Acts

Nine trans Christians tell their stories.

In Athens, the apostle bears witness—and doesn't try to be cool.

Many people are bound. Some don’t even know it. The difference between being free and being bound is at the center of our Gospel text this week.

Those who heard the disciples preach on Pentecost comprehended the message in their own language. But that was only the beginning.

Go to Google Images and look at some depictions of the ascension. This makes clear how difficult a festival this is for contemporary believers to celebrate.

I have always been intrigued by Lydia. Acts describes her as a worshiper of God, one whose heart has been opened, a dealer in purple cloth, and a woman willing to offer her home for others to stay. She is often associated with images of hospitality in the church.

In Acts comes Luke’s imaginative way to build upon ancient stories. The tongues of fire are no longer seen from afar on top of God’s mountain. And the multiplicity of languages becomes God’s vehicle for bringing salvation to the entire world.

Pentecost offers a vision for Europe: not one megastate or one system for everything, but a model of diversity as peace.

The reading from Revelation 22 concludes the book’s resurrection songs: the baptized enjoy the fruits of the tree of life.  But the tree is not merely one of the countless archetypal trees that religions and cultures everywhere have imagined.

On Ascension Day, with the readings from Luke and Acts in danger of being embalmed by archaism, the reading from Ephesians is a gift.

While the apostles welcome Matthias into his new role, I want to sit with Barsabbas, the one who was rejected.

"I dream of walking the streets of Damascus," sighed a Syrian refugee whose radio interview I heard on my evening commute. His voice trailed off into a wistful silence. I had been engrossed in his story, but at the interview's end, my mind connected the refugee's lament and longing for a Damascus road story of long ago.

On Sunday, we hear the story from John 21 of Jesus and Peter on the beach. Jesus asks Peter three times, "Do you love me?" and three times Peter answers, "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you." Then Jesus tells him, "Feed my sheep." We also hear about how Saul became the apostle Paul, on the road to Damascus. Here he was, on the way to persecute the followers of the Way, and out of the blue, Jesus speaks to him, too: "Saul, Saul, why are you persecuting me?" There he is struck blind, and when he sees again, he has a new calling as a follower of Jesus and a missionary to the gentiles.

On one Sunday, we hear stories of two of the main characters from the New Testament. But I can't help being drawn to Ananias.

Learning a language requires us to focus our attention on something outside ourselves. It's a lot like learning to pray.

I can still smell the wet canvas and sawdust of my father's revivals. He believed that any self-respecting revival was held in a tent.

California is in a severe drought. Normally it rains in the time from mid-October to March, but for the past few years it has been bone dry. Some say we may only have a year of water left. We are thirsty.

It is clear in Acts 2 that a party is taking place—that dreams and visions are not meant to be dreamt alone.

When the Ascension coincides with Lailat al-Mi‘rāj, perhaps Christians and Muslims can spare a sidelong glance.