This Sin

Scripture: Acts 7

59 As they stoned him, Stephen prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” 60 He fell to his knees, shouting, “Lord, don’t charge them with this sin!” And with that, he died. (Acts 7:59-60 NLT)

What a waste! What a tragedy! Stephen was such a good guy! Because he was full of faith and the Holy Spirit (Acts 6:5), he was chosen as one of the original seven administrator-overseers for the church. Because he was full of God’s grace and power (Acts 6:8), he performed amazing signs and miracles among the people. Because of the jealousy of rigid, small-minded religious people, he was murdered by a religious mob.

And then because he was such a Christ-like man, he asked Jesus to receive his spirit in death, just as Jesus had asked his Father to receive his spirit in death. And just as Jesus prayed that his murderers not be charged with their crime, Stephen died with a prayer on his lips that the stone-throwing mob not be held guilty of the sin they were committing as they killed him.

Rambo would have probably pulled the pin on his one remaining grenade and thrown it into the mob and they would have died with him. Sort of Samson-like, you know!

Reading and meditating my way through Acts this time, I’m seeing something that I’ve missed about the believers in those early days. I see it in Peter, as he preached at Pentecost and in the Temple and before the Jewish council. He honestly and courageously confronted their sin, but he declared the forgiveness and refreshing they could receive through repentance! He did not want them to be guilty, to be judged, and to be punished for their sin. Peter was different after experiencing redemption and after being filled with the Holy Spirit. His heart was like Jesus’ heart! Just as Stephen’s heart was like Jesus’ heart!

I’ve been a Christ-follower a long time. I’m serious about my faith. But these stories remind me how far I have to go and how utterly dependent I am on God’s Amazing Grace and the fullness of God’s Holy Spirit.

Prayer:

Father, Please forgive me for the pettiness that makes me keep track, and makes me want you to keep track of all the little things people do. Will you help me get to the place where instead of being angry or hurt or offended and then eventually (grudgingly?) forgiving, I can say, “Father, don’t bother to put this one on the books. They don’t realize what they’re doing. Let’s let it go.” Could I get there? For Jesus’ sake!