Teaching Summary: What Now? (Acts) Humility and Hospitality and the Kingdom of God

Acts 18:18-28

We're continuing our journey through Acts, asking what it looks like to live in light of the resurrection of Jesus. Right now, something beautiful is happening here at Summer Street. On Monday nights, four women meet over Zoom to open the Scriptures together. On Tuesdays, a group of our Brazilian brothers and sisters gather in a couple's home to study the Bible and share life. On Wednesdays, anywhere from 15 to 25 people gather around tables downstairs at the church. On Thursdays at noon, one of our ladies gathers her employees to talk about how God is speaking to them in the Scriptures. On Friday nights, a few men meet at our ministry space on Trotters to read the Bible and encourage one another. And two weeks ago, at one of those tables, in someone's home, a young woman gave her life to Jesus. She met Jesus at the table. What's happening here looks a lot like the church we see emerging in Acts.

But there's a problem. This version of the church doesn't fit the way most of us actually live. Derek Thompson of The Atlantic calls this the anti-social century. Americans are spending more time alone than ever, and yet fewer of us say we feel lonely. We're choosing it, and we like it. Most of us aren't lonely. We're comfortable. And that's how a lot of us do faith too. Barna found that more than half of Christians say their spiritual life is entirely private. But growth is rarely comfortable. A seed must die in the ground before the plant can grow. You can be comfortable, but you may not grow. Spiritual growth happens when we are together.

Usually, one of two beliefs keeps us on the couch. The first is, "I have nothing to give." I'm not the pastor. I don't know enough of the Bible. When Barna asked Christians why they weren't helping anyone else grow, the top answer was that they didn't feel qualified. The second is, "I have nothing to gain." I've been a Christian a long time. I know the stories. I'm doing fine on my own. Both reveal a misunderstanding of how God grows his kingdom, and how he grows us.

In Acts 18, Paul follows the same pattern we've seen throughout the book. He proclaims the gospel, people believe, and he leaves, entrusting these fragile communities not to trained professionals but to ordinary believers. When he sails to Ephesus, he brings a husband and wife named Priscilla and Aquila, and almost as soon as he arrives, he leaves them to care for the believers there. They're tentmakers. Refugees, actually, forced out of Rome when Claudius expelled the Jews (Acts 18:2). They moved to Corinth, then Ephesus, and later back to Rome, and everywhere they went, the church met in their home (1 Corinthians 16:19, Romans 16:5). They never seemed to believe they had nothing to give or nothing to gain. They just went and gathered.

Then Apollos arrives in Ephesus. He's from Alexandria, the intellectual capital of the ancient world. He's learned, knows the Scriptures thoroughly, speaks with great fervor, and teaches about Jesus accurately. But he knows only the baptism of John. What he was missing wasn't information he could get from a book. It was the Spirit-filled life of the church, something he needed to experience at a table. So Priscilla and Aquila invited him into their home and explained the way of God more adequately (Acts 18:26). They took what was good in him and made it better. We call that discipleship. They never thought they had nothing to give this gifted man, and he never thought he had nothing to gain from ordinary tradespeople. They shared a table, and Jesus met them there.

Look at what happens next. Apollos goes to Achaia, the region where Corinth is, and proves from the Scriptures that Jesus is the Messiah (Acts 18:27-28). These are the very people Paul had written off, shaking out his robe in protest. Paul would later write, "I planted the seed, Apollos watered it, but God has been making it grow" (1 Corinthians 3:6). Paul came and went, but Jesus never left. God makes things grow where both the gospel and life are shared. As Paul told the Thessalonians, "we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well" (1 Thessalonians 2:8). God births his church through the sharing of the gospel, but he grows it through the sharing of our lives.

Some of the people God used most to grow me weren't pastors. They were business people, husbands and wives, like Jeff Finkelstein and Ray and Cheryl Tomlinson, who loved me and opened their homes to me. I'm so thankful Jeff never let the thought "I have nothing to give" keep him from sharing the gospel and his life with me and my hoodlum friends.

Two postures answer those two quiet beliefs: humility and hospitality. Humility brought Apollos to the table. It says, "I have something to learn here. Even the newest believer can show me something about Jesus." Hospitality kept Priscilla and Aquila's door open. It says, "There's always an empty chair. Come sit with us." You don't have to host to practice hospitality. Showing up faithfully and making room is hospitality.

We grow in both by starting with Jesus. Humility grows when we remember we were the ones who needed to be taught. Jesus "made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant" (Philippians 2:7). Hospitality grows when we remember we were the ones who were welcomed. Jesus welcomes sinners and eats with them (Luke 15:2). We were the sinners at his table. None of us earned our seat. We were invited. The growth comes from God. Our part is to show up and share our lives.

So before you walk into any table, ask the Holy Spirit, "What do you have for me through these people?" And commit to one table for this season, treating it like a standing appointment. The easiest door is Midweek, Wednesday night at 6pm, downstairs. Or form a Table Group with a couple of friends, and I'll send you a simple guide to get started.

Jesus said that unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed (John 12:24). Community might not feel comfortable. But that longing you have, you won't find it sitting on your couch this week. Show up. And if you already have a seat, look at the empty chair beside you, ask God who it belongs to, and invite them to join you. There's a seat at the table for all of us.