The stories are so familiar. Told to us since childhood, for many of us. Coloring pages giving way to thoughtful exercises in Sunday School. Read yearly, by those who follow a reading plan. The focus of exhortations and Bible classes. Each time we see them again, there is an unconscious “Oh yes, I remember this.”  And we go on, comfortable in the familiar.

Part of the problem (it is a problem) is the bare-bones nature of the narrative. The accounts are not sensationalized. In fiction, tension is deliberately built toward a dramatic climax. Along the way we know the main character’s thoughts—we’re told about his or her emotions, doubts, decisions. What it looked and sounded and smelled like. Bible accounts include hardly any of this. And if we let it happen, we can find that works of fiction seem much more “real” than the brief accounts we have in the Bible of events that actually happened. We can, in fact, become much more engaged in a fictional story. We can forget the Bible accounts are told by eyewitnesses, or from interviews with eyewitnesses. And the events were punch-in-the-stomach real. There is all the drama, emotion, tension, villainy and heroism you could ask for in these accounts. But it might take a little more effort to bring it out.

All this is the case when we open the Bible pretty much anywhere. The one that particularly struck me this morning is Acts 17.  Can you picture with me?

You and I are just ordinary people living in Thessalonica. We have a pretty good life, not without its troubles of course. And to be honest, lately life seems kind of empty of meaning. We’ve been visiting the Jewish synagogue occasionally, and you know, what they say about One God makes a lot more sense than all the traditional hooey about Zeus and that bunch. But now there are religious troubles coming from, surprisingly, the Jews!  Usually they keep a pretty low profile. Some out-of-town Jews have been talking up a new version of Judaism, and some of the locals are enthusiastic about it—and they are really reaching out to non-Jews like us!  Other locals aren’t happy about it, so say the least. Arguments, even heated ones, are one thing, but then out of nowhere there’s a riot!  Some thugs drag a Jewish leader out into the street, a guy named Jason. We’ve met him!  Seemed to be a stand-up guy.  And this mob is trying to locate those out-of-town Jews so they can lynch them!  The mob is roaring down the street. We decide we better barricade the door and hide.  I can’t believe we’re caught in the middle of this!  I don’t know what to make of this Christos guy. But you know, a lot of the bigwigs are taking it pretty seriously. It does seem serious—sounds farfetched, but kind of rings true. Those out-of-town guys weren’t nutjobs, even if they’re talking about this Christos coming back from the dead. Should we try to find out more about it?  I can’t help it, I’m scared by that mob. But I think I want to look into it.  What do you think?

Can you see it?  Smell it?  Feel what it felt like?

How much rage does it take for people to join a mob that’s trying to do murder?  Even more, how much hate does it take that you’ll hire thugs to start a riot?  What is it like to live day in, day out with no real hope—and then have a beautiful, credible and compelling hope offered, like a massive rush of cool refreshing air on a stifling day?  What is it like to hear, for the very first time, that you can live forever, not only that but free of all suffering and all wrong – and have it backed up with eyewitness accounts that prove it to you?  What’s it like to see the people in your own community turn violently on the people who are simply trying to share such a hope?  What’s it like to have your job on the line, the safety of your family?

Some of you reading my questions know what it’s like, first hand. You have seen both the precious hope, and the vile and violent reaction against it. The rest of us are prone to forgetting that scenes like Acts 17 are still playing out in places like Congo and Iran. The details are different, but the joy, fear, hope, hate, danger, and loving welcome are the same, all mixed together.  When we read an account like this, what is necessary (not just suggested!) is to make it real. Put ourselves in the story. Reflect on how it is like what someone we know has gone through.

God has chosen to teach us, His children, using stories. Some, like the parables, are fictional. Many more are true accounts. They are offered to us in a deliberately understated form – deliberate in order to see what we’ll do with them.  Jesus explained why he taught in parables, and he also said he only ever does what he sees the Father doing.  Seeing, hearing these stories – do we see, do we hear?  We are followers of Jesus, are we not?  Are we paying attention? Are we asking questions like the disciples did?  Is it alive for us, or just words on a page?

Love, with feeling, Paul

If you have any feedback, please contact me at: paul.zilmer@gmail.com