the way Peter goes about his ministry. Notice that Peter is strikingly similar to Jesus as he ministers to Aeneas and Tabitha. When the gospel reaches beyond the shallow places and into the depths of our hearts we become like Jesus. When Peter heals Aeneas he uses almost the exact same words that Jesus used when he healed the paralytic who was lowered through the roof by his friends (Mark 2:11). When Peter heals Tabitha he uses exactly the same command that Jesus used when he raised a little girl from the dead (Mark 5:41). I don’t think that Peter is just mimicking Jesus here. I think that the Spirit has moved in him in such a way that he ministers as Christ ministered.
Verse 43 offers us another opportunity to notice how the gospel has reached the deepest places in Peter’s heart. This verse seems sort of extraneous, like it was added on at the last minute. At first glance, it seems to have more to do with what comes next in Acts than it does with these other miracles we’ve read about today, but first glances can be deceptive.
We’re told that Peter stayed in Joppa for some time with a man named Simon who was a tanner. The work of a tanner is difficult. Day after day he takes animal hides and cleans them and gets all of the hair out of them so that they can be used in various ways. This is a smelly task and the smell tends to stay with you.
In Peter’s day the Jews regarded tanners as ceremonially unclean because they touched dead animals. For this reason tanners had no opportunity to participate in the worship of local synagogues or at the temple. Surely, Peter was aware of these issues when he decided to stay with Simon, yet these ceremonial laws take a back seat to the fellowship these two men find in Jesus Christ. So it is that Peter is able to set aside everything he knows about those with whom he can associate, for the gospel has gone into that deep place in his heart, and when the gospel reached that place in Peter’s heart, a miracle transpired, for suddenly Peter saw people as our Father in heaven sees them and he began to associate with those he had thought were outside of God’s grace. The church in Joppa must have been full of disciples whose faith prompted them to knock down walls that had divided them from others. So it is that a third miracle is found in these final verses of chapter 9: the gospel penetrates beyond the surface of our hearts and forces us to interact with the world in a new way.
The early church was aware of this. The first hospitals in the history of the world were started by Christians. Orphanages did not exist until Christians sought to end the Roman practice of leaving unwanted children outside to die. Education of the masses was not thought of until Christians came to understand that education can change the lives of those who were not deemed worthy of it. The early church served the poorest and weakest and in so doing changed the world. They did this because the gospel which was spreading throughout the world was also spreading within their hearts allowing them to see others as those made in the image of God who were worthy of the Good News and a cup of cold water. Physical healings like Aeneas and Tabitha experienced are miracles to be celebrated by all for many see and hear and turn to the Lord. So too should we celebrate the miracle of the gospel spreading in our hearts, seeking to take captive our every thought and desire.
As we gather here in worship this morning I wonder what miracle you are looking for the Lord to accomplish in your life. Surely some among us desire physical healing for their body or for the body of a loved one. Others among us want desperately to be free of some addiction that is slowly but surely suffocating them. Others among us live in fear of being unable to break free of some sin that has a tight hold. Some among us live with the shattered remains of relationships that seem broken beyond repair. Some among us have been defeated by our failures and dare not hope for success. Some among us aren’t sure if we can or want to continue walking with Jesus. Some among us feel Jesus moving in those deep and secret places in our hearts and are scared to death by the change he will bring and the forgiveness that we might experience.
Brothers and sisters, if you find yourself in need of a miracle, “get up,” for Jesus Christ heals you and desires you to know wholeness and fullness of life in him so that all the world will know that he is Lord.
May it be Lord that we get up. May it be.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
[1] W.H. Auden, “For the Time Being: Advent,” in Collected Poems, New York: Random House, 1976, 274.