I imagine that most of you don’t think of yourselves as artists. Some of you are good photographers, fine cooks, capable writers, skilled wood workers, and devoted musicians. The rest of us make no claim to being very good at anything. If you are good at something, I apologize and mean no disrespect. But for the rest of us, it may be that in our humbleness we don’t think that we can do anything special. Or in an honest evaluation of ourselves, we don’t think we have a chance to do something important because we have burned too many bridges behind us and gone down too many rabbit trails to qualify as useful to God. Let me assure us that God’s grace is far bigger than all our misspent youth and disappointing mid-life. God may yet have a skill, a talent, a calling for us. We are unlikely artisans whom God may yet call.
Some of the greatest Christian art has been produced by really rotten Christians. Here are a few examples of how God uses unlikely artisans to advance the gospel.
Check out “The Calling of St. Matthew” by Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio. The apostle is in a dark and dirty Roman tavern, surrounded by lowlifes. That’s because Caravaggio spent plenty of time in these pubs himself, drinking and brawling. In 1606, this hot-tempered artist killed a Roman thug in a fight following a tennis match.
Here’s Rembrandt’s 1633 etching “The Good Samaritan” It’s so down to earth that it has a dog relieving itself in the foreground. Members of the Dutch Reformed Church loved Rembrandt’s realistic artwork but didn’t appreciate his relationships with women. He painted his wife, Saskia, as a prostitute in a tavern, sitting in the lap of one of Jesus’ well-known characters, the prodigal son. After Saskia died, he became lovers with his housekeeper and then left her for another servant, causing his housekeeper to take him to court. Messy, messy, messy. Rembrandt lost the support of church members because of his behavior and died in poverty in 1669 — but not before he painted “Return of the Prodigal Son.” Like the sinful son in the parable, Rembrandt knew he needed forgiveness.
Salvador Dali created “The Sacrament of the Last Supper.” Although born to devout
Catholic parents in Spain, he was an atheist who indulged every outlandish whim, including the throwing of orgies that he called “erotic masses.” Dali returned to his Catholic roots after moving to the United States, but some people questioned his sincerity. Dali may have been motivated more by money than by spirituality, bragging that postcards of his Last Supper sold more copies than all of the works of Leonardo da Vinci and Raphael combined.
Great Christian art was produced by not-so-great Christian artists — if indeed “Christian” at all.
God has been dealing with unlikely artisans for a long time. Abram wasn’t all that honest, passing his wife Sarai off to Pharaoh as his sister in order to save his skin. Jacob stole Esau’s birthright and blessing and out-tricked his father-in-law Laban through selective sheep breeding. Moses killed an Egyptian foreman and then went into hiding. Jonah was a poor sport, Jeremiah a complainer, and Matthew a hated tax-collector. By our standards, God was a lousy human resources manager, choosing the most unlikely artisans to do important work.
The Pharisee named Saul certainly qualifies as an unlikely candidate. He is clearly no saint, “spewing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples” as he went to Damascus to round up believers. But Christ called him and used him to do great things. Jesus says, “[H]e is the agent I have chosen to carry my name before Gentiles, kings, and Israelites.” Saul is “a personal representative” (Eugene Peterson’s rendering) and Jesus employs him for a defined embassy. Just as Jesus used Caravaggio, Rembrandt, and Dali. Just as he uses us. (Not that the apostle Paul was a Caravaggio, Rembrandt or Dali — or one of us for that matter.)
There are two unlikely artisans in today’s reading from Acts. First there is Saul, soon to be re-purposed from persecutor to proponent of the “Way” of Christ and renamed Paul. He knew all the arguments against Christ, so with the proverbial flip of a switch he knew all the arguments for Christ. The evangelical history in Acts and the bounty of Paul’s letters bear that out.
The second unlikely artisan in the story is Ananias. After Saul’s companions took him to Damascus where he spent three days unable to see, the Lord spoke to a Christian named Ananias, instructing him to go to Saul and lay hands on him so he might regain his sight. But Ananias was understandably unenthusiastic about this assignment. We can understand that. If we knew Saul’s reputation as Ananias and others did, we wouldn’t want to welcome him into the fellowship of believers, let alone go anywhere near him. Ananias responded to Jesus’s word, saying, “Lord, I have heard many reports about this man. People say he has done horrible things to your holy people in Jerusalem. He’s here with authority from the chief priests to arrest everyone who calls on your name.”
Ananias knew that Saul was bent on wiping out the early church. Saul couldn’t possibly be of any use to Jesus or the church. He couldn’t possibly create a thing of beauty for the glory of God in Christ. But just as Jesus saw potential in Saul and called him to be an apostle, so Jesus also saw potential in Ananias to be an unlikely artisan to release Saul from his blindness and introduce him to the reality of the risen Christ.
Ananias wasn’t being asked to give up his lifelong career as Jesus had asked Peter, Andrew, James, and John to give up fishing. Jesus simply said to Ananias, “I have one thing I need you to do for me. Go to Judas’ house on Straight Street and ask for a man from Tarsus named Saul. He is praying. In a vision he has seen a man named Ananias enter and put his hands on him to restore his sight.” When Ananias went as directed, he laid his hands on Saul. The apostle-to-be regained his sight and was filled with the Holy Spirit. Within days, Saul was preaching in the synagogues proclaiming that Jesus is the Son of God. He went on to become the apostle Paul — the one who spread the gospel throughout the Mediterranean region.
Paul is a saintly sinner, an unlikely artisan, a man who admitted to the Corinthians, “I’m the least important of the apostles. I don’t deserve to be called an apostle, because I harassed God’s church. I am what I am by God’s grace, and God’s grace hasn’t been for nothing. In fact, I have worked harder than all the others—that is, it wasn’t me but the grace of God that is with me.” (1 Corinthians 15:9-10).
One of the most amazing things about God’s grace is that it works through sinful human beings like Paul and through ordinary people – unlikely artisans – like Ananias, like us. We are both saints and sinners at the same time. Martin Luther described us as simul justus et peccator — simultaneously righteous and sinful. This means we don’t have to achieve some kind of moral perfection before the Lord begins to work through us. Instead, God’s grace is doing great things while we are still struggling with sin. And as ordinary individuals we are unlikely artisans, called to special service at unexpected times and often in ordinary circumstances.
Jesus isn’t asking us to give up our career as retirees to do some monumental work like Paul did. We don’t have to be perfect before God will use us. Yes, it’s important for us to repent of our sins and strive to live a Christlike life, but God will work the divine purposes out — regardless of how righteous we are. After all, God is in charge, not weak human beings.
It’s okay to be an unlikely artisan.
Michele Hershberger, a Mennonite in Oregon, discovered this in a personal way when she was praying one day and heard God say, “Go buy Vonda some groceries.” Now Vonda was a difficult person — a woman who owed Michele $500 and who always had a chip on her shoulder. Michele came up with a thousand reasons not to respond to God’s call, but in the end she bought two bags of groceries and left them anonymously on Vonda’s porch.
Michele forgot about Vonda, except to bemoan her lost money. But then, six months later, God nudged her to visit Vonda. Michele drove to Vonda’s home, went inside and then — for the very first time — Vonda began to tell her story. She told of times of hardship and abuse at the hands of her husband and spoke of a particular Friday night when she was facing another weekend without food. She borrowed a gun from a friend and decided she would shoot her children and then herself. On the way home, she prayed, “If I ever needed a miracle, it’s now.”
When Vonda pulled into her driveway, she saw two bags of groceries. “An angel sent them,” she said. And Michele, who had been so reluctant to help Vonda on that Friday night, never told her otherwise.(1)
God creates blessed lives with unlikely artisans. We have been blessed from time to time by the work of unlikely artisans. We have been used by God as unlikely artisans, whether we knew it or not. Obedient to God’s call, and in the power of the Holy Spirit, the Lord Jesus can still use us, unlikely artisans that we are. And he will. Maybe even yet today.
General Resource: “Saintly Sinners,” Homiletics, April 18, 2010.
(1) Hershberger, Michele. A Christian View of Hospitality: Expecting Surprises (Scottdale, Penn.: Herald Press, 1999) by above.
Unless noted otherwise, all scripture references are from The Common English Bible, © 2011 www.commonenglishbible.com.
Copyright © 2016 First Presbyterian Church of Waverly, Ohio. Reprinted by permission.
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