Standing, Alone: Applications from Acts
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“While the truths of God’s word were drawing me to his church body and his heart, expressions of classmates kindled a fear in me”
From the very beginning days of my walk with Christ, God has shown me over and over again how instantaneously a season can change, a heart can soften, and a life can turn around. The method we execute our ministry can be altered by typically unpredictable and often what we deem as “unfortunate” circumstances. Being quarantined, stuck at home, and almost completely immobilized instead of our busy days outside of our home is a change so severe that it came with minimal warning and affects all of us in different ways. What does it mean to adapt to this? How can my feet be beautiful which preach the gospel of peace, bringing glad tidings of good things, if my feet can’t move? (Rom 10:15) How can I participate in the Great Commission if I’m not even allowed to go ye therefore?
As a member of C&YA, I’ve been walking through the Acts of the Apostles under the weekly teachings of our pastor, Brandon Briscoe. Recently, we’ve been looking at Paul’s response to persecution for obediently sharing the gospel. Not the nonconsequential, painless ridicule we seldom face in our comfortable American lives but the kind which stones him with rocks and leaves him for dead.
Acts 14:19 ...having stoned Paul, drew him out of the city, supposing he had been dead. 20 Howbeit, as the disciples stood round about him, he rose up, and came into the city: and the next day he departed with Barnabas to Derbe.
Paul is seen rising up, standing, walking, persisting, and sharing the gospel once again in the very next verse. As I reflect on the ministry God has placed me in through these past few years, this has not been true of my walk. I have often allowed myself to grow weary. I have often deceived myself by relying on my own ability, and I have often failed to open my mouth in times I could have.
When I was nearing the end of my freshman year at the Kansas City Art Institute, I started discipleship and learned about the importance of my witness. While the truths of God’s word were drawing me to his church body and his heart, expressions of classmates kindled a fear in me of their response to real truth. In the following few years in my major studio, the sharing of my faith was occasional at best. I begged God for an opportunity to speak of him in projects and presentations, and he always answered those prayers and gave me consistent opportunities to share the gospel with an entire class or group of people at once. However, I was still struggling with my pursuit of the individual, in classes that were only lecture-based, or a studio full of girls who were disinterested in a walk with Christ.
“God equipped us, grew our hearts to edify one another, and most definitely enlarged my heart ”
God hit the reset button on the trajectory of this in my current spring semester after Mission Focus. During the worship set one night, we sang the lyrics: “There is power in the name of Jesus, to break every chain -- break every chain.” I remember imagining the lost people in my life, in physical chains, each chain representing their specific forms of bondage to the world, their yet unforgiven sin, their vain efforts, their false idols. Some of the chains seemed so relentless and strong that I remember thinking, how can chains such as these possibly be broken?
The Holy Spirit called me out right away. God was telling me I simply wasn’t believing him. In my flawed human logic, I wasn’t actually convinced in the saving power of the name of his Son. This came from an incorrect perspective of my heart, based on my understanding of how “big” or “unsaveable” I deemed the losts’ sin issues or distractions to be. He invited me to repent of that unbelief immediately and trust in the power of his name to save every last soul I could think of: “...if God peradventure will give them repentance to the acknowledging of the truth;” (2 Ti 2:25).
Zooming out further, my life in ministry has always felt like stepping along a timeline full of unexpected, unusual circumstances. Going from a quiet, unused house with no roommates to a busy house full of faithful sisters and ministry opportunities. God has shown me firsthand the transformation not just of my own walk with him but of the environment around me to better suit my platform for sharing the gospel.
A year ago, I was gearing up for my first small group split after two years under the leadership of Alex & Amanda Allen, who loved me and led me on countless late nights, hard times, and seasons of all kinds. They taught me how to divide God’s word, how to prepare my heart in surrender to the Lord, and how to prepare for the investment of God’s word into others, no matter what that may look like.
Fast forward, the Bible study split landed in my living room with six girls and more questions about how to do what we were doing than we actually needed answers to. God equipped us, grew our hearts to edify one another, and most definitely enlarged my heart to “mom heart” to over a dozen girls now. I love these girls with all my heart and see now more than ever the importance of coming alongside each other in our pursuit of the souls we are burdened for.
“In a time that our feet must physically stand still, do we know how to “stand” in the first place?”
However, my walk has attracted a level-up attack from the enemy since the Fall of 2019 when a tragedy occurred in our small group leader’s life, which caused me to become the facilitator of our Bible study. Suddenly, Wednesdays did not seem so cozy or exciting. I often woke up feeling heavy, unreasonably sad, or burdened by sometimes unidentifiable weights. The enemy tried his best to remove the confidence I had in Christ, to tell me I was a fruitless fill-in for the job, and to slow me down in my outreach to souls at KCAI. While working hard each day to meet increasing school demands, I allowed weariness to come quick and Wednesdays to knock me off my feet. God constantly proved his love for me by redirecting my perspective, reminding me that he would go before me and lead us all in his word. He always has done this and will continue to faithfully, humbling each heart in our living room and provoking us to greater faith.
When God convicted me of my lingering unbelief at Mission Focus, everything truly started to change. I grew desperate for souls at the Art Institute to know the one true God and how to glorify him. Several weeks later, an on-campus co-ed Bible study started under Brandon’s leadership. Each week we met, more new faces joined us and filled the table with up to 14 people. I felt more encouraged in our work there together than I ever had before. Finally, it felt like I knew how to fish. Finally, I had Bible studies to invite people to which were either on campus or just a block away. I could look back at the prayer walks and early mornings with Victoria and Jaclyn in 2016 and see prayers tangibly answered in the fruit in front of my eyes.
Looking again at Paul’s response in every circumstance and trial he faces (read 2 Corinthians 11:22-33 for a detailed list), the first step to continuing in the work was his simple act of standing back up. Do we raise up and stand in the same way, even at attack so much smaller in comparison? In a time that our feet must physically stand still, do we know how to “stand” in the first place?
Ephesians 6 comes to mind when I think of this word stand. Ephesians 6:11 says, “Put on the whole armour of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil.” Again, in verse 13. And again, in verse 14. While reflecting on these verses this week, God has convicted me of the armor I’ve chosen to wear. Whether it was my lack of confidence in Christ, my insecurity (pride), my fatigue, or my sadness, I was usually not resolved to stand. I let myself faint on occasions it seemed needed, so I could let other members of the body fill in for me and get the “rest” I thought I needed. Of course, this came from reliance on my own ability to work hard or to meet expectations that weren’t even real.
Instead of God’s armor, I wore the breastplate of slothfulness. My loins girt about with truth… mixed in with a little deception. My feet shod with silence. Holding the shield of self, wearing the helmet of depression. This is the weak, unreliable armor I had consistently worn in my beginning days at KCAI, but this spring season, for the first time, has been so clearly and joyfully different. God had taught us the realities of the spiritual warfare around us. God had placed more feet on the ground on campus and given us the true armor of God to wear (Eph 6:13-20). What does it mean to have our freshly-shod feet removed from the very field I felt I could finally grasp ministering to?
“My worship of God’s name needed lines of distinction drawn, to expose where pieces of self or the world were trying to steal his spot on the throne.”
One way God uses his Holy Spirit in my life is to bring me to remembrance (John 14:26) of him and how he deserves my praise & prioritization with thoughts like “seek ye first the kingdom of God” (Mat 6:33) as well as “in the morning will I direct my prayer unto thee” (Psa 5:3). These verses remind me promptly each morning of my need to repent of my fleshly disposition and surrender myself to him. However, since the quarantine period has begun, I’ve had less “events” of the day to surrender to him. Instead of relying on a schedule of movement, of going here, going there, doing this thing, doing that thing, I’m home alone with the same responsibilities, with the added responsibility of scheduling my own time to perform the same tasks. The temptation is subtle: I can steward my time more loosely, I can sleep in a little bit longer, and I can spend more time on the screens we give so much time to already. Without seeking out accountability, these things all go unseen. Do we still decide to seek God in our prayer closets, where many of us now have the option to dwell all day long? Do we still recognize the need to wear the true armor of God?
A few days into this, I noticed myself struggling. How do I seek you, God? Why don’t I feel desperate? Why do I feel heavy? Why do I feel even wearier than I would if I were functioning in my normal day-to-day busy-ness? While I stumbled around in disorientation, looking for answers of my own human understanding, fainting felt reasonable. Falling, “resting,” and taking this month to check out or relax could feel logical to many of us—in the moments we walk in our flesh or allow the world to feed us instead of God’s word. God answered my questions quickly with his word, exposing to me the surface level way I’d been approaching him lately. I have been hungry because I have not been diligent to be fed by the bread, water, milk, meat, and sweet honey of God’s word. My worship of God’s name needed lines of distinction drawn, to expose where pieces of self or the world were trying to steal his spot on the throne.
God exposed to me that I often worship my to-do list before his name. I please myself by doing well and meeting my own expectations for a day. I get up too early, go to bed too late, and feed myself with busy-ness and work, with a simultaneous attitude of slothfulness. I look down at my feet, see them moving, and deceive myself imagining the fruit they could bring. The words of Christ remind us, “Abide in me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, except it abide in the vine; no more can ye, except ye abide in me” (John 15:4). God has transformed my sorrow for feeling fruitless, or unproductive in my flesh, to a genuine godly sorrow for the lost souls who are expressing such anxiety and worry. Though I can’t physically be with them, he has already given me so much opportunity at this time to share my faith.
One of my favorite spiritual pictures of our identity in Christ is in 2 Samuel 9. Mephibosheth, (son of Jonathan, who is the son of Saul), is lame in both of his feet and is brought to David. David assures him that he will show him kindness, restore his fathers’ land and that he will always have a place at his table. Mephibosheth’s response is filled with humility and sorrow for his own condition: “What is thy servant, that thou shouldest look upon such a dead dog as I am?” (2 Sam 9:8). Mephibosheth is well-aware of his physical inability to serve or do anything for the king, but David insists again that he will always have bread at his table. “As for Mephibosheth, said the king, he shall eat at my table, as one of the king's sons” (2 Sam 9:11). As believers, we are all Mephibosheth in the sense of our inability to “do” anything for God. We are lame in our feet and sit at God’s table only because of whose sons & daughters we are, his! Because of our identity, not the performance of our feet, we continue to be provided for and loved by him at his table.
But now, more than ever, we share Mephibosheth’s same lameness. We cannot even be tempted to rely on our own works to subconsciously self-justify; we must be confident only in the Father who gave us seats at his table, as sons and daughters of the King. I can no longer be blinded by my own ability to check things off a to-do list. I can no longer rely on going places, seeing people, and doing physical things to feel like I’m making full proof of my ministry (2 Ti 4:5).
“This glorification is what we are on earth to do”
All believers globally are, in some form, unified in our physical paralysis. Though we are lame in our feet, God calls us to keep standing. While God can and is using this time to call us to more faith, Satan is soberly at work. We are stopped in our tracks physically, but we need not be stopped in our walks spiritually. Yes, we must “seek God,” but we must seek God truly in the quiet of our hearts, behind the closed doors of our homes, and we must actually, tangibly, and individually know what it means to do this. Our worship must be directed to the one true God—set apart entirely from the false idols of our fleshly selves. We must refuse to allow our circumstances to silence us and must continue showing up to God’s table as his children, desperate for bread.
A simple and comforting truth is the beautiful glorification which Christ receives when we go through trials of our faith: “That the trial of your faith, being much more precious than of gold that perisheth, though it be tried with fire, might be found unto praise and honour and glory at the appearing of Jesus Christ:” (1 Pe 1:7). This trial of my faith, and many others, is more precious than gold, or the best circumstances I could ever imagine, because of the praise, glory, and honour to Jesus Christ. To believe or behave otherwise is to deny God’s word, to choose discontentment, or to have weak, fainting faith. This glorification is what we are on earth to do, and God deserves our unending praise. Abiding with him only and believing in this promise will bring fruit. In this time of sitting in stillness at God’s table, our lame feet still get to move, our mouths can still open, and seeds can still be sown.
Psalm 34:3 O magnify the LORD with me, and let us exalt his name together.
Rian Stallbaumer is a discipler and small group leader in Midtown Baptist Temple’s College and Young Adults ministry. She is on the C&YA photo team and is a member of Temple Worship.