By What Name

It was after Pentecost. Peter and John were walking in the courtyard of the temple when a lame beggar asked them for alms. Peter took the beggar by the hand and said,

"I have no silver or gold ,but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk" (Acts4:6). To the astonishment of the onlookers, the man was instantly healed, and praised God joyously. A crowd gathered, wondering how such a miracle was possible, and Peter saw an opportunity to present the Gospel. This upset the elders and Sadducees, and they had Peter and John arrested.

Why? Not because the lame man had been healed. There were all sorts of itinerant preachers and magicians and wonder-workers in first-century Palestine. The elders arrested Peter and John anticipating their answer to the question posed in verse 7: "By what power or by what name did you do this?"

The Sadducees were worried. "The name" was not just a combination of letters to form a word. The name "Jesus" was a common enough one in that day. But claiming the power of the name of Jesus Christ was a direct challenge to their security. Jesus Christ was the one they crucified, the one whom some people claimed was Messiah, the one they were afraid had indeed risen from the dead.

Now Peter was identifying signs and wonders with the itinerant rabbi who had also done signs and wonders, and claiming that by the name of Jesus Christ comes salvation, forgiveness of sins, healing, and the resurrection of the dead: this was drawing on power far greater than theirs, and that frightened them.

We would say we are not frightened that way today. We do not worry about maintaining

equilibrium with the Roman Empire, or collecting temple taxes, or people respecting our

interpretation of the Law and the prophets. We have seen television preachers make grandiose claims and draw huge followings, only to disappear from the public eye in disgrace. Claiming something to be the truth about Jesus Christ does not threaten our security as it did for those who placed Peter and John on trial.

But a very curious reversal seems to have taken place in the intervening centuries. Most people present this morning, I am sure, would identify themselves as Christians, that is, people who bear the name of Jesus Christ and call themselves followers of the Messiah. Some would even want to claim that the prevailing culture is - or was at one time - Christian. And yet the way we live and proclaim our faith is calculated not to offend any elders or Sadducees we encounter. In a multicultural, pluralistic society, "nice people" bend over backward to avoid claiming the power of Jesus' name. Almost anything is preferable to the offense of hearing others talk about him, and what he means to them, or being asked what he means to us.

How many have abandoned the name of Jesus Christ, and given it over to religious

eccentrics and blasphemers? Only weird people in train stations or at Promise Keeper rallies talkabout their faith openly. We don't like the methods used by strong-arm evangelists or cult

members or even more extroverted brothers and sisters in the faith. We're proud that we would never act like that, and the result is that we do not have much to say about Jesus, in public witness or private conversation.

The name of Jesus has become the last taboo. I read about a local congregation that had its centennial not long ago. The members made a huge banner to go on the side of the building: "Celebrating 100 Years of Community Service."

Community service? Is that anything distinct from what the Kiwanis or Lions Club or or your precinct captain's Office does? Or consider the television series about ostensibly religious characters in recent years: Nothing Sacred, Touched by An Angel, Seventh Heaven, Amazing Grace. The name of Jesus is conspicuous by its absence.

In new hymnals published by mainline denominations, there is a notable decrease in the number of hymns naming the person of Jesus. We sing, "they'll know we are Christians

by our love, by our love," as though by loving people enough, Jesus Christ will be absorbed by osmosis. It is almost like living in Old Testament times, when it was forbidden to say the name of Yahweh. But back then it was forbidden out of reverence, not out of embarrassment or shame. When Jesus' name is not proclaimed, his power to heal and forgive are not experienced by his people.

It may be that we shy away from the name of Jesus because we're troubled by verse

12 and its seemingly exclusive claims. We shrink away from evangelism that seems to

proclaim no salvation outside Jesus Christ:

"What about people who never had the opportunity to hear the Gospel? Remote tribes and all that?"

And that's a real theological concern—what about all the obvious holy men and women of other faith traditions? Will the Dali Lama go to heaven? Did Ghandi make the cut? What about the Jews? Or faithful, peace loving Muslims? Not to mention devout Mormons? I once heard a debate between two evangelical Christians about whether or not Pope John Paul II would go to heaven. Older Roman Catholic acquaintances tell me they were taught in their religious schools that there was no salvation for anyone not ordained or in a religious order.

Personally, I trust God will sort out such questions with mercy and tolerance. I figure that a good Catholic will get into heaven faster than a bad Methodist. As Pope Francis commented when asked about faithful LGBT folk getting into heaven, “If they are a good person, who am I to judge?”

But I suspect than on the whole, we are less concerned about well-meaning people in faraway places as we are anxious to excuse ourselves from bearing witness to Christ right where we are. This gets to the root of the matter: we lack the boldness to use the name of Jesus because we afraid of that power in our own lives. The prospect of a life-changing encounter with the living Lord is awesome and terrifying, and some of us aren't ready for that.

Intimacy with Jesus can turn your life upside down, as Simon Peter's life amply

demonstrates. It changes your values as well as your conversation. In the presence of the

resurrected Savior, you realize that you are with one who knows the dark side of your life as well as your public face; one who knows things you've hidden successfully from the elders and Sadducees; one who knows you better than you know yourself. This Jesus, who knows your failures and weaknesses and anxieties about the future, is the one who can take away the burden you are carrying. Jesus is the one who can give you a new life. Jesus is the one who saves and heals.

And when you invoke the holy name of Jesus, the powers that would silence you hold no power over you. When you confess the one whose name is Jesus as your Lord, life is transformed. Like Peter, you can be changed from a hot-tempered, two-faced coward (or whatever sin besets you) into someone radiant, joyful, brave; someone who participates in God's ongoing work of redemption through the power of Jesus' name.

Some wit once said, "Happiness is like potato salad. Share it, and you have a picnic." Faith in Jesus, and daring to utter his name, may be said to work in an analogous way. Sharing who Jesus is and what he has done begets other sharing, and opens people to the ongoing power of Christ's Spirit in the world. We see it in the book of Acts and we may see it in the world around us. There is happiness in witnessing what God has done and continues to do in other lives.

In Scandalous Risks, one of Susan Howatch's novels about the Church of England in the 20^th century, one of the characters caught up in an obsessive relationship makes the wry observation: "By this time I had discovered that if one is violently in love the desire to talk constantly about the object of one's passion is very strong."

If this is true (and I believe it is), what does it suggestabout the depth of our love for Jesus Christ? What a privilege it is to bear the name of Christ, and become a vehicle for that saving, healing power. Thanks be to God for those who have the name of Jesus on their lips and in their hearts.