The very night before Herod was going to bring him out, Peter, bound with two chains, was sleeping between two soldiers, while guards in front of the door were keeping watch over the prison. Suddenly an angel of the Lord appeared, and a light shone in the cell. He tapped Peter on the side and woke him, saying, “Get up quickly.” And the chains fell off his wrists. The angel said to him, “Fasten your belt and put on your sandals.” He did so. Then he said to him, “Wrap your cloak around you and follow me.” Peter went out and followed him; he did not realize that what was happening with the angel’s help was real; he thought he was seeing a vision. After they had passed the first and the second guard, they came before the iron gate leading into the city. It opened for them of its own accord, and they went outside and walked along a lane, when suddenly the angel left him. Then Peter came to himself and said, “Now I am sure that the Lord has sent his angel and rescued me from the hands of Herod and from all that the Jewish people were expecting.”
As soon as he realized this, he went to the house of Mary, the mother of John whose other name was Mark, where many had gathered and were praying. When he knocked at the outer gate, a maid named Rhoda came to answer. On recognizing Peter’s voice, she was so overjoyed that, instead of opening the gate, she ran in and announced that Peter was standing at the gate. They said to her, “You are out of your mind!” But she insisted that it was so. They said, “It is his angel.” Meanwhile Peter continued knocking, and when they opened the gate they saw him and were amazed. He motioned to them with his hand to be silent and described for them how the Lord had brought him out of the prison. And he added, “Tell this to James and to the brothers and sisters.” Then he left and went to another place. --Acts 12:6-17 (NRSV)
Grace and peace to you from God our Creator, and from our risen Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.
Who do we trust? Or rather, whose stories do we trust?
I pretty much grew up a redneck in a state that, at that time, was probably 98% white and very religiously and ideologically conservative. So, many things were declared sinful, untrustworthy, or even evil. People of color. Queer people. Immigrants. Native Americans. People of other religious beliefs. If you didn’t fit into the nice, neat box I had been taught to create, well, then there was something wrong with you.
I also grew up very naive. I believed that the leaders in our community were trustworthy. That they did the right things for our community, never acting in their own self-interest. I believed that they treated everyone the same, treating all people equally. I believed that, if there was income disparity or any other kind of inequality - in my hometown, especially with Native Americans - then that was because of what someone did or didn’t do, or the choices they made - but, not because they had been treated inequitably.
There were stories of people I trusted. And stories of people I didn’t trust.
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When I moved to Los Angeles, you can imagine the mind-blowing experience I had. All of a sudden, I was surrounded by people who were gay, people of color, people of other ethnicities and nationalities, people of other religions, and on and on. The diversity there was all new to me, fascinating, and yet, at times, overwhelming. It was not long after I moved there that Los Angeles County became a place where there was no majority ethnic group. No longer did white people have majority status. No group had majority status.
Over the years, I built a diverse group of friends. One of those included a fellow organizer - a Mexican-American from Wisconsin. He shared stories with me about being stopped numerous times driving while brown. I argued with him. I challenged his perception, that perhaps he had a chip on his shoulder. I didn’t believe him. For years. Until videos started popping up on social media sharing the real-life experiences of people of color, how often they are stopped by the police for bogus or very minor issues - things for which you and I would probably never be stopped. And I was ashamed. Ashamed that I had not believed him. My good friend.
I felt similarly about a friend who was queer. I’d moved from believing that being gay was a sin. But, I had not yet moved to a place of understanding that being gay for him was his identity. It was who he was. It wasn’t a lifestyle choice. But I didn’t fully trust his story. Until one day we had a deep conversation about this and he said to me, “Who would choose this as a lifestyle? Who would choose a lifestyle in which one would be despised, humiliated, shamed or shunned? Who in their right mind would choose to be gay?” Finally, I got it - and began to trust his story.
Our story today, while it may be a little outlandish and a little humorous, has underneath it this question of whose stories we trust. It starts with Peter in prison and the empire pushing back - these empirical institutions in place in our world that we trust to use power that isn't abusive. That’s clearly not what we see in this text. Here, the government and religious leaders are cracking down on these renegade Jewish Christ-followers. Arresting them. Persecuting them. And even, if we move a few verses earlier in the chapter, murdering them. Under the guise of keeping order, of maintaining the status quo, when the truth is that it is about keeping power. At any cost.
Then, there is Rhoda. Not a maid or an attendant, but a slave. She shares the news of Peter’s arrival and no. one. listens to her. No one believes her story. Not until they experience it or witness Peter at the door themselves. Why don’t they believe her? Why does this community - this Christian community - dismiss her witness? Is it because she’s a slave - not viewed as a living being, but as chattel, as property to be owned? Is it because she’s a woman, viewed similarly - again, as property? Or is it because her story, too, is about empire? About power and control. About who is on top. Or not. And about whose stories we trust in our communities. And whose we don’t.
Whose stories do you trust? Whose stories don’t you trust?
We may not be able to do much about empire - just as the early Christian community could do little about Herod. But, what is most threatening to empire is the power of the resurrection - something we know vividly from the story of Jesus, his crucifixion and his resurrection, which is the ultimate resistance story. Our job isn’t to topple the empires - that work lies in the hands of our Creator. But our job - as followers of Christ - is to live lives that bear witness to the power of the resurrection. To lean towards those, as Jesus did, who are without power and control. To listen to their stories. To trust their truths.
Years later, I went back to my Mexican-American friend and apologized for dismissing his story, for not believing him. He graciously accepted it. I thank God for that and, especially, that we are still friends. And as the days pass, I’m grateful that I still get to hear and learn more about his truth and to continue learning to trust his story as much as I trust my own. He and so many of my other friends have taught me the beauty in trusting each other’s stories and in trusting each other in all our God-given diversity.
May God give us the courage to listen and to believe. Amen.
Preached May 12, 2024, at Grace & Glory, Goshen, KY, and Third/MOSAIC, Louisville, KY.
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