Acts 3:1-10
1 One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o'clock in the afternoon. 2 And a man lame from birth was being carried in. People would lay him daily at the gate of the temple called the Beautiful Gate so that he could ask for alms from those entering the temple. 3 When he saw Peter and John about to go into the temple, he asked them for alms. 4 Peter looked intently at him, as did John, and said, "Look at us." 5 And he fixed his attention on them, expecting to receive something from them. 6 But Peter said, "I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk." 7 And he took him by the right hand and raised him up; and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong. 8 Jumping up, he stood and began to walk, and he entered the temple with them, walking and leaping and praising God. 9 All the people saw him walking and praising God, 10 and they recognized him as the one who used to sit and ask for alms at the Beautiful Gate of the temple; and they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened to him.

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One way that I try to understand scripture is by picturing the story as it plays out. How the people would be moving through the space can tell a lot of story too.

What emotion or implications all of those details may have…

Where and when and how and with whom this thing takes place…

These assembled pieces tell the story with a richness between the lines that words only point to.

So I’m trying to picture this Beautiful Gate where prayers and pleas are brought close to one another by a narrowing space, this threshold where the sacred and the mundane meet and mingle together.

Architectural and archaeological scholars certainly have sketches of what it may have looked like, but for today I’m less interested in the exactness of the picture as much as I am the idea of it. We can easily imagine a thick stone structure that emits both foreboding strength and intimate carvings carefully crafted for beauty’s sake, part fortress and part sculpture, part function and part form and shape and the way those things make us feel.

In my mind’s eye, I picture the India Gate in New Delhi. Recent pictures reveal this triumphal arch with new clarity and brightness as the air clears from traffic that cannot be. Its stark sandstone face is a simple but also ornate monument… built in the space of peace, but also a testament to thousands who died in war.

Where else do we see beauty in this multifaceted way?

As I think back on just this week…

I picture Emily’s smile as she receives the first hard copies of her first book, beaming and delighting in the reality of a dream, taking in its soft pages and the labor of love and courage that it took to create them.

I picture Shannon’s delicate and vibrant stitching on a small patch of quilt – a process that seems incredibly inefficient which generally drives me bonkers but also echoes of deep care.

I went for a bike ride this weekend and passed by a building I’d never seen before on the East side – this simple but striking art deco façade that looks like it may have once been a gleaming garage, but is all whitewashed and boarded up now. I don’t picture it as a diamond in the rough, but beautiful just as it is - this surprising mix as it both resists and relinquishes to time. I’m that person has a macabre sense of beauty anyway with my little collection of taxidermy that I hope comes across as more cabinet of curiosities than bone collector.

Meditating on this juxtaposed beauty I also picture home-sewn protective masks that hide everything of a face except deep brown eyes – a testament to how bizarre these days certainly are, but also made from fabric that is a witness to the beauty of vibrant Mexican embroidery or colorful kente cloth, or the resurrection life of a scrapped pair of pajama pants.

I hear beauty in the holy laments of things we had hoped would be by now, but are not realized – stunning in their heartfelt humanity. This beauty streaks down tired faces as hot tears fall for reasons too big to speak and reasons we don’t understand. It resounds even amidst the heavy silences and the chaotic clamor of these days.

Design by Cloth & Cord: https://www.clothandcord.com/

So I wonder…where have you seen and experienced beauty recently? …..

This resurrection life reframes our blotches and our breakdowns - not as something outside of redemption, but within it. To see and be seen through this lens of resurrection is wondrous and beautiful - not only in ways that are elaborate but also ordinary. Jesus was always doing this – seeing those unnoticed by others, drawing near to those considered too flawed or foreign to approach, lifting their faces so they can see eye to eye, calling them by name out of what others only saw as a formless void. Now the disciples…without the stability of their rabbi’s voice, but also filled and sent with a mysterious and sacred Spirit... resemble and reflect this vision, this re-imagining of beauty.

A person who’s movement has always incorporated others, but also results in their being metaphorically and physically “outside,” a status which the ancient text calls “lame”…lays near the beautiful gate to incite the care of the faithful. Day in and out, for what must seem like always, they have taken on the traditional position and posture of one who seeks mercy. As Peter and John pass by, this person asks for alms, for traditional generosity, the same as they would have asked many others that day and in days past. The disciples look intently at this fellow human being.

They SEE this one and do not continue on without taking full notice and engaging one another. As was traditional for temple beggars, his head must have been cast downward, eyes turned away for the disciples to specifically say “look at us!” With each other fully in view, this recognition of shared humanity fills the air with expectation.

Peter and John can not be what they are not, and yet they still have something of value to offer. They are honest about what gifts they do and don’t have, and they express that even those things they hold are bigger than their own possession could contain. What they have is not only for them but for the whole world. These things they have and are, are most beautifully realized in their sharing. And God uses just that to bring about resurrective transformation. This resurrection animates and mobilizes beyond motion for the sake of motion, but explodes into leaping and exuberant praise. Beyond even that, it echoes into all those around who see and hear and are also moved in wonder and amazement – the same as the women standing before an empty tomb, tell-tale signs of God’s handiwork.

What we have…what we are…in the name and spirit of that carpenter –Rabbi called Jesus who is the Christ and came from that backwoods town of Nazareth…we give…we offer one another as resurrection.

Always easier said than realized. With so much celebration of the extraordinary, what I have often feels increasingly ordinary and sometimes even less than that. And when I compare it to others, it can feel less than or at least than certainly less than the fierce power of my anxiety or anger or what I feel are my less-than-beautiful pieces. Sitting in the shadow of something publicly proclaimed as beautiful sucks when we feel anything but. It’s hard to be seen let alone share when we’re not exactly having a highlight reel moment.

But then here is impetuous-always-getting-ahead-of-himself-and-missing-the-point-rock-of-the-church Peter and beloved-blue-collar-but-gonna-end-up-living-in-a-cave John reminding me that God doesn’t need us to be rich or perfect to be a part of holy work, but just who we are. And this work is beautiful and holy and just as resurrective even when healing in body or heart doesn’t happen instantaneously or look exactly like this scene from Acts, when it doesn’t look or feel miraculous. Resurrection is still at work even in recurrence, even in relapse, and even certainly in death.

So again I wonder…what is it that God has blessed you to give?

Perhaps it’s the gift of teaching that expands our thinking? Art to inspire? Writing that creates meaning and wonder? A car to drive that mobilizes resources? A caring soul that is well-suited to compassionate phone calls and kind notes? Passion to call up politicians and advocate? Knowledge for health and healing? Green and growing blossoms that remind us of the grounding rhythms of life? Crafting that serves no purpose other than joy? Party-planning that finds creative ways to celebrate? Maybe you ARE one with financial resources to share? Maybe the gift you have you give is staying home even when you’re so over it? Perhaps what you have to share is a simple non-fantastical but sacred story of grace and messy beauty and hope?

Like this sacred story of healing, our very being poured out preaches the resurrection. It’s expansive beauty leans into and enacts the Gospel that everyone has a place at God’s never-ending table. It is proclaimed not only to those that seem directly involved but also among those who witness with wonder and amazement nearby.

Each glimpse of resurrection points back to the source – a scarred and beautiful savior. Each one is an echo of Christ’s own love. It ripples through us into the world. And maybe you’re not sure if you have the capacity to be a ripple right now, but they wash over us anyway and continue on far beyond us.

At the center is the beauty of a savior whose image we are created to reflect. A savior defamed and defiled in the eyes of the world, but still precious and powerful in the scope of eternity. A savior that reimages salvation not as an escape but as a return – to something that has always been true of us but doesn’t quite fit in the frames we’ve held. A savior who is resurrected to delicious wholeness, even while there is still a hole in his side. In the name of Jesus, the beautifully-tattered savior of ordinary people and places, lift up your eyes and take note of your body, assured that you are both incredibly beautiful and beloved just as you are, and that who you are and the simple gifts God has given you…are a blessing worthy to be shared. Amen.

A musical mediation for this week:
Our friend Aaron Strumpel sings Beautiful Savior

In The Image of a Beautifully-Tattered Savior