Holding the Coats:

The book of Acts invites us into the unfolding story of the new church, rich with accounts of those closely connected to the Easter story. Stephen is among the seven disciples who came on board after Easter. Chosen because of his administrative ability and trustworthiness, his job was to care for the widows.  His ministry was of service, not preaching, yet his preaching got him into trouble.  Those in charge didn’t like it when he accused them of ignoring the prophetic voice of God, leading to the birth of the messiah and rejected the idea that they were personally responsible for the death of Jesus. So, they drove Stephen to the edge of town, and stoned him to death. It is a gruesome tale. An interesting detail struck my heart as I read it recently. A young man named Saul, stood at the edge of the crowd, and they laid their coats at his feet.

Have you ever been the one holding the coats? Maybe you didn’t actually throw the stones, but you were guilty by association, or you didn’t try to keep the wrong from happening.

More than once, I have heard people say that “we were not responsible” for the pain caused by residential schools since our denomination had none in our province. Yet, instead of throwing the stones, we stood at the side and held the coats, supporting the faulty thinking that lead to such disaster. It is easy to dismiss responsibility from that perspective.

Saul, who becomes Paul after his transformative experience on the road to Damascus, is known for his persecution of Christians. After his conversion, Paul himself becomes willing to die for the cause of the Christ. Transformation of the heart is often a slow process, one that takes a lifetime, or several generations. Usually it means the “privileged” have to give something up.  It could be power, or wealth, or land or what they think are rights. It also means they need to begin the hard work of seeing things in a new way.  I wonder if that process began for Paul as he reflected on his “participation” in events such as Stephen’s death.

Martin Luther King Jr. told his children that a life without something you are willing to die for is not worth living.  Stephen understood this, and eventually so did Paul, but along the way they had to come to terms with the real cost to them in life as well as death. Living with a cause you would die for is a little different than standing by while someone else throws the stones. It means taking a stand when you know you should, even if it will make you unpopular. It means including those you’ve so easily excluded. It means not so much holding coats, but offering your coat.

This kind of transformation is at the heart of what remains the Gospel, translated as faith for today. The issues keep changing but the need for transformation remains. That inclusive love of Christ continues to call to us as our hearts are transformed.