A Sermon for the Sunday my nephew was baptized

Acts 9: 1-20 Meanwhile Saul, still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord, went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues at Damascus, so that if he found any who belonged to the Way, men or women, he might bring them bound to Jerusalem. Now as he was going along and approaching Damascus, suddenly a light from heaven flashed around him. He fell to the ground and heard a voice saying to him, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” He asked, “Who are you, Lord?” The reply came, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting. But get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do.” The men who were traveling with him stood speechless because they heard the voice but saw no one. Saul got up from the ground, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing; so they led him by the hand and brought him into Damascus. For three days he was without sight, and neither ate nor drank. Now there was a disciple in Damascus named Ananias. The Lord said to him in a vision, “Ananias.” He answered, “Here I am, Lord.” The Lord said to him, “Get up and go to the street called Straight, and at the house of Judas look for a man of Tarsus named Saul. At this moment he is praying, and he has seen in a vision a man named Ananias come in and lay his hands on him so that he might regain his sight.” But Ananias answered, “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to your saints in Jerusalem; and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke your name.” But the Lord said to him, “Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.” So Ananias went and entered the house. He laid his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with the Holy Spirit.” And immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored. Then he got up and was baptized, and after taking some food, he regained his strength. For several days he was with the disciples in Damascus, and immediately he began to proclaim Jesus in the synagogues, saying, “He is the Son of God.” Sermon Children go through phases, and my nephew Sam Pace who was baptized this morning is in an early phase of life where nearly everything is done for him: where he is fed, his diapers are changed, he’s rocked to sleep, and there is almost nothing that he does on his own. But other phases are coming. Sam’s cousins, my two daughters, are both in a different phase – a phase where many things are still done for them, but where, thanks be to God, each are interested in doing things, “All by myself.” We’ll get in the car, and will sit there in the busy parking lot, cars waiting to take our spot, but I can’t back up for Lily wants to buckle her car seat all by herself. Cecelia doesn’t want any help at the dinner table, though she requires help changing her outfit after its been covered in ketchup or butter or whatever, which she put there all by herself. I think Lyn and Ami may envy the stage that my children are in, my wife and I sometimes envy the stage that Sam is in, but soon enough they will all change again – though many people in our world never get beyond wanting to do everything all by themselves. Our society seems to think that is how it ought to be, promoting the idea of the self-made individual. He pulled himself up by his bootstraps, she built up that business on her own, and no matter how lost he is he will not be asking for directions, for to ask for help is a sign of weakness and I want to do it my way. Sam may want to be like that. I find myself wanting to be like that – maybe you want to be like that too, and certainly the Apostle Paul, who in our lesson for this morning goes by “Saul,” the name he went by before God changed it, possessed some of this self-determination, this personal strength and confidence to do things on his own without asking for assistance. He was powerful enough to bind any who belonged to the Way, he was pure and disciplined enough to inspire respect among the religious hierarchy, he had access to the High Priest and who knows who else. He didn’t take orders, he gave them, and certainly on his way to Damascus he would not be asking for directions. But something happened on the way there, and it’s something that happens to everyone though it may not be quite so obvious when it happens to you. His human development seemed to move in reverse. He moved, not from the “all by myself stage” to an even greater stage of independence, but moved back to the stage of complete dependence. He could no longer find his way to Damascus, but had to be led there by the hand like a small child crossing the street. For three days he was without sight, and he neither ate nor drank, as though he were not even able to feed himself. And what’s worse is that having begun this trip “still breathing threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord,” due to his complete helplessness he finds himself at the mercy of one of these so called disciples. The Lord told this disciple, Ananias, that “I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name,” and indeed the Lord did. Suffering for a man who was raised to be strong, independent, self-sufficient, is nothing if not such an existence - life at the mercy of another is not life at all. Or certainly that’s what the world has told us. So many choose hunger before handouts, go broke keeping up with everyone else, certainly some would prefer death to asking for help sure that success is won by those who can do it all by themselves. But as far as the Gospel goes – when you find the end of independence you have discovered the beginning of faith, which makes the truth of the Gospel seem like foolishness to the world. I say that, confident that there were those who would have let him die a slow, painful death there on the side of the road to Damascus, and there were surely those who believed God would make him blind to do just such a thing. But the evil Paul had done all by himself would not define him. I imagine that he could feel the end creeping in as the world became dark and he grasped the meaning of helplessness. But what Paul could not do on his own hardly makes up the story we tell today, just as what you cannot do for yourself does not form the essence of yours. Baptizing babies makes little sense in a world where individuals are judged by what they have done, but this is not so with you. You have been marked by a power greater than yourself. You are defined, not by accomplishment or failure, not by wealth or poverty, not by piety or tragedy. You are God’s own – and when you come to the end of what you can do for yourself you stand on the horizon of what God will do through you. Faith is the difference between being lost on the Damascus Road and getting back on the street called Straight. It’s the difference between blindness and seeing yourself as God sees you. It’s the difference between helplessness and holiness. It’s the difference between who the world will tell my nephew he is and who you will tell him he is. It’s the difference between knowing that what you can do to earn your salvation will never be enough and knowing that what Christ has done for your salvation is more than enough. Christ has done for Paul what Paul could not do for himself. And he has done for you what you cannot do for yourself. Thanks be to God. Amen.