The Gift of Desperation

Acts 2:42-47

When the 120 apostles were meeting in the upper room on the night of Pentecost, Jew outside who were on their pilgrimage to the temple in Jerusalem heard what was going on. Their heads were spinning as they were trying to figure out what was going on. They heard people speaking in their own languages, and they weren't on the pilgrimage. Something was going on in that room that was even bigger than the celebrated Festival of Weeks going on with thousands in the city.

Some were shocked when they heard it. Others assumed the apostles were drunk. When Peter overheard the accusations of drunkenness, he gave a dispensation that rocked the world of the Jews standing outside. Using the narrative that all of them were familiar with, he took the words of the prophet Joel and tied them into the current situations surrounding the death of Jesus. Using the scriptures the Jews knew like the palm of their hands, Peter helped them to realize they had nailed the One they'd been waiting for to a cross. They killed their Rescue.

When the Jews standing outside of the building heard the full discourse, all they could ask was, "What shall we do?" The ones listening and hearing what Peter was saying were in shock. They not only believed what he was saying, but immediately realized that they had condemned their Savior to death. Guilt pierced their hearts as they realized the crime they'd committed, and the desperation of pardon that filled their souls gave them the willingness to do whatever it took to right their wrongs. As devout Jews who knew how to follow the religious laws, they were bent on making wrongs right. So, Paul told them to start changing their lives right then and there, to believe in the Jesus whom they'd just condemned to death, and to be baptized. Then, he told them they'd receive the Holy Spirit.

But, it didn't stop there.

The desperation didn't stop.

The knowledge of what they had done didn't go away.

Their remorse followed them wherever they went.

They were willing to do whatever it took to right their wrongs. So, they:

Committed themselves to the teaching of the apostles.
Committed themselves to the life together.
Committed themselves to the common meal.
Committed themselves to the prayers.
Lived in wonderful harmony.
Held everything in common.
Sold whatever they owned.
Pooled their resources so that each person's needs were met.
Followed a daily discipline of worship.
Shared daily meals at home.
Praise God together daily.

The desperation originally caused by the guilt of having sent an innocent man to hang on a Roman cross turned into a desperation to know and follow that same man. So, it doesn't surprise me that almost two thousand years later I look around and wonder where this desperation went.

We look at how this ragamuffin group formed, and evolved, and committed, and lived, and write it off as a significant thing to do at the time. But, how can we blame ourselves or anybody else for not mimicking the goings-on of the early apostles and converts? They were desperate.

So, the question isn't, "How can we start doing what they did?"
The question is, "Where has the desperation gone?"

For them, their commitments together weren't just another ministry opportunity. It wasn't just another para-church organization. It was life and death staring each of them in the face. It was the guilt of knowing they'd done something completely wrong, and then wanting to make it right. It was the desperation of knowing that these apostles had something they wanted, and it had something to do with the man they hung on a cross.

I'm less concerned about starting another group that tries to live out what these early apostles and converts lived out, and more concerned about finding someone, anyone, whose desperate to make right their wrongs and to learn about this Jesus.

The closest I can come to this sort of desperation is my own life of alcoholism. When I walked into the rooms of A.A., and my mind started clearing up, I knew that this deal was much bigger than I had anticipated. I realized I'd been a tornado rummaging through the lives of everyone. I knew that if I didn't stick close to the people who'd been sober, I wouldn't have a chance. And, I later learned that if I didn't hold onto God, I wasn't going to make it. And so it goes. There's no cure for alcoholism, so alcoholics across the world meet in rooms on a daily basis, sharing their experience with the newcomer, sharing meals, and sticking together as if they were saved from a terrible shipwreck. To drink again is to die, so we stick together, trying to enlarge our spiritual lives to the best of our abilities. We have to let God take complete control of our lives if we have any hope of not drinking again.

It's hard to take my experience in A.A., then to step into a church building on Sunday, and not wonder, "Where's the desperation here?"

The people of Acts didn't just sit around and decide to start a commune. It was a response to something much, much deeper. It was the result of hearts and minds so stricken with grief that they were willing to go to any length to develop and maintain a relationship with the man they'd taken to the cross.

They were sorry for what they'd done, and wanted to know how to make it right. And, the results were: harmony, joy, celebration, growth, praise, giving, eating, and new life.

May we find the desperation necessary to share the kind of life that started in a quaint, upper room in the bustling city of Jerusalem.