By the Beautiful Gate
Every year on the Sunday before Thanksgiving, Thompson Memorial holds a Thanksgiving Vespers Service. I was asked to give the sermon for the service. Below is a video of the sermon and a text copy of the manuscript. You will notice that I do not look at the camera; this is because the camera is located in the balcony, which is not used for seating anymore. Enjoy, and as always I welcome your feedback!
Acts 3:1-10
One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o’clock in the afternoon. And a man lame from birth was being carried in. People would lay him daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate so that he could ask for alms from those entering the temple. When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms. Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, “Look at us.” And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. But Peter said, “I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.” And he took him by the right hand and raised him up; and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. Jumping up, he stood and began to walk, and he entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. All the people saw him walking and praising God, and they recognized him as the one who used to sit and ask for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple; and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.
I wonder if the man ever noticed the Beautiful Gate anymore. He had been sitting outside the temple for years, brought to the same place at the same time, sitting by this marvel - gates covered in Corinthian bronze - said to shine brighter than gold. As he sat there in the early summer sun, I wonder if he even noticed anymore, or if the weight of the many long years kept his vision low. Unable to walk, or even stand, since birth this man had no alternative but to rely on the support of strangers to survive. Maybe when he was a child he had a family to care for him, but that was a lifetime ago. Since then tens of thousands of days have come and gone, and each one brought the same thing. Exhaustion, frustration, embarrassment. Sitting for hours, hoping that this day there will be enough people willing to give him money that he can afford to eat. Whatever hopes and dreams he had as a child have been slowly washed away by wave after wave of disappointment and the horizons of the man’s world have grown smaller and smaller to the point that he might as well be wearing blinders. Now, all the man can hope for is to have enough money to make it through the week, or the day, and some days even that seems like a fool’s hope. After all, what hope is there, when your world can never change?
When I was in college I spent my summers working at my local church camp. The days were long and hot, filled with the sounds of laughter and singing, the smell of horses and campfire, and the kind of exhaustion that comes from days well spent. It is a time and place that fills my memory; however, there is one week in particular that will be forever etched into my soul.
For most of the summer we ran regular camp; kids of all ages would come from across two Presbyteries to spend a week at camp. However, for the last week of the summer, we suspended our regular program and in its place we ran a camp for adults with developmental disabilities.
I will never forget my first summer on staff, sitting in the training session on Sunday afternoon. The entire staff, along with about a dozen volunteers, was crowded into a conference room to prepare for the week. We sat on the green and grey carpet and listened as the directors told us about the campers we would be working with. The diagnoses of the individuals echoed in the room: Autism, Down’s Syndrome, Mental Retardation, Turrets. None of the campers that would be coming lived on their own; most were in group homes, some still lived with their parents. They needed help doing almost anything, from getting dressed to eating; the minority that could read did so on a second grade level at best.
And then, the director started talking about bible study. I was skeptical to put it kindly. We were going to be working with people, most of whom were in their 40’s or older, many of whom couldn’t read or write, some of whom couldn’t even speak, and they expected us to teach them about God? What hope was there of that? What hope is there for someone who’s world cannot change?
When the man at the gate saw Peter and John, he did what he had done for decades - he asked them for alms. This was his life, day in and day out, asking those going into the temple for alms. Some would stop, many would not. Long ago he stopped looking at each person going by, maybe because it was easier to keep his head down, maybe because he was ashamed, maybe he was just tired. But these men did stop. They stopped, and they looked at him, unlike anyone had looked at him in a long time. And then one of the men said in a voice that he could not ignore “Look at us.” He was sure that he was going to get a very generous gift from these two - they had such a commanding presence! He looked at them intently, waiting. And then. The nerve! The man who had commanded him to look up, he said he had no money! No money? The man was taken aback. Here were two obviously influential men going into the temple - surely they had money! The man wasn’t asking for much, just some spare change so he could afford to eat that day. He wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable - he wasn’t asking for a miracle!
As my campers began to show up that Tuesday morning, I quickly figured out that this was not going to be an easy week. The first to arrive was Reggie. He hopped out of his group home’s van, took one look at me, yelled “big brother!” and ran/skipped toward me at an alarming speed. Before I knew what to do I was wrapped up in an amazing bear hug. This made me feel good about the prospects for the group.
However, the next two gentlemen in my group couldn’t speak at all while the third was fully capable of communicating, but would only do it through his stuffed monkey puppet. The morning continued this way until our small group of eight guys was complete. My co-counselor and I rounded up our merry band, and we headed to the cabin for our first attempt at bible study. We decided that with the wide range of abilities, we would try to keep things simple; we would just talk about why Christians need to be nice to people. This lesson was, in the best of terms, a disaster. Our guys were bored, or confused, or more excited by the bunk beds - so we decided to put the lesson on hold until the next morning, when our guys would be more settled. After all, we didn’t want to teach anything unreasonable, we just wanted them to understand why it was important to be nice! We weren’t asking for a miracle.
As the man was beginning to think of how he would respond to these men that seemed to be mocking him, he was caught off guard; the man with the piercing eyes kept talking, “I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you.” What he has? What could he possibly have that could help me, the man wondered. And then, it happened. “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.” Peter took him by the hand, and for the first time in his life, he rose to his feet. His legs and ankles were strong and free of pain. He leapt in the air, and for the first time in a long time, he saw the gate shining like the sun.
The next day, as my co-counselor and I tried in vain to teach our gentlemen about being kind, I was interrupted in the middle of what I am sure was a very theologically astute point by Joe. Joe is the living embodiment of kindness; his smile alone could make flowers bloom. He looked at me from across the table and said, “Chris, God is good. Isn’t that enough?” In that moment, I realized he knows more about grace than I ever will. For the first time in a long time, I looked around, and I saw the smiles of my men, shining like the sun. My eyes were opened, and I recognized him.
So often, we are are trapped by what we think is possible. For the man at the gate, it never entered into his wildest dreams that he might be healed; the horizon of his world had shrunk so that he could only see what was right in front of him. For me at camp, I could only see the challenges faced by my guys, I saw what they were lacking, where we weren’t the same. It never entered my imagination that they might understand God in a way simpler, deeper, and more filled with truth than I ever could.
Friends, we all put blinders on our dreams. Oh sure, we call it lots of things: being a pragmatist, using logic and reason, putting our career or family or school first, knowing our limits, being a realist, or knowing that we are just too old or young or smart or dumb. But the good news is, God doesn’t care about our blinders. God does not give us how much grace we think we deserve; God does not limit his love to what is necessary or rational. God comes before us, pulls us to our feet, and leaps for joy with us.
You see, the story doesn’t end when the man is healed, it begins. He responds to the overwhelming grace and mercy of God the only way he knows how - by leaping for joy and praising God. He gives thanks. He walks into the temple and tells everyone that will listen, and probably quite a few who tried not to, of the gracious mercy he has been shown. And they were filled with wonder and amazement.
The last night of camp, we have a talent show. Each camper is invited to share, no auditions, no time limits. Some sing or dance, others draw or tell jokes. My friend Joe plays the kazoo. Every year, Joe stands in front of a room of over 100 people, and plays “Amazing Grace.” He plays because God is good, and that is enough. And every year, my heart leaps for joy, and I praise God in thankfulness for the gracious mercy I have been shown.
Friends, today God is standing before you, hand outstretched, saying “Look at me.” He is ready to take away your blinders, strengthen your feet, and welcome you to the dance that is a free life. What will be your song of thanksgiving?