The Church’s Yearbook
Acts 9:36-43
From time to time on different internet websites, I’ll see an advertisement with 1970’s or 80’s-looking pictures with these words, “Do you know what happened to…?” The pictures look like they came right out of a high school yearbook. Each time I see these ads, my own high school days flash through my mind.
I think I can still name every kid from my graduating class…all fifteen of us. I had hair then, tight-fitting jeans with corduroy designs sewn into the back pockets, and you were really cool if you could get through the first screen on the pacman video game at the gas station. The first artificial heart was implanted in 1983 – the year I graduated. Michael Jackson’s Thriller album was at the top of the music charts. You could buy a first class postage stamp for $0.20 and a gallon of gas for $1.24. I called mom a while back and asked her to send me my high school year book. Here it is! For those of you who have graduated high school, do you know where your yearbook is? For those who haven’t graduated yet, be careful about fashion trends and fads you embrace. They may come back to haunt you.
Jon Walton, a pastor from New York, says that the book of Acts is like the Church’s yearbook.[1] It gives us not the whole story, but the story the early Church decided should be remembered about its earliest days. As Christians, every time we read through Acts, it’s like looking through old yearbooks of our high school. We might laugh at some of the challenges earlier folks faced. We also should admire some of those who went before us.
If Acts is like a Christian yearbook, then one of the snapshots Luke highlights and lingers over is a woman by the name of Tabitha. In Greek her name is Dorcas. She would have been voted, “most-compassionate, most-friendly, most-inspirational, and most-likely-to-give-her-last-dime-to-someone-in-need” in anyone’s class of any era but in our text today, a tragic thing has happened. She has died. She became sick, the sickness was not arrested in time, and she died.
Now her friends have gathered to mourn. It seems that each of the mourners have brought with them memories and tangible evidence of Tabitha’s character. One by one they take turns telling their stories. “See this coat! Tabitha made it for me a few winters ago when it was so cold. Oh, I couldn’t get warm that winter but this coat sure made the difference.” Another chimed in, “My daughter wore this dress on the day we dedicated her in worship…just before my husband died. Just look at the even and perfect stitching. She really helped me get through those difficult years after my husband’s death.” The stories and memories flowed as these women gathered to mourn their dear friend. These articles of clothing and tangible evidence were not just possessions, they were testimonials of compassion. Each time Tabitha made something and gave it to someone in need, she was identifying with others, and identifying herself with Christ.
Since I’ve been re-living some high school memories this week, I want you all to stir the cobwebs in your minds of some basic European history. It’s April 1746 in Scotland. The Battle of Culloden has just been fought. The British, using some of the most advanced warfare of their day killed 1,000 Scotsmen in less than 45 minutes. Afterwards, the British Crown tried to make sure the Scottish identity never emerged again and outlawed items of Scottish dress. The response of the Scotts was classic. Instead of outwardly wearing the banned clothing, they would wear their traditional colors and clothes underneath their outer garments. When the Scotts would pray in church, they would reach underneath and touch those clothes while they prayed. For them, they were touching more than a piece of cloth. They were touching the weavings and sewings of their identity.[2]
We have all witnessed similar expressions of identification over the past few weeks. Who hasn’t seen a Virginia Tech sweatshirt or T-shirt in the past two weeks? There has been more maroon and orange around recently than during any other time I can remember. Have people all suddenly become Hokie fans? No, I don’t think so. People are doing similar things that we see in this text. We are identifying with others and showing support in small ways, yet visible ones. For Christians, this can be a way we are trying to identify with the pain of others, but also seeking to solidify our identity in Christ. Through Christ, we can struggle through the insanity of events like the Virginia Tech shootings. Through Christ, we can proclaim a resurrection through faith. Through Christ, we can show compassion to those in need.
If we were to compile a yearbook of sorts here at Cane Creek for 2007, what would we include? What memories would be significant? What would we touch and say, “This is part of our identity”?
Jon Walton, the preacher from New York that I quoted earlier when he said, “The book of Acts is…a yearbook of the church,” also said that, “A church without men and women who are willing to follow the example of Tabitha is an impoverished church.”[3] Basically, he was saying that compassion for others must be part of the fabric of our congregation. It’s driving those who can’t drive to the doctor. It’s giving baby clothes to your neighbor who can’t afford to clothe their children. It’s dropping a card in the mail to someone who’s really struggling. We are good at being compassionate at this church. But each day it’s a call that must be renewed. Just as Tabitha became a symbol of the resurrection life in Joppa, we are called to be symbols of the resurrection life in Orange Grove.
Who will you be compassionate toward this week?
How will you demonstrate that compassion?
This is part of our identity.
Amen.
[1] Jon M. Walton, “Living By The Word: What About Dorcas?” The Christian Century, April 17, 2007.
[2] This illustration came from a sermon by Thomas H. Troeger, “Resurrection Weavings,” The Journal For Preachers, Easter 2001, p. 13.
[3] Jon M. Walton, “Living By The Word: What About Dorcas?” The Christian Century, April 17, 2007.