Romans 4:13-25 13 It was not through the law that Abraham and his offspring received the promise that he would be heir of the world, but through the righteousness that comes by faith. 14 For if those who depend on the law are heirs, faith means nothing and the promise is worthless, 15 because the law brings wrath. And where there is no law there is no transgression 16 Therefore, the promise comes by faith, so that it may be by grace and may be guaranteed to all Abraham’s offspring—not only to those who are of the law but also to those who have the faith of Abraham. He is the father of us all. 17 As it is written: “I have made you a father of many nations.”[c] He is our father in the sight of God, in whom he believed—the God who gives life to the dead and calls into being things that were not. 18 Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, “So shall your offspring be.”[d] 19 Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. 20 Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, 21 being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised. 22 This is why “it was credited to him as righteousness.” 23 The words “it was credited to him” were written not for him alone, 24 but also for us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead. 25 He was delivered over to death for our sins and was raised to life for our justification.
Being Father’s day, I would like to do something a little different. I want to introduce you to a friend of mine in a moment, but before I do, everything that follows is taken either from the text of Romans, the majority of scholarly consensus around some areas that Romans does not specifically address and for the more minute details and as a starting point in case you want to explore some of what you’re about to hear further, I would recommend this book: ‘Romans, Disarmed’ by Sylvia Keesmaat and Brian Walsh.
This morning I want to ask you to use your imagination, but do so with the knowledge, that although the main character and specific events are fictional, the concepts and circumstances that they point to are 100% real.
Hi, my name is Crispus you don’t know me but hopefully someday someone will find this inscription I’ve carved on my master’s wall. I’m a slave in the house of Narcissus. My wife and I became slaves to him in payment of a debt we owed after a fire destroyed the cook stall that we were renting from him. I guess he is not the worst owner by roman standards, and I’m thankful to have a task that many slaves would love to have but the fact of the matter is, I’m still a slave. Because he is a senate secretary, my role is to supply and wait on my master’s table, particularly when he is hosting high profile meetings. For years and years, I’ve listened to conversations about the glory of Rome, faithfulness to empire and Roman virtue; the gods protect the strong etc. I almost bought it hook line and sinker I almost believed at all but then one day my master did something I thought I’d never forgive.
Usually is my role to go to the market place each day to buy supplies with my master’s money for the table but one day it wasn’t I who went, but my master and it was not money that he took, but my children. My son, my daughter. Now look, I understand that given the role of my wife at my masters’ parties, they probably were not even my children. I know that slaves don’t even have children but rather ‘bodies’ and these bodies are fully the property of my master. I get how this life is meant to work but for all this talk about the virtues of Empire how could it ever be right to take someone’s children from them? How could they ever be ‘better off’ being sold to another household to be raised the Roman way?
I don’t care what people say, I don’t even care if my son my daughter wasn’t actually mine or not, I was their father because I loved them. I knew that I should not have been feeling that way, but I couldn’t stop it. The most frustrating thing of all was that I knew that in spite of my rage I was still just a rat in a marble cage.
After that I wasn’t sure I believed anymore in what I was told to believe in. Since that day I’ve started to see things differently. Let me give an example: one day there was another evangelist that came into the city with the latest gospel from our illustrious Caesar, this time it was another Germanic tribe that had been defeated and the glory the empire extended. I’m not sure why this used to excite me, I knew this was meant to be good news, but it seemed that what’s good news for Caesar is bad news for everyone else or at least for most people. Maybe the roots of my cynicism went back to the fact that my father ‘died gloriously’ for the empire when I was only little.
But soon on my trips to the marketplace I heard more and more rumours of a different gospel, this time not from Caesar and not from an evangelist not from the army but from everyday people, some called them ‘apostles’. It claimed be good news for everyone, but I wasn’t so sure. I found out it was about this Jewish Carpenter who claimed to be the Messiah and then embarrassingly, got himself crucified on a cross. I don’t think the news would have even reached Rome had it not been for people all over the empire reporting sightings of him after he had died. I used to think this was probably the single stupidest thing I’d ever heard in my life until one day my life changed forever.
One day as I was purchasing more supplies for my master’s household to prepare the evening meal, I was nearly bowled over by a woman running through the marketplace holding a scroll. I later learned that her name was Phoebe and she was a partner in the ministry of the ex-Jewish terrorist we knew as Saul but had since apparently changed his name. She looked at my branding that marked me as a slave of Narcissus’ house, picked up the scroll she dropped, smiled slightly and continued off into the crowd. I turned to pay the vendor and as I did, his voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper: “are you going tonight? there’s a meeting in the shop of “Prisca and Aquilla they talking about this new gospel and reading a letter from Paul.”
I had not much been in the mood to hear more good news. Every gospel I heard so far had broken its promise and besides, this was the exact same marketplace in which my master had sold my children. I missed them so much sometimes I wondered if I saw their faces out the corner of my eye only to realise it was the usual tanners, dyers blacksmith’s and vendors that were always there. But that day as I walked back to my master’s house, I realised that with them gone, my wife and I had nothing left to lose. That night, whispering so quiet that only she could hear, I told her what happened in the marketplace and what was going to be happening tonight in a few hours’ time. For the first time in a long time I……prayed, prayed that we wouldn’t wake anyone up as we snuck outside of the house during the night through the window. It’s funny how you risk your life when everything is taken from you. I also realised how much this new movement of ‘Christians’ was a movement born in the dark, literally, as people made their way to secret meetings in the pitch dark after the lamps were put out.
We arrived at the shop of Priscilla and Aquilla there was Phoebe who had run into me that day at the marketplace. I was just able to make out her face in the candlelight next to which was the scroll. The curtains of the tent were drawn and the reading began. I’ll never forget my shock at the words I heard next: “Paul, a slave, not of some earthly master but as it turned out, of this strange Jewish Carpenter turned rabbi; Jesus.
It was the last thing I was expecting, but then neither was I expecting that the first chapter would describe a typical Saturday night at my master’s house and I was never expecting this strange, ‘Apostle’ they call him, to resonate with what it’s like to do things that you don’t want to be doing and not be able to do what you want to do.
But the thing that hit me the most, was that within the first three sentences, He called me to be set apart to be loved by a father God. Later, This Paul then began to talk about this person of Abraham that I remember the Jews always talked about, but this wasn’t like anything I have ever heard before. This ‘Paul’ explained his letter that by sheer faith Abraham had become the father of many nations, not based on blood but on a promise. (My mind turned to my lost children for a moment.) And now, through our faith in this Jesus, this Jewish God might become our father too….and under his care, I no longer need to be ashamed.
But somehow, I was sort of ashamed in a different way. I wish I hadn’t avoided this message for so long, I began to wonder if this God had been calling me for a few years now until one of his followers had to literally knock me over before I would listen. As these and more thoughts cycled over and over in my head, I don’t know what came over me but something strange happened.
Maybe it was because I never knew my father or maybe because it was because I so wanted to believe that, unlike Jupiter, who only cared only for the ‘empire’ this Father God maybe cared for my children who had been taken from me,…..but all I could do was fall on my knees. I cried out “I need this Father!” The vendor at the market I saw earlier that day placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder as I sobbed uncontrollably. In that moment, I realised I wanted to be a follower of this Son of God. I wanted to be a part of this family.
After the reading was over, my new friend prayed for me; I still have so much to find out about this Jesus, but I know that I want to be his follower. I’ve since found that I’ve even come to believe in his resurrection, and that I’m forgiven. Maybe that is what, grabbed me the most, is that this Jesus, defeated his enemies, even death not by fighting, but by submitting. If that’s true then as a slave, I already know how to do that! Our master’s yoke is indeed light!
Anyway, back to that night, dawn was in less than an hour and we turned to leave, out of the darkness, Aquila approached me and said “Crispus is it?” I said “yes,” he said “Phoebe told us about you in the marketplace today. She noticed you were a salve of the household of Narcissus,” We have contacted your master and were going to arrange to buy you in first thing in the morning.”
I didn’t know what to say nothing like that had ever happened to me before, but waves of joy were immediately swallowed by waves of sadness. As I noticed my wife have been silent for this entire meeting. I asked, “What about my wife?” Aquila looked down and said sadly, “We are only able to purchase the release of one slave, we were not aware that you were married.” My heart sank, but then somehow, I realised that I would be free where ever I lived so I said to him: “take her into your care, purchase her, and I will remain with my master, but now we need to get back.” I’m not going to talk about the look on her face that, that I save for me alone.
The first light of dawn interrupted a chance to say goodbye. I turned to leave as the pitch darkness was slowly replaced by dawn shadows and though the light was low, I’ll never forget those two faces I saw huddled in the corner amongst the other children. This Jesus had indeed taken my children in, and I didn’t even know it.
That was 5 years ago now. Last year, our new emperor Claudius expelled all the Jews from Rome, so Priscilla and Aquilla have moved to Corinth. The marketplace church they started still runs though. We call ourselves, ‘redeemed slaves’ and we do an afternoon service in the same shop tent which is perfect for my evening grocery run. I get to worship with my family and new family never let me leave without enough fresh supplies to help me maintain the ruse that I am indeed going for the evening groceries.
Each time we gather, my wife seems to be softening to the gospel of Jesus, as her wounds, physical and emotional are slowly healed by our new ‘church’, yep we decided to steal that word off Caesar as well. It seems now that’s some people of influence are starting to become Christians. Our new leader; Epenetus tells me that he is working on securing my release from the household of Narcissis. But I actually don’t mind. I’ve even taken to pray for my master, and he has showed me favour. the other day he caught me doing something he’d never seen me do before. I was laughing.
Whoever you are that is hearing this, I look forward to meeting you one day as we stand before our common father in heaven, whose love we have as an inheritance through his Son. Whatever our community looks like in your time, or wherever you meet, please don’t forget our story, please don’t forget how we started. I feel it a privilege to call you all brothers and sisters; regards, Crispus.
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So, folks, we return to normal programming next week. But this father’s day I just wanted us to stand in the shoes of our ancient ancestors, and take joy in the fact, that whatever our earthly experience of Fatherhood is, we have come to share in an inheritance of our heavenly father, who is the father of that alien, the fatherless and the widow.