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Boy Scout Tr #240

Scripture: Acts 16:16-34

Once upon a time there was a man who lived in Philippi some nineteen centuries ago. We don't know his name. It wasn't recorded. But he can be described pretty well. He was a civil servant of the Roman government. Specifically, he was the jailer in Philippi. Not a great joy, in my opinion, but a necessary job. It was a life-and-death kind of job, meaning that in those days the jailer paid with his life for any prisoners who escaped. I can't help wondering why anyone would want such a job. But someone had to do it. Perhaps this was the only job this man could find. Maybe he didn't have a choice like we in America do. Maybe he was stuck there. Maybe that was his lot in life.

Now, I'm sure, that a jailer's work was pretty grim. The work environment was not pretty. People were not pleasant to be around. So, this kind of place, I'm sure had an effect on him; after all, we are shaped and molded by our environment. So, we can imagine that the jailer was a pretty grim man, a hard man. Not necessarily brutal or unfair, but tough to the core, if he was good at his job. Working day by day in an environment of despair, threat, and dark loneliness must have taken its toll on the very essence of this man. Even worse, he and his family had to live right there in the prison complex. He could never get away from this domain of ugliness.

Yet, something held him in that job. After all, it was a position of responsibility, and responsibility ties a strong cord to a person's soul. In a Middle Eastern society, with responsibility came honor and honor was everything to this jailer.

One afternoon the authorities came with two beaten men and a warning that he must not, by any means allow these two men to escape. So the jailer, as usual, put them in the most secure spot in the prison, the inner dungeon. And for extra security, he clamped their feet in stocks.

That night, around midnight, the two men began singing. We don't know if the jailer paid much notice. Maybe it quieted the other prisoners. The songs were religious. Perhaps it was odd to hear songs about victory and joy in a jail. But maybe those two guys were a little crazy or possessed or something. The jailer, after all, had seen it all.

But then, that night, the jailer's whole world caved in. An earthquake struck. When the tremors stopped, the jailer realized that all the prisoners had been shaken loose from their stocks. This was the worst possible thing that could happen to him. His job and his life were finished. He had brought shame on himself and his family. So, he drew his sword to kill himself, knowing that he would rather do the job himself than be put through the shame of a trial and a public execution.

But just as quickly, his despair was interrupted by a call from one of those strange, singing prisoners, "Don't do it! We are all here!" The jailer ran to the dungeon and fell down before the two men. Then he led them out of the pit so he could ask them a crucial question, "What must I do to be saved?"

This question is the pivotal point of the story. But what exactly was the jailer asking? Was he simply wondering how to get out of the mess he was in? You know--the job, the peril of losing the other prisoners, his execution? Or, was he asking THE question of all questions. What must he do to gain eternal life? Which was it?

Now, I tend toward the concrete, situational question rather than the philosophical, religious question. After all, saving his life and family were very important and it was his most immediate need. Even in today's world, most people are simply NOT walking around every day wondering and pondering what they need to do to get SAVED. If they were, we preachers would have a much easier time of it and our churches would be full every Sunday. Most people, most of the time, are thinking about keeping their job, getting a ticket for some playoff game, wondering about their love life, calculating how much of their credit card debt they are reducing or adding to every month, what to do for their next vacation, or where to go for lunch after church Most people, I suspect, feel that if they can just keep up the mortgage payments, have a few good friends, get the occasional promotion, and watch their kids play a sport, then they have it as good as most people they know. And that's good enough. Don't rock the boat. Life is fine.

But then one day something BIG happens, something life-changing, life-shattering. For the jailer, it was two unlikely, unusual prisoners, followed by an earthquake. For us, it might be a phone call in the night, bad news from a doctor, the last straw breaking that was holding your marriage together, a friend betraying your trust, getting laid off. At such times, we cry out, "What must I do to be saved?" Maybe we would phrase it this way, "What in the world am I going to do now?" or, "How can I possibly go on with my life?"

Or, maybe, life is going okay, everything is fine, too fine, and we ask, "Isn't there more to life than this?" That is a cry just as authentic and poignant as when the jailer asked, "What must I do to be saved?" Because the question is: What must I do to be free! What must I do to be satisfied, complete, fulfilled? Or, what is the meaning and the purpose of my life?

At these kinds of moments we think of our jobs, relationship, and well-being first. But for us believers, nothing on this earth is simply on this earth. Everything that happens to us has some possible significance in the BIG picture, in the grand scheme of things, in the realm of God.

When the jailer asked his two special prisoners, Paul and Silas, "What must I do to be saved?" he was most certainly thinking about avoiding the shame that would have been brought on him and his family. But the crisis also opened the door to the recognition of more. It broke him free from the shame and opened the door to more.

Paul and Silas answered, "Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved, along with your entire household." They gave the jailer an honor statement, a freedom statement, an eternal answer. Not an eternal, pie in the sky when you die answer. It was an answer that gave the jailer honor right then and there at no cost at all. It was a gift.

What happened after that was totally out of character for the jailer. Immediately he saw their wounds, took them into his home, washed and bound the wounds. He was a different man, free from the honor/shame system he lived by.

Later that day, Paul and Silas left town. The jailer went back to running his jail. But the Scriptures say that he and his whole family now "rejoiced because they all believed in God." Yes, he was still a jailer, still a husband and father, still a Roman citizen; but something was different. Something happened that broke him free from the ball and chain of his life. And that something happened through Paul and Silas--God happened to him--grace, love, new life. No wonder Paul wrote that wonderful passage to the Romans that says, "Nothing in all of creation, nothing will separate us from the love of God through Jesus Christ our Lord."

There is a lot in life that binds us, that feels like a ball and chain. But what holds us can be broken. We can be free. Even when Paul and Silas were bound in stocks in jail, they were the most free people in the story. They had just freed a slave girl who was in bondage to men who used her to make money. This whole story is about freedom, a special kind of freedom. The freedom that goes with being yoked with God, about saying yes to things that bring life rather than destroying life, about an attitude that we are more than what we do--we are precious, unique gifts from God to the world, placed here to make a difference. We are eternal people, not just today people. Our business is with God.

So be watchful, pay attention, because you never know when something might happen, when the question might come. Maybe it already has. If not it will. It could happen soon, this week, next month, next year. When it does, you'll know. You'll get up one morning thinking it will be just another day, never guessing what may be ahead. And something will happen that interrupts your life. It may be a gentle interruption, a nagging interruption, or a traumatic one. Look at it this way. This has come in your life to break you free of your routine, free of what binds you, free of that imaginary ball and chain in your mind. This happens to remind you that you have business with God--eternal business.

But it comes with a warning. This kind of freedom in Christ--it is not easy. Remember the Hebrew people, wandering in the wilderness, hungry with no food in sight. They complained and murmured through the wilderness asking to go back to Egypt, to slavery. That predictable life seemed a lot easier than the unpredictable wilderness.

Freedom is challenging. Freedom is not about security or a sense of control. Everything will not be ALL right. It means stepping out on a limb. It means letting go of what we cling to so desperately. Freedom requires trust in God, belief that in God we are in good hands. In fact, only those who are willing to enter the wilderness will taste the freedom that Paul and Silas gave the jailer.

I've met many Christians who, when sharing their story, talk about their time away from God before they find God. It's a common journey. It is my story too. I went through some wild times, made some bad decisions, have some regrets. I hurt myself and hurt others. But you know what? I t was the wilderness that brought me out of the wilderness. In other words, the wilderness has made me who I am today--both the good and the bad, the regrets and celebration. It is all me--all of it. And when that "wake up" call from God hit me, and it hit me hard, my life broke wide open, wide enough to set me free to truly find God and find myself. The wilderness was an important and is an important part of our journey with God.

That is why it is so important for us to accept people as they are when we meet them. God has led them to us, whether they realize it or not, and we are called to love them into freedom and wholeness.

Amen.