April 22, 2018 “Who Are You?” – Acts 19:8-22

Acts 19:8-22
“Who Are You?”
April 22, 2018 – Fourth Sunday of Easter

I just e-filed our tax returns and ran into something new this year. No, the big tax changes, which are probably going to cost us more next year, haven’t happened yet. But in order to e-file this time I had to provide our driver’s license numbers. The IRS wants yet one more proof of identity before accepting a return.

Proving who you are these days are is constantly changing. It used to be that a signature did it. You signed your name on a tax return or a credit card receipt and that was that. But a little over a week ago, Mastercard quit requiring signatures for credit card purposes and the other big card companies are expected to do the same before the end of the month. It’s not a signature but a chip which now makes transactions secure.

A big discussion is going on among businesses about whether to give up passwords as a means of logging onto devices. Biometrics like fingerprints and facial and retinal scans seem to be the order of the day, yet another way to prove who you are.

Despite all the technology of establishing and protecting our identities, many of us still wonder who we are. High levels of encryption and opening our phones by facial recognition don’t really address that question. What would you answer if some demon came along and asked you what was asked in verse 15, “but who are you?”

Paul knew who he was. By the time he came to stay in Ephesus, he was crystal clear about his identity as an apostle and preacher of Jesus Christ. We see him here at the height of his confidence and strength. In verses 8 and 9 Paul speaks persuasively in the synagogue, but is once again rejected there. Some of those in the synagogue refused to believe him and “spoke evil of the Way.” That’s was Christian faith. It wasn’t just a good story, it wasn’t merely a moving message—Christianity was a way, a way of life. Paul was its best advocate.

Sure of himself, Paul held meetings in a borrowed lecture hall. Tyrannus, whoever he was, gave lectures at the usual time, in the morning. But in the afternoons, during Mediterranean siesta time, the hall was free. That’s when Paul used it. His preaching was so powerful that verse 10 tells us that for two years both Jews and Greeks gave up their nap time and came in the heat of the day to learn about Jesus.

His self-confidence shows up even more clearly in verses 11 and 12 where we read that “God did extraordinary miracles through Paul,” literally “by Paul’s hands.” There was even what we might deem the cheesiest kind of healing miracle. Items of cloth which had touched Paul were carried to the sick and healed them. It sounds to us like a televangelist scam, God made it happen. Paul knew who he was. So did everyone else in Ephesus.

Paul knew who he was because he knew who Jesus is, because he knew that Name. But in verse 13 we meet some Jewish exorcists who tried to use that name of Jesus without really knowing who He or who they were. Jewish sorcerers were in great demand in the ancient world. Hebrew was an exotic language that sounded magical. It still does. When I hear that blessing from Numbers that I often use, “The Lord bless you and keep you…” chanted in Hebrew it is hauntingly beautiful. There does seem to be magic in that language.

Jewish sorcery was enhanced by the belief that there is power in names, a belief often connected with magic. Oregon author Ursula Le Guin died this year. In her Earthsea trilogy, wizards do magic by learning the true names of things and people. Archaeology has uncovered a number of ancient magic scrolls full of spells and occult names. In Scripture the true name of God in Hebrew is powerful. To this day it is never pronounced by truly devout Jews. I cringe a little when we Christians thoughtlessly use it in praise songs.

These seven exorcists were sons of the Jewish high priest, so they had the “creds,” if you will with magic Hebrew names. They saw what Paul did in Jesus’ name, thinking they had found a new spell. Verse 13 says literally they tried to drive out demons by “naming the name of Jesus over those who had evil spirits.” They said, “I adjure you by the name of Jesus whom Paul proclaims.” They tried to cash in on a couple of powerful names.

The fun starts when one particular evil spirit acknowledges that he knows those two magic names. “Jesus I know, and Paul I know.” James 2:19 tells us demons do know about God and His power. They know it “and tremble” says James. But this spirit was not trembling. He mocked those seven hapless wizards. Jesus has power, and Paul was clearly the servant of Jesus, “but who are you?” laughs the demon.

If Hollywood were filming the episode, the possessed man’s head would spin around full circle, his body would levitate and all the objects in the room would fly around. A maniacal smile would twist his features and his voice would drop an octave and start echoing. Luke doesn’t tells us about any of that, but he makes it clear the man with the spirit had supernatural strength. In verse 16, he jumped on all seven of the magicians, beat them up, tore off their clothes and sent them running naked out of the house.

The sons of Sceva are a warning to anyone who would like to enjoy the power and blessing of Jesus Christ without a genuine acquaintance and connection with Him. Jesus is not magic. You can’t just speak His name and expect great things. Christianity is much, much more than just a few incantations of the right names. You are not a Christian just because you say “Jesus,” even if you say it all the time.

Just recently Beth told me about a student of hers who got a concussion playing a sport. She didn’t seek medical help. Other students gathered around to rebuke the “evil spirit” of the pain in the name of Jesus. Then that woman suffered terrible headaches and walked around in a daze for several days. Beth and others finally convinced her to get medical attention. Prayer in Jesus name without seeking the medical help Jesus makes available is not great faith. It’s like trying to do magic using Jesus’ name. It’s a gross misunderstanding of the way Jesus really calls us to live. Doing the opposite, trusting in medicine without praying, is also a misunderstanding of His way.

Christianity was called “the Way.” Knowing Jesus meant encounter with a living person, to walk with Him, as our vision statement says. Believing in Jesus meant to be in Him, as Paul would often put it. To know Jesus is to place yourself firmly in His Way, to see life from His perspective, to find your very identity wholly and completely in Him.

When Paul wrote letters back to the churches he founded he would always identify himself in connection with Jesus, “Paul, an apostle of Christ Jesus,” “Paul and Timothy, servants of Christ Jesus,” “Paul, called to be an apostle of Christ Jesus.” He always states his identity in terms of Jesus, in terms which show that Jesus changed who he is.

That message about real identity in Jesus spread in Ephesus as the story of Sceva’s sons was told. Verse 17 says, “everyone was awestruck; and the name of the Lord Jesus was praised.” Jesus’ name was not to be trifled with. Saying “Jesus” was no magic trick. The citizens of Ephesus began to realize Jesus was Lord, that He had power over them, that knowing Him must change the way they lived.

So in verses 18 and 19 they confessed their sins and burnt their magic scrolls. It must have been a huge bonfire. The scrolls were worth fifty thousand drachmas, 50,000 pieces of silver worth about a day’s wages. Make that Oregon minimum wage and it comes out at over 4 million dollars worth of magic books!

Believing in Jesus meant changing occupations, destroying the tools of an evil trade, and a huge financial sacrifice. That bonfire of vain spells meant following the Jesus Way called for a new way of life, a whole new identity.

You and I are so comfortable with the name of Jesus that it is easy for us to take for granted or even to forget how radical a change of identity is required by His name. We imagine that simply knowing His name, praying it now and then, is all there is to Christian faith. We forget the repentance, the financial sacrifice, the whole new identity.

We forget our identity in Jesus partly because we try to follow Him alone. Last year in Alaska I was astounded when native pastors serving in tiny villages of three or four hundred people complained that people in their village would stay home and watch “church on television” instead of joining others to worship. I guess it shouldn’t have been so surprising because I meet people all the time who think they can be Christian or at least “spiritual” all on their own. But it doesn’t really work.

It is difficult to maintain a Christian identity, to be in Christ, when you do not put yourself where Jesus is. And He said He is where His people gather. Faith is not merely individually believing in Jesus or claiming His name. To be a Christian means to join yourself to Jesus’ people, to live a different sort of life in community, to identify with those who identify with Jesus.

That was part of the problem for the sons of Sceva. They tried to practice the name of Jesus outside the community where His name was known and understood. They wanted to believe in the power of “Jesus” without acknowledging and joining those who knew and loved the person who has that name. They tried to harness Christian spiritual energy without being part of a Christian church. That will never work.

We go to all the trouble to gather here, week in and week out, because to have a true identity in Christ you need to be with Christ’s people. We construct and maintain buildings not because we identify with wood and concrete, but because we identify with each other in Jesus. We need places to get together to be who we are, in Christ. We cannot be in Christ on our own, alone. Our identity in Jesus is a corporate identity.

In Charles Dickens’ novel, A Tale of Two Cities, we meet Dr. Manette. He has lost his identity, literally. He no longer knows who or where he is. He sits in a dark attic room, tapping away with a hammer, making shoes. When people comes to visit him, he does not look up. He does not realize anyone is there. When visitors come and ask questions, he responds reluctantly. His answers make no connection with reality.

When one of them asks who it is that makes the shoes, Manette is confused: “Did you ask me for my name?” Assured that such a question had been asked, all the doctor can say is, “One Hundred and Five, North Tower.”

Manette had been imprisoned in the French Bastille, isolated and tortured. He has lost his mind, lost himself. He is no longer in cell “One Hundred and Five, North Tower,” but thinks he is. He does not know that he is free. Like a caged tiger, he paces the dimensions of the cell even when no longer in the cell. He is a prisoner of his own mind.

The doctor’s redemption comes as visitors interact with him, begin to offer him reminders that he has another identity, even a family. His daughter Lucie embraces him and weeps over him and shows him that he is loved. He has a name and an identity which is not a cell number. He wonders at her name, and she replies, “O, sir, at another time you shall know my name, and who my mother was, and who my father, and how I never knew their hard, hard history.” She weeps and speaks of home and family and peace and rest. Then they gather him up and bring him from France to England where he will be safe.

Over the next few years, Dr. Manette recovers his mind and takes up a small medical practice and scientific work once again. One bit of his ordeal remains. He keeps a shoemaker’s bench in his bedroom. Whenever he is reminded of France and of his sufferings, a cloud steals over him. Then Lucie hears through the door the tap, tap, tap of a hammer, as once again the doctor forgets who he is and returns to making shoes.

After several years, Manette receives an awful blow to his stability. For over a week he reverts to being again the prisoner of “One Hundred and Five, North Tower.” For nine days and nights he does nothing but make shoes. Only the love of two friends, Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross, saves him. They sit by him, taking watches round the clock. Bit by bit they call him back to himself, remind him of who he really is, lovingly give him back his identity, until one morning he wakes in his right mind. Then, gently seeking his permission, Lorry and Pross smash and burn the shoemaker’s bench forever.

We all need friends like Mr. Lorry and Miss Pross. We need others who will be with us when we forget that we belong to Jesus, when pain and suffering or else the pleasure and entertainment of life causes us to forget our real identity. We need those who will sit by us and call us back to faith and hope and love in Christ Jesus. We cannot do it alone. We cannot be Christians alone. We have no identity alone. Without each other in Christ, the demons will ask, “but who are you?” and we will have no answer. Then we will be beaten, naked and running for our lives.

That is why we come here, that is why we have these buildings, these “gathering places.” So many people have lost themselves like Dr. Manette. So many are harassed and chased by evil spirits which allow them no peace. We are here to remember together that there is peace, there is joy, there is identity in Jesus Christ. And we usually do that well, but not always.

Many years ago now, I ran into a woman who visited our church several times, over several months. I had not seen her here in some time and so I simply said, “You know, I’ve missed seeing you. It would be wonderful to greet you in church again.” She smiled and said “Thank you” and turned away. I walked on. Then I heard her call my name. She had followed me. She had more to say.

She said, “I decided I want to be completely honest with you. There’s a reason I have not been back. I’m a shy person, but I want to be included, to have friends. Your people were so friendly during the greeting time, but when the service was over, no one talked to me. No one invited me to join them for a cup of coffee. I just stood there for a few moments each Sunday and then I left. I felt left out. I just wanted someone to ask me to stay, to want to get to know me, to offer more than just a handshake. I can’t approach people. I needed someone to come to me.”

It was a long time ago. No one here need feel guilty. And even if you do, our identity in Jesus is as people whose guilt is forgiven. I only tell you this to remind us who we are and why we are here. We all need what that woman needed, someone to welcome us, to get to know us. We need one another, but we must remember that there are so many others who need us because they need the love and grace of Jesus.

In a recent Christianity Today article, Rebecca McLaughlin wrote about why she sometimes doesn’t sit with her husband in church. It’s not because they are fighting. It’s because it gives them opportunities to welcome someone new, especially someone alone. It’s not a denial of their love for each other, but a way to share Jesus’ love with people who need a place to belong in Him, to believe in Him, to be known in Him. They need His identity. A church is a place where the name of Jesus is named and received in friendship and love, where we sometimes give up a bit of our own comfort and convenience so that someone else feels, welcomed, loved and connected with Jesus.

The president of our denomination likes to say that “Covenant” means “in it together.” We are who we are together, in Jesus, in His name. The church in Ephesus learned that too, that their identity was found together in Him. That’s why verse 20 begins, “So…” which means “Thus” or “In this way,” the way of community, the way of identity together in Jesus, “the word of the Lord grew mightily and prevailed.” That will be true here too, the Word of our Lord Jesus will prevail as we help each other worship Him and welcome others into this community.

Amen.