Sunday, March 28, 2021

IX Artemas and the church in Crete (Huh?)

 

Why pay attention to Artemas? No one has heard of him. His entire entry is: “When I send Artemas to you in Crete…” (Titus 3:12a) And why attention on the church in Crete? No mention of it in the early histories. 
 
That’s the point. The bold and faithful work of the kingdom went on in places and people that we have never heard of. Their witness established the church in places beyond Ephesus, out of sight of Philippi, and across mountains from Derbe. 
 
Artemas and the church in Crete today are alive and numerous.  The churches of St. Artemas do not look for recognition. They may not excel in optics—those technical devises that put some churches on the map--nor do they have a knack at soundbites. But they do the things that God wants done. In the presence of the wrath of God they show the path to his promise.
 
What provokes God’s wrath? The infidelity of his people, serving two masters or more, reinterpreting God’s truth, exploiting the powerless, leaving the hungry hungry and the captive abandoned, immorality that becomes normal, the loss of “the key to wisdom,” the pomp without the power, the rich who keep their wealth, the powerful who keep their power---to mention a few. 
 
That’s the point of highlighting Artemas and the church in Crete today. They are well known before the Lord. Their agenda comes from the life and ministry of Jesus Christ, the Head of the Church. Here are four focal points they follow.
 
Sorrowing. The  sorrow and mourning of the widow of Nain touched Christ’s heart deeply. At the grave of his friend Lazarus, he wept. Yes, he enjoyed a wedding feast and many dinners, but he was a “Man of Sorrows.”
 
Sorrow is near at hand today. The pandemic has sown many tears, much anxiety, and endless fear. For many, they see no silver lining. No good emerges, no light or balm exists. Just sorrow. The church of St. Artemas sits alongside the saddened, offers no platitudes, honors the grief, listens to the stories endlessly repeated. The forlorn need that—a place to weep, a friend to just stay by them and hold hands, just as Christ did and would do.
 
Acceptance. How could the woman at the well—the one with a live-in and several previous husbands--converse with Jesus except that she sensed his acceptance? How could the Rich Young Ruler continue his challenges to Jesus unless he heard the savior’s love with his answers? 
 
The art of listening and accepting is scarce. Code words have taken over the direction of the exchange. After all, we must make sure the other knows our disagreement. And when that is done, conversation has ended. We have stumbles over the numerous hurdles that prevent civil discourse.
 
Acceptance lets the other person speak with no objection countered, no correction made. Acceptance means that we give the other person respect. They don’t need to know if we agree or not; what they need is our understanding and esteem, our honoring their views.  What is the cost of that? Pride. What are the values of that? Humility and love.
 
Prostitutes.  Yes, prostitutes. And don’t let’s forget lepers. Two nights before he was crucified, Jesus chose to dine at the home of a leper and was visited by a prostitute. Those are the people whom he said would be at the front of the line going into heaven. They found an oasis of love and forgiveness in a world that rejected them. 
 
The Church of St. Artemas has people who have not sequestered themselves in a world that is merely a mirror of themselves. Their friends are men on corners with signs for help, women with scars of abortions or addictions, children who have dropped out, people just out of jail, hustlers who can scam with skill.
 
What they find is friendship. And with friendship comes their disclosures long hid and deeply buried. Instead of being greeted with shock and embarrassment, the surprise of unconditional love brings them a humble joy and profound gratitude.  Gradually they find a faith, a gratitude, a dependence, and a love eager to show the same mercy with their companions.
 
Foot washing. What could be more counter-cultural? What are the values so mightily pursued today? Houses on display, titles, toys, and an air that verifies all. Nothing resembling an upward glance from a washbowl at a person whose feet are being washed. But Jesus told his disciples the pathway to greatness… Be a servant. 
 
Servanthood is one of the most liberating roles we can take. It needs no room for pretense, forfeits any reward and adulation, puts aside precious time and money, and simply and sincerely asks, “How may I help you?” Servants have shoved to the side those things the culture values. Foot washers are free, happy, and pleased to see others clean. Foot washers need no more agenda than simply to tell God that they are available. Those whom God brings forward find a cleansing in depths never anticipated. 
 
Back to Artemas and the church in Crete. Forward to the churches of St. Artemas today. In a world where “everyone is doing what seems right in our own eyes,” God sees a people who love him and who open the path to his promise of blessing. 

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