Acts 8:9-25 "Not For Sale!" Scott Hoezee

What's not for sale these days? For the most part, we have come to absorb, rather benignly, the hyper-commercialization of our society. Ours is a logo culture, and the presence of corporate logos is so pervasive, we mostly don't even notice it anymore. The Nike swoop is on just about every article of clothing Tiger Woods wears in public. Watch the tennis players at Wimbledon next week and you will be able to tell right away who the higher ranked players are over against the newcomers: the well-known and famous players will be the ones decked out in sweatbands, shirts, and shorts covered with swoops, golden arches, Gatorade bottles, and what all not.

This past winter we saw once again the commercialization of the Olympics as those five Olympic rings were splashed all over the place. But does it really make sense to talk about "the official popcorn, the official candy bar, the official TV dinner of the 2002 Winter Olympics?" The athletes who play in those games got to the Olympics precisely by avoiding most of the junk food declared to be "official" for those same games. Yet we likely didn't bat an eye at all that.

Similarly, not so long ago, we simply had "The Tournament of Roses" parade on New Year's Day, the Cotton Bowl football game, and the Daytona 500 car race. But now we are treated to things like "The Nabisco Tournament of Roses" parade, the "Coca-Cola Cotton Bowl," and "The Burger King Daytona 500." Again, however, we just blandly accept this as the way things have to go. We also let our children (and ourselves) become walking billboards for Tommy Hilfiger, Nike, Pepsi, and Disney.

But is there anything that's not for sale? Where do we draw the line? Will we some day have a presidential inauguration brought to us by Chevrolet? What would you think if you attended church somewhere only to hear the minister say at the beginning, "This morning's worship service is being sponsored by Amway: Clean Hands, Clean Hearts for God!" Or suppose you partook of communion only to notice that Nike swoop etched onto your little wine cup. Would that be enough to arrest your attention, to cast into bold relief the over-commercialization of life? What's not for sale? Where do we draw the line in refusing some conglomerate's money, image, name, and logo? And don't think I'm being merely silly. According to a recent article, there is now a megachurch in Texas that includes, in its narthex, a McDonald's restaurant. Considering the way some congregations today are trying to make their churches look more like informal coffee houses than formal houses of worship, surely there must be a church somewhere sponsored in part by Starbucks.

What's not for sale? If the church struggles with this question in the year 2002, it should come as no surprise. The church was only a few months old when it first encountered someone who thought that the Holy Spirit could, like most anything else, also be bought and sold. This morning let's look at this incident in Acts 8 to see what it can teach our age.

The incidents in Acts 8 occur right after the murder of Stephen and the other waves of persecution that quickly followed. As it turned out, however, trying to wipe out the church by persecuting it was like trying to get rid of dandelions by blowing on them after they've gone to seed: the result was not the killing of the movement but the scattering of its seeds far and wide. As the apostles and their followers were forced on the run, the result was the spread of the gospel to places it had not previously gone. Acts 8 brings us to Samaria, which is the place to which Philip ran after being chased out of Jerusalem. There Philip boldly preached the good news and performed many miracles.

It didn't take long before Philip attracted the attention of a local celebrity named Simon. For years Simon had made a name for himself as the Houdini of his day. Like most entertainers, Simon was a shameless self-promoter, publicly proclaiming himself to be "someone great" the way Muhammed Ali once unabashedly called himself "the great one." He was a magician, skilled at sleight of hand and maybe also a dabbler in sorcery. However he did it, Simon was good at eliciting gasps of astonishment from people. As his audiences dispersed following his shows, Simon could overhear the people saying, "That guy is the Great Power." And Simon didn't disagree!

But then one day Simon met his match in Philip. Suddenly Simon was being upstaged by some newcomer to Samaria who was casting out demons, healing diseases, and making the lame to walk. It was all being done by chanting the name "Christ Jesus," and so Simon figured that the future of his act might well depend on his being able to tap into this powerful Somebody. So we are told that Simon professed belief in this Jesus and allowed himself to be baptized along with a good many other Samaritans.

Just here is where Acts 8 becomes a bit strange and controversial. News of the gospel's advance in Samaria (of all places!) reached the leading apostles, who dispatch Peter and John to check things out. It almost seems as though the lead apostles wanted to ensure that the purity of the gospel was being maintained and so they send out Peter and John almost the way our denomination now sends out synodical deputies. After all, somebody had to do quality control when it came to the proclamation of the gospel.

And good thing, too, because no sooner do Peter and John arrive in Samaria and they discover that Philip had clearly not paid sufficient attention the day the apostles taught him the doctrine of the Trinity! Philip had been baptizing in the name of Jesus only, not in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. So Peter and John need to close the circle by imparting also the Pentecostal power of the Holy Spirit. They accomplished this by their laying hands on the people Philip had already baptized.

Needless to say, a welter of questions arises about this incident. Also needless to say, a whole sea of ink has been spilled down through the ages in trying to parse the meaning of Philip's apparently "incomplete" baptism as well as this laying on of hands. Charismatics have long claimed Acts 8 as validation for their idea that there is a "second blessing," a "baptism in the Holy Spirit" that comes to some believers but not all. The Holy Spirit is not, they claim, automatically given at baptism, and Acts 8 is proof.

Others have pointed out, however, that this laying on of hands is quite obviously the exception, not the rule. This is how things went in this particular situation due to some mistake Philip had made. But the presumption would be that had there been baptism into the triune name of God in the first place, such a laying on of hands would not have been necessary. Apparently, the power of God's Spirit is ordinarily part and parcel of all true baptisms. It is dicey, therefore, to make Acts 8 normative.

There are, of course, still questions that linger even if you agree with this explanation. But rather than get caught up in all of that, it is probably best to let the story pull us along. Because in Acts 8 it seems clear that the main lesson centers on the reaction of this man Simon. There clearly was a powerful jolt that came once Peter and John anointed people with the very Spirit of God. Simon had made an entire career out of performing tricks with his own hands, and so once he spies Peter and John doing this, he simply has to find a way to get this into his act. Perhaps they'd be willing to sell Simon the copyright to this bit of razzle-dazzle, and so Simon offers Peter and John a sizeable sum of money to purchase the exclusive rights to this Pentecost franchise.

In the NIV of verse 20, Peter's reply to this offer is pretty severe. Truth is, this has been toned down because literally translated from the Greek, Peter says, "Your silver and you can go to hell." The word Peter uses there is the same word used elsewhere in the New Testament to refer to the eternal destruction in perdition of evildoers. Peter then goes on to explain why he has used so damning a phrase. Simon's heart is still in darkness, he hasn't really turned toward God after all, despite his baptism. So Simon is told to repent quickly of his wickedness, of his bitterness, and of his still being held hostage to sin.

Well, Peter succeeded in getting Simon's attention! This account ends with Simon's plaintive plea for Peter to pray for him so that all that bad stuff would never come his way. But we're not told whether Peter laid his hands on Simon so that he could receive the Spirit in the right way. The story just ends. We never hear of this man again in the New Testament. Simon did, however, become the stuff of legend in the early church. He was soon dubbed "Simon Magus," that second name coming from the same root word as the "Magi" in Matthew's gospel. Simon the Magician shows up in a few of the apocryphal writings of the New Testament era.

Some claimed that he did not repent but went on to found a heretical movement in the first century. Some say he formed an early branch of the Gnostic heresy that proclaims salvation comes through learning magic words of wisdom. Others say he formed a sect known as the Simonians. But most of that is speculation and legend. The one way for sure that Simon has lived on in the church is in the sin of "simony." Simony is selling ministry for profit. If I charged each of you $5 just to partake of the Lord's Supper or if I nicked parents $50 to get their baby baptized, I would be guilty of simony and so liable to discipline.

But wondering about whatever became of Simon is less important than learning from his mistake as we find it in Acts 8. What exactly was it in Simon's request to purchase access to the Spirit that upset Peter so very much? Probably there are several reasons. One clue may be in the fact that Peter refers to the Spirit as "the gift of God." Peter rightly saw Simon's offer as a threat to grace, as though human effort, money, or skill were all that a person needed to get at God's power. You could maybe take a detour right around the cross itself and just buy your way into God's favor. No sacrifice was needed beyond a fiscal sacrifice, beyond what you yourself coughed up.

But anyone who thinks that way has clearly not pondered what Jesus did. Anyone who claims that there is another way, any other way, to get at God without yielding completely before the sacrifice of God's Son, insults God by saying in essence that Jesus died for nothing.

At one time or another some of us have perhaps given a loved one a great gift only to feel deeply wounded when the gift's receiver tries to pay us back. You feel diminished, cheapened even, if someone responds to an act you did sheerly out of the goodness of your heart by shoving a wad of money your way. You're not supposed to pay people for gifts because then it is no longer a gift but a purchase, a transaction, something that takes the goodness of your own heart out of the picture. If you buy something from me, you're not beholden to me, not even in the bare minimal sense of feeling grateful. People who insist on never receiving a gift without giving you some money in return are essentially saying, "I don't want to be in anyone's debt."

But if salvation can come only through the gracious gift of Jesus' having done it all for us on the cross, then to try paying for that is like saying you don't want to be in God's debt. You don't think it needs to be a gift at all. But if that kind of thing can wound us when trying to give someone a gift, think of how hugely that is magnified when the gift in question is the death of God's beloved Son. That is an insult that is finally unfathomable.

But I suspect there is something more to glean from this incident. The gospel is not a commodity. It is not for sale because it cannot be for sale without ruining it. Servants get paid for attending to our needs, friends do this out of love. Prostitutes get paid for performing sexual favors, spouses are sexual companions because of love. Some things cannot be bought or sold or underwritten or corporately sponsored because the very attempt to do so kills the thing in question.

But if that is true, then it seems to me that a key lesson of Acts 8 for today is that the mentality of "anything goes" when it comes to gospel proclamation is wrong. Some today all-but claim that no matter what means get used to promote the gospel, they are legitimate so long as they get results. If a style of worship packs the pews, if putting a McDonald's into the narthex attracts attention, then woe to those who would dare say something against it.

And let's admit that caution is called for when assessing such practices. But let's also admit that Acts 8 may bear witness to the fact that not every way to promote the gospel is the right way. Peter and John could have gone along with Simon, after all. Considering his celebrity status in that neck of the woods, getting Simon to endorse the gospel would be like snagging Michael Jordan or Jennifer Lopez to hawk your wares. What's more, the guy was ready to make a hefty contribution into the early church's ministry fund. Last week we heard Peter say, "Silver and gold have we none," so we know they could have used a budget boost.

So why not just take it. Why not just say, "Hey, we know the guy is a little different, and we can't agree completely with his techniques, but we think that overall it will be good for our cause to get a heavyweight like him on our side. He knows how to attract a crowd, he communicates well and has a lot of show business savvy. So that outweighs the other stuff." But they couldn't say that. They'd rather consign this man and his money and his ideas to hell than let him pollute the pure gospel. Peter and John knew what we sometimes forget: there are some people who claim to be saved who need to be told to get lost.

The gospel is not for sale. The church is not for sale. Because if it ever is--if we ever arrive at the day when we have "The Starbucks Easter Celebration" or a "Baptism sponsored by Benetton--then we will have lost the gospel by making it one more commodity, one more tradeable item in a world where we already are living what one author recently called "the sponsored life."

And although what I just said may tilt toward the absurd, maybe we need to wonder what happens to us spiritually even when we live saturated by logos in non-church settings. Although lots of money would pour into coffers that never have enough, would it really be a good idea if someday we had the "Meijers Grand Rapids Christian School Association"? Is the lure of money so great that we could tolerate our children winning ribbons in the "Kraft National Spelling Bee" or the "McDonald's State Basketball Finals"? How long before everything feels like just another sponsored item, just another matter of money?

What's not for sale? And why might it be a good idea to draw some lines when it comes to such matters? Perhaps Acts 8 can help us answer such questions by reminding us that there are some things in life that are so precious, so dear to the very heart of God himself, that we dare not let them be sullied even a little bit. The gospel, and the church that proclaims that gospel, need to stand over against our culture of greed and idolatry, of entertainment and sloth, not stand with all of that just because we need the money.

We don't know what became of Simon, though we hope that he did repent of his mistake, give up his attempts to buy God's grace, and so lived the life of a disciple. As far as Simon is concerned, we can but hope that is what happened. As far as we ourselves are concerned, however, we must do more than just hope: we must work and pray that we and our children will also be true disciples--followers of the Lord Jesus Christ who know deeply the enormity of grace's gift. We proclaim ever and only the good news of the gift. And so we know that it is not for sale. Amen.