Becoming Church Together: Paul and Silas in Prison

Acts 16:16-34

One day, as we were going to the place of prayer, we met a slave-girl who had a spirit of divination and brought her owners a great deal of money by fortune-telling. While she followed Paul and us, she would cry out, ‘These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation.’ She kept doing this for many days. But Paul, very much annoyed, turned and said to the spirit, ‘I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.’ And it came out that very hour.

But when her owners saw that their hope of making money was gone, they seized Paul and Silas and dragged them into the market-place before the authorities. When they had brought them before the magistrates, they said, ‘These men are disturbing our city; they are Jews and are advocating customs that are not lawful for us as Romans to adopt or observe.’ The crowd joined in attacking them, and the magistrates had them stripped of their clothing and ordered them to be beaten with rods. After they had given them a severe flogging, they threw them into prison and ordered the jailer to keep them securely. Following these instructions, he put them in the innermost cell and fastened their feet in the stocks.

About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them. Suddenly there was an earthquake, so violent that the foundations of the prison were shaken; and immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s chains were unfastened. When the jailer woke up and saw the prison doors wide open, he drew his sword and was about to kill himself, since he supposed that the prisoners had escaped. But Paul shouted in a loud voice, ‘Do not harm yourself, for we are all here.’ The jailer called for lights, and rushing in, he fell down trembling before Paul and Silas. Then he brought them outside and said, ‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’ They answered, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.’ They spoke the word of the Lord to him and to all who were in his house. At the same hour of the night he took them and washed their wounds; then he and his entire family were baptized without delay. He brought them up into the house and set food before them; and he and his entire household rejoiced that he had become a believer in God.’

I wonder what you have been learning the last couple months as we have been under Stay-at-Home and now Stay-Safe Minnesota orders. I wonder what blessings have been revealed. Despite boredom or anxiety, loneliness, grief or chaos, what has you delighted at this moment? 

I have enjoyed walking in my neighborhood and seeing all kinds of people out. People I’ve never met. People with whom I do a little dance to see who will step into the street or cross to the other side to avoid walking in each other’s path. 

I appreciate the fact that the back of my linen closet is slightly less cluttered. What better time might there be to use up the little shampoo bottles that accumulate after a trip?

And I’m struck by the new lens I bring to the Bible when I read it with “pandemic eyes.” Scripture sounds different when the whole world has stopped abruptly and is on pause. Details jump off the page or seemingly rearrange themselves as they shout to be heard. 

We’re reading stories and speeches from the Book of Acts these days. Over the course of six weeks, we’re reading 11 stories. It’s a book that was written to help people understand what it meant to follow Jesus when he was no longer with them. It’s a book that was written for people who had grown weary of waiting, who had thought things would transpire differently than they had, and they wondered what God was up to. It’s a book written to remind them and us that God is still alive and still present. But it’s a book that confuses us a little. Last week, Professor Matt Skinner joined the Acts bible study on Zoom and said that people wonder what to do with these stories because in some ways, they seem like fairy tales. But they were written to help us imagine what it looks like to be the Body of Christ in the world right now. 

Today’s story has a little bit of that magical character. A man from Macedonia comes to Paul in a vision in the middle of the night and says, “Come to Macedonia and help us.” So Paul and two of his comrades set sail immediately and cross to the island of Macedonia, and they make their way to Philippi. They begin a little community of believers who gathers each day for worship outside the city at the river’s edge. 

And as they walk through town each day, there’s a slave-girl who announces their presence by yelling, “These men are slaves of the most High God who proclaim to you a way of salvation!” What she says is true, but Paul finds her obnoxious, so he orders the spirit to come out of her. 

It turns out, the men who trafficked in the girl’s gifts were upset that she could no longer make money for them, so they cook up false charges, and Paul and Silas end up in jail. “These foreigners are disturbing our city,” they say. “They’re not fitting in. They’re a threat to our way of life. We are exceptional, after all.” So a system designed to keep in place those who are in power swiftly finds a way to humiliate outsiders and dispose of them in the innermost cell of the jail. They are guarded by a jailor who will pay with his own life if the prisoners should escape.

Far from the light of day, in a place forgotten by the outside, Paul and Silas are bound in chains alongside other prisoners. For all intents and purposes, all hope is gone, but Paul and Silas are not without hope. They begin to sing and pray, and the other prisoners take notice. Then out of the blue, an earthquake shakes the prison to its foundation. Oddly enough, rather than toppling walls and ceilings, it opens the door to the outside. There is nothing to prevent the prisoners from escaping, and in fact, the jailer assumes they will have done so. But Paul saves him by saying, “We’re here. Don’t harm yourself.” Salvation comes to the jailer. 

Paul and Silas — slaves of the most high God — proclaim a way of salvation for the jailer. He receives a path forward, an opportunity for life to continue. “What must I do to be saved?” he asks. He has already been saved when his life was spared. But he wants to know, how can I experience the fullness of life that Paul and Silas have. They introduce him to Jesus and a life lived in relationship with God, and the jailer takes them to his home where he and his family are baptized that very night. 

Deep truths are named in this short passage. Power will go to great lengths to maintain power. Greed and avarice corrupt. Outsiders are unwelcome.  And slaves are dehumanized as others lay claim to their bodies and gifts. All is not right with the world. And so a man from Macedonia appears to Paul in a dream and says, “Come help us.”

All is not right with the world for us either. And with our “pandemic eyes,” we can’t help but ask, Why did Paul and Silas and the other prisoners not leave when the door was opened? The story gives not even a passing glance to the question. The story is about the salvation that comes to the jailor. 

And yet, we wonder, Why did Paul and Silas stay when they didn’t have to? Isn’t that what salvation means?

Bill McKibben is an author and environmentalist who finds hope in a unique freedom that humans have — the freedom of restraint. Of all the creatures, he says, “the most curious of lives are the human ones, because we can destroy, but also because we can decide not to destroy. The turtle does what she does, and magnificently. She can’t not do it, though, any more than the beaver can decide to take a break from building dams, or the bee from making honey. But if the bird’s special gift is flight, ours is the possibility of restraint. We’re the only creature who can decide not to do something we’re capable of doing. That’s our superpower, even if we exercise it too rarely.

Why did Paul and Silas stay in jail? Perhaps the better question is: What does it mean to be free?

Martin Luther famously wrote two seemingly contradictory propositions: A Christian is utterly free, lord of all, subject to none.  A Christian is utterly dutiful, servant of all, subject to all. By faith, he says, God sets us free in Christ. We are lord of all and subject to none. But love binds us as servant to the neighbor, subject to everyone. It’s the paradox of Christian freedom. 

We have been staying home for over two months now. There are no shackles on our feet or locks on the outside of our doors. But, except for essential work, essential shopping and exercise, we have mostly been staying close to home. It hasn’t been without cost. But we have done it for love of the neighbor. 

We have all kinds of choices right now. We can pretend this pandemic doesn’t exist. We can pretend that our actions don’t impact others, that we’re not responsible for each other, but in fact, that’s not true. We are interconnected. God calls us to love our neighbor. The truth is, we will have to keep sorting out what it means to act in solidarity with others. But we can start by asking, “What does my neighbor need?” rather than “To what does my freedom entitle me?”

Like the slave-girl in the story of Paul and Silas, there are far too many of us who can disappear and be forgotten. Christ calls us to feed the hungry, to care for the sick, to remember the disabled, to shelter the refugee, to protect the abused, to comfort the grieving, and to pray for the dying. That’s our work. That’s how we love and serve God as the Body of Christ today. 

Some of us are grieving that we can’t come to the building right now to gather for worship and to sing. It is a profound loss.  But our work goes beyond the building, and we are blessed by technology that allows us to stay connected. 

Here’s the promise: there is no jail, no prison, no empire, no pandemic that can restrain what God is doing in the world right now. God’s love for us in Christ brings freedom and a future and a hope. It’s not up to us to make it happen. But it includes us. Like the jailor and his family, baptism sets us on a new course and tells us who we are and how to live. In baptism, we died to sin and were raised to new life with Christ. The pattern of his life becomes our life. We make our way through life hobbling and stumbling, but with our eyes fixed on Jesus. We find him at the cross and in all the dark places of our lives. And his promise is true. We are named beloved, he says. We are invited on a journey with him to love and heal the universe. It includes dark times and doubt and pain, but he will never leave us. 

The promise is yours. May it fill your heart with hope and confidence for the future. Amen.