Below, for your consideration and reflection, is the sermon from Bethel's August 29, 2004 Sunday Morning worship service.

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I’ve been trying to imagine what it might have been like to have been this person named Eutychus. All that we know about him is right here in these 6 verses from Acts, a young man, maybe a teenager, to use our contemporary equivalent, who apparently was a resident of Troas in northeastern Asia Minor. Troas was one of the stops on the Apostle Paul’s third missionary journey as he made his way back to Jerusalem, sharing the Gospel with incipient churches along the way. We learn earlier in the 20^th chapter of Acts that Paul and his several traveling companions had been in Troas for seven days; and it is there, around midnight, on the third floor, presumably of a believer’s home, that we meet Eutychus. It is the last day of Paul’s stay in Troas, the last day which is actually the first day of the new week, or what came to be called the Lord’s Day in the early church.

It is late at night, it is very late at night, when Eutychus’ name is mentioned for the one and only time in scripture. I suspect that upper room where these early Christians gathered was very crowded, the air stuffy and warm from the torches that were burning and lighting the house; and wouldn’t a young person want to be where some fresh air was entering the room? And so, Eutychus perched himself within the great depth of a window opening, not an uncommon place for people to sit or stand in those days. And he listened to Paul preach and I think also he listened to the discussions and conversations that took place on this, the last night of the missionary Apostle’s stay in Troas. Eutychus was there with the other believers as the bread was broken, as they renewed the memory of Jesus’ last meal with his disciples. I imagine they fellowshipped, shared testimonies, asked questions about what they should be doing, listened to Paul’s instructions, maybe read letters from other churches that these visitors had carried with them, talked about struggles, laughed, sang hymns, prayed.

And in the midst of all that the church was doing on that night long ago, young Eutychus, around midnight, fell asleep. He tumbled out of his third story window and was taken up by his friends for dead. And in all of the alarm and confusion of those moments, Paul runs downstairs, then outside, there to fall upon the body of Eutychus, pronouncing him not dead but rather alive.

What to make of this story about a young man who almost tragically lost his life during a prolonged church service? What to make of this gathering of believers in a home in Troas, a relatively small gathering, I imagine, because even in a home with three floors, it is hard to envision a gathering space anywhere near the size that we might imagine when we today hear the word “church”? What to make of Paul and his traveling companions, their seven day stay in Troas, their departure at the end of the first day of the week, Paul’s speaking off and on through the night, and even until daylight? And could we imagine that perhaps we not only share a spiritual kinship with St. Paul and the other leaders among the first Christians, but that perhaps, just perhaps, we are also the kin of Eutychus?

I’d like to share with you my thoughts about three themes that emerge out of this little story about Eutychus and St. Paul’s visit to the church in Troas. The first theme revolves around time, the second around place, and the third around healing.

First day of the week. About midnight. Until daylight. Three references in these 6 verses to the passage of ordinary time, calendar time as we know it. But also, words that mark and highlight that incredible reordering and revaluing of time that was happening in Troas as the Jesus movement swept across Asia Minor.

There is a profound sense of urgency here and throughout the pages of the book of Acts. Whatever it takes, these Christians wanted to listen and to interact with Paul and his companions while they are here, even if it meant staying up all night long. And even when Eutychus falls to the ground, there seems to be hardly more than a pause before they go back into the house to continue their worship and fellowship, breaking bread and conversation. There is an unmistakable urgency for the Church and its mission in Acts. From day one in an upper room in Jerusalem as believers received the pentecostal outpouring of the Holy Spirit, until this night in Troas, and even at the end of Acts as Paul awaits execution in Rome, clearly something is happening that has “turned the world upside down.”

The church in Troas gathered on the first day of the week. Not the seventh day of the week, the Jewish Sabbath, but the first day, the day of Easter, the day of resurrection. The usual approach to time had been dramatically and decisively interrupted and transformed in the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Gathering on the first day of the week signaled the inbreaking of God’s renewing and transformative purposes for the world..

And maybe, for us, too, our habits and patterns of using time are one way to test allegiances and loyalties. How much of a sense of urgency do we associate with these times and the expression of our faith?

We read magazine and newspaper articles all the time that tell us how stressed the typical American is, how the average time spent working per week has been steadily rising over the past several decades, how all the experts are telling parents that you must spend more quality time with your children. I have read that parents in some communities drive their children to school simply so they can manage to have a little time together during a day so busy, so scheduled, so overbooked that they have no other quality time together. And on and on it could go, probably for many of us here. If the events of September 11 and the ongoing terror that we face have taught us anything, as individuals, as a nation, as citizens of the world, should it not be lessons about the fragility of life, the need to turn and return to the God of love and justice, to discover new ways to treasure the time we have.

What would it be like to decide, that for one day out of the week, we will not bow to the idols of wealth and commerce and work, of getting and spending; that the rhythm we choose for the first day will remind us of the One to whom we ultimately belong, to be reminded that whatever urgent necessities tug upon our lives, none is nearly so urgent as the call from Jesus: “Come, follow me.” Whether in a house in Troas or a sanctuary in Kingston, this is our weekly Easter, to come together and to remind ourselves that we take part in a sacred activity by which God is shaping and giving birth to a new creation.

And Eutychus was there, right in the midst of this new ordering of time. Yes, he fell asleep; maybe others did too, but just didn’t happen to fall out of a window; so we don’t read about them. And really, we don’t know why he fell asleep, do we? Weariness from labor or family obligations during the day, perhaps? Perhaps these all night gatherings have been occurring every night of Paul’s weeklong stay in Troas, and that could make it difficult for anyone to stay awake? Or maybe, I can hardly bring myself to suggest this and the light it casts on me, the preacher, but maybe the sermon was just too long or too boring?

I don’t know. But I do know that we are all Eutychus’ kin. Called to find ways to synchronize our time with God’s time, to show our loyalty by what we do, especially on the first day of the week, yet in the midst of those commitments also to care for ourselves so that we can be fully awake, fully alive to hear and to respond to God’s word as the Spirit breaks into our lives.

Second thought I would share with you concerns place. The uses of time identified followers of Jesus from others. Even also did the space of their meetings and gatherings, which was primarily in homes, places where they broke bread surrounded by the familiar, the everyday, the ordinary.

Missionaries like Paul often debated with public officials in the marketplace or had discussions with Jewish leaders in the synagogues, yet when it came to the experience of unity and oneness with fellow believers, of being nurtured in the bonds of Christ’s love, it was homes, and particularly the relatively large, upper rooms of ancient homes where the formation of spiritual disciplines and Christ-like characters occurred. And that is where I imagine Eutychus and so many other virtually anonymous Christians took their first steps of faith, received encouragement, grew in grace -- where they broke the bread, sat at table, re-experienced the Lord’s final meal with his disciples.

This gathering space in Troas, the scriptures tell us, was one where many torches or lamps were burning. Certainly, giving light to those assembled there, but also, significantly, I think, light that signaled to outsiders that these Christians were not some clandestine, secretive group, but rather they wanted and welcomed visibility in that wider community. While Paul and his traveling companions would come and go, it was Eutychus and his friends and family who remained behind, in that town, talking with, working with, interacting with others; they were the ones who day in and day out, would be asked to give witness to the hope that was within them.

If the urgency of time is one theme running through the Book of Acts, then there is also an urgency for finding places and spaces where believers can come together in small groups to trust one another, to share food and fellowship, to experience the renewing, creative presence of the Holy Spirit.

And where are those places and spaces for us? Those small rooms, those tables where we, like the Christians of Troas, can gather face to face? Where we can confess our weariness, talk about hopes and fears, search out paths of honesty and vulnerability in the safety of fellowship with one another? And how can those places be made known publicly so that outsiders will feel invited to come in?

Robert Wuthnow, a sociolgist of religion at Princeton, wrote a book six years ago entitled Sharing the Journey: Support Groups and America’s New Quest for Community. He suggests that Bible studies, prayer fellowships, self-help groups, twelve-step gatherings, therapy sessions, recovery groups, etc. have become increasingly important sources of emotional support and places where millions of Americans are seeking spirituality (p.ix). Four out of every ten Americans, according to his estimates, belong to a small group that meets regularly and provides caring and support for its members. (p.4). It is a phenomena, he argues, that is dramatically altering the face of religion in today’s America.

The Church has often led the way in the formation of small groups. For example, for us here we have Sunday school classes, choirs, youth and older adult gatherings that are just a few examples of the kinds of groups Wuthnow is talking about. I would agree with him that most people join these groups -- whether it is a church-sponsored gathering or not – they join because they want to deepen their faith in some way – they want a safe place to talk, a place to be held accountable, a place to feel a sense of community, a place to be challenged in some way, a place to grow emotionally and spiritually.

Where are those places for us? Where are the places where a tired Eutychus who walks among us, either in our church or in the larger community, can come and share his weariness or be exhorted to take time for himself, or to take time to practice the spiritual disciplines of hearing and receiving the voice of God’s spirit in fresh and challenging ways?

At some level, aren’t we all kin of Eutychus, and don’t we all need safe places to go where we can receive encouragement to stay awake?

And the final theme I want to share with you involves healing. Eutychus’ restoration to life. His fall at the midnight hour caused quite a stir and a great deal of activity. And after the Apostle came down, embraced him and pronounced him yet alive, they all, including Eutychus, went back upstairs and resumed their time together as the church until Paul’s departure at daybreak And after Paul left, the scriptures say, “the people took the young man home alive and were greatly comforted.”

It is not hard for me to imagine that healing continued as his friends accompanied him home, as they all talked about the many ways this experience served as a source of support and encouragement to their faith. Sometimes, it takes a real commitment to discernment, to see the full face of God’s restoring presence beyond the immediacy of one particular incident such as this fall from a window. His friends stayed with Eutychus and they comforted one another because of him.

Time and place come together in an ongoing experience of healing. I suspect that the main reason this story about Eutychus got recorded in scripture is because in the midst of the apparent tragedy of his death, there was yet life. What seemed impossible, is possible with God. It was, of course, a vivid reminder to the Christians in Troas of the story of Christ, of the cross, of the resurrection. And so it should be, without a doubt, for us as well. Healing comes in many shapes and forms, not always as quickly as we might hope and not always even the answer that we prayed for, but the mysterious, healing purposes of God are always in the midst of whatever tragedy or disturbance or interruption or darkness we or the church or even the nation might experience.

One of the essays in a book entitled Practicing our Faith: A way of Life for a Searching People, describes contemporary healing services in various mainline Protestant churches. The author writes that when “we embody God’s healing presence to others through touch, concern, or liturgy, we take part in God’s activity of healing the world” (157). A participant in a healing ministry at a church in Connecticut recalls her involvement in this fashion: “At the beginning none of us wanted to admit that God was performing the healings which occurred in our prayer and study sessions. As sophisticated people, we preferred more secular explanations: psychosomatic mending, relaxation from stress, that sort of thing. . . [but then] we began to think in terms of obedience to our baptismal vows, and some of us could not escape the conviction that we were being called to a task that has always been central to the church’s ministry, even when [the ministry of healing] goes unnoticed. We needed to learn to get ourselves and our concern for results out of the way and just let God act through us. . . .” (154)

For all of the urgency attached to this night-time gathering in a house in Troas, Paul and that community there acted spontaneously and decisively to be present with Eutychus after he fell. Paul was a vehicle of God’s healing, but so were others who surrounded this erstwhile worshiper in the aftermath of his falling asleep and his fall from a window.

We are the kin of Eutychus; we all bear wounds within us.

Often, the hour grows late as our lives go on, and its not always easy to receive healing, to stay awake, to listen, to participate, to show our commitment to those holy times and sacred places where the risen Christ meets us face to face. But that is who we are and what we are called to be about as the church.

Yes, for better or for worse, we are all the kin of Eutychus. But thanks be to God, that there is always plenty of room in the church for Eutychus, his kin, for all of us!\

To God alone be the power and the dominion, now and forever. Amen!

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I believe that the Gospel summons us to renew our commitment to embrace the life of the risen one in the midst of whatever death-like darkness may surround us. The gospel summons us to take moments to reflect, to recommit, to renew, and perhaps the most important first step, to confess: to acknowledge our sins in the presence of God and before one another.

And so, I would invite you now, in moments of silence and openness to the Spirit, to experience the freedom to bring to God the wounds, and brokenness and sinfulness of your life, and to experience the patience to wait upon the healing mercy of Christ. And then, after a time of silence, let us come together in one voice of prayer. Let us now bow our heads.

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Prayers of the People

God of grace and God of glory: we thank you today for all those who, in their time, have sought to serve you faithfully and obediently. On this Reformation Sunday, we are especially grateful that this part of your church is always Reformed, always Reforming, and so we thank you for the men and women of faith who have dared to speak and live your truth, to challenge the status quo, to call your people to deeper commitment, to search the scriptures for a fresh word of hope. We thank you that we can depend upon grace alone, faith alone, scripture alone as we seek to discern your perfect ways of salvation in your Word made flesh. Help us now to be your church alive to all the possibilities of service and witness as we continue that legacy begun so long ago by Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox and other Reformers who have served as vessels of your Spirit.
Hear our prayers, O God of healing, for all who suffer in mind, body or spirit. We ask for grace for Janine Woody, Betty Ulrich, Tora Phillips, Joan Pemberton’s sister,

Bring a sense of your peace and comfort to all who struggle after a sense of your purpose in their lives. Give strength to families and friends who lend their support. Give your mercy to all health care workers who seek to be your agents of comfort and healing.

God of all the nations: In these continuing days of painful memories in our own land, in these days of renewed terror and the threat of terror, give to all of the people of your world grace to endure the unknown, strength to face new challenges, compassion to aid the hurting, a vision for a better tomorrow. Even as we pray for the safety of those who seek to serve justice, we pray for the safety of the innocent: the refugees, the homeless, the widows and the children of Afganistan and of all other lands torn apart by fighting and bloodshed and warfare. Forgive us when we make assumptions about a whole people based on the actions of just a few. Enable us all to search our minds for the darkness of our own prejudice and hatred and pride, and to thereby invite your light to reform and change us so that we might truly be and become messengers of your love and peace to neighbors nearby and far away.

Do not let us grow weary in well-doing, O God. Help us to seek the face of Christ in others around us. For we pray in your son’s name, who has taught us to pray, saying

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Prayers of the people

Glorious God: We rejoice in the celebration of hope that is ours this day, as your people. For gifts of family and friendship, for this church, for voices to sing and music to play, for the laughter of children and the smiles of old age, we give you thanks, O God. May the joy we experience empower us to share the good news, in word and in deed, to hear your call to be peacemakers in our families and communities and throughout the world, and to commit ourselves anew to prayer and to offering you the stewardship of our lives and resources.

We ask, O God, that the joy of knowing your comfort and strength would be very real to all those in our church community who carry burdens difficult to bear alone. For the sick, the homebound, those recovering from illness, any who face medical procedures, the confused, those who feel lonely or afraid, we ask that by your spirit, O God, that you would assure them that they are in your hands, and underneath them are your everlasting arms.

We pray, Lord, for those both in and beyond our fellowship here who face temptation or danger, also those who long to enter the safe circle of friendship and trust or who struggle with addictions or abusive or harmful behavior. Be present with them in their struggles. Continue to show us ways to visit prisoners and their families, to clothe the naked, to feed the hungry, to shelter the homeless, to give cups of cold water in your name. And give us hearts to find ways to reach out and welcome all the children of this community into the warmth of your embrace.

We thank you for all those who have gone forth to serve you in places nearby and far away, sharing your gospel of reconciliation and hope. We are grateful for those who come to us from other lands as partners in the Gospel, and for the way they remind us of the great diversity and unity we share within the one body of Christ. Bring peace to our world and heal the ancient wounds that divide us and set us at enmity with one another. Quieten the anxiety of those who live in troubled cities, and draw close to all those who are persecuted because of their faith. Be a source of light, O God, to all those who govern, especially in our own nation as we struggle to find ways to speak the truth, and to value biblical norms of moral and ethical behavior. Empower us with your spirit as we seek to love kindness, do justice and walk humbly with you. Give safety to all

And in the days to come, dear Lord, keep us awake and alive to your presence. Give us oil for our lamps so that our light can burn brightly in this place and throughout this world, even we wait upon you and the new creation you are bringing forth through the power of your Spirit. This we pray in the name of Jesus, who has taught us to pray, saying

[Lord's Prayer]

Even as we have prayed for ourselves and for our world, lifting these prayers as a sweet, fragrant offering to God, so also are we invited to count the cost of what it means to be stewards of an abundance of resources, time and talents and gifts. The offering is much more than a moment to give our money. It is also a time to prayerfully recommit ourselves to what it means to be disciples of Christ, servants of God and neighbors to those in need. Let us, therefore, bring all that we are and all that we have before the throne of grace, remembering, in the words of the Apostle Paul: “Each of you must give as you have made up your own mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver!”