6.16.24 - Strangers and Neighbors at the Gate Called Beautiful (Paul Heagen)

No audio available for this message, but Paul has graciously provided his teaching script!

I’m not so much a teacher as a story-teller, so I’m going to tell some stories --three: one from a few yeast ago, one from 2,000 years ago, and another a few decades ago. As separated as they are by time and place, they essentially are the same story. And that’s the message.

A few years ago, when my wife Carol and I were living in Cincinnati, we were leaving our Sunday church service when we decided to drop in on Home Depot to see what ideas they have for us to spend more money. To fortify ourselves for the adventure, we stopped at a Wendy’s to grab a couple of salads. When I came into the lobby area to order, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy approaching me. I did not look right at him, but even from a glance it was obvious we was living on the ragged edge of life. One of my skills is the keen ability to focus fully on my task and fend off any distractions, so I kept my gaze riveted on the menu board (which I probably had memorized anyway!). After ordering our salads, we took them into the dining area and sat across from each other at one of the tables. I spent a couple of minutes cutting up the salad, putting on the dressing and the toppings when, well...Have you ever had a feeling that there were a pair of eyes on you? The eyes were Carol’s. “You know you should have helped that guy back there.” Always with a good defense at the ready, I said, “Well, I didn’t have any cash on me.” “It didn’t keep you from buying our salads. You put those on credit card.” Trapped like a rat. I look over across the room and our lobby guy was now sitting at a small table by himself, eating what had to be the smallest things you can get at a Wendy’s: a junior burger and a small soda. As I got up and started his way, I tried to rehearse what I might say, something like “Hey, you might remember that you and I met back there in the lobby...” Nope. So I just blurted out “Do you want something more to eat?” He looked up and said “Sure!” “Well, okay then, I’ll get you a regular Dave’s burger and a large Coke. Hey, actually, how about a Dave’s double cheeseburger, a large fries, and a large Coke?” (I was clearly getting into this generosity thing at this point.) He lit up. “Wow, sure!” So, I went back to the lobby, ordered all that up and came back with the tray, sliding it onto his table and saying something like “God loves you.” Returning to me table, I was digging into my salad when I felt those eyes again. “There, doesn’t that feel better.” (What’s that line by Jack Nicholson to Helen Hunt in the movie As Good As It Gets? You make me want to be a better man.

After ten or fifteen minutes, Carol and I were finishing up when we saw our Dave’s Double Cheeseburger Guy also finishing, putting up his tray and coming our way. When he got to our table, he stuck out his hand, said “Thanks. My name is Kyle Alexander.” We introduced ourselves, wished him a good day, and he bounced out the side door, got on his bicycle leaning against the building, and away rode Kyle Alexander. Funny, its been at least eight years, and we still remember his name.

The second story is brought to us from Luke in his Acts Of The Apostles, the third chapter:

One day Peter and John were going up to the temple at the time of prayer—at three in the afternoon.  Now a man who was lame from birth was being carried to the temple gate called Beautiful, where he was put every day to beg from those going into the temple courts.  When he saw Peter and John about to enter, he asked them for money.  Peter looked straight at him, as did John. Then Peter said, “Look at us!”  So the man gave them his attention, expecting to get something from them.  Then Peter said, “Silver or gold I do not have, but what I do have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, walk.”  Taking him by the right hand, he helped him up, and instantly the man’s feet and ankles became strong.  He jumped to his feet and began to walk. Then he went with them into the temple courts, walking and jumping, and praising God.

Sometimes when we read stories like this out of the Bible, it has a reserved, muted tone to it, but when you look at what happened here, it’s amazing, outrageous. Peter and John have just recently received the Holy Spirit and are going to the Temple and Peter takes another one of his leaps of faith and decides to try his hand at healing a crippled beggar. I’m not sure why he thought it would work. Can you imagine if he had grabbed this guy and pulled him up, and them BOOM...the guys falls flat out back on the steps. “Sorry, man, seemed like a good idea.”

“Ow, next time, mister, just drop some coins on the plate like everyone else and be on your way, okay?”

I think every message I’ve heard or study I’ve read on this passage talks about the miracle of the healing, and maybe a side discussion about whether this gift of healing was something just given to the apostles for a short time to kick start their ministry or was something meant for today. I think the greater miracle is what happens inside of Peter, and that’s a miracle of sorts that is accessible to us today. Let’s set the scene. Herod’s Temple is huge. Writing by contemporary historians like Josephus say the entire temple grounds were about 25 acres, surrounding by a wall. That area was like a public plaza, a commons area, maybe looked more like a flea market. Anyone could hang out there. But if you were there for religious business -- praying, offerings, sacrifice -- you did that as a Jew in the temple building itself. To get inside, you had to enter by one of three gates, which led to restricted courtyards. Each gate had cascades of steps leading to them. So, if you’re a beggar looking for yore daily take, sitting at the top of these steps, right in the path of all these religious people, was the place to be. What’s worth noting is that this beggar was a regular fixture there, and this was hardly the first time Peter and John trekked to the temple for prayer.In fact, Luke could have just as easily said as was their practice Peter and John went to the temple at the hour of prayer. The point is, this is not the first time Peter and John saw this lame beggar. But we find it may be the first time they actually LOOKED at him. I don’t know about you, but I find it a bit awkward or uncomfortable to make eye contact with people who personify or represent real need. (Way easier to read menu boards!). Out of sight, out of mind. So, Peter and John both looked at this guy, and Peter said “Look at us.” I wonder what he saw... Hold that thought...

My third story is back when I was growing up in New Jersey and later in St. Louis. For me and my siblings, our favorite family times of the year were Christmas and Easter, but not for the reasons you might imagine. It was because those holidays marked the semi-annual visits of Uncle Ray. Uncle Ray, Raymond McCormick, was actually our great uncle, my grandmother’s brother. The best way to describe him was, well, how many of your remember the old comic strip and TV series Mr. McGoo? The eccentric, balding, nearsighted, good natured, sometimes bumbling but always ebullient character? That was Uncle Ray. He was a bachelor all his life. Went bald in high school, and was barely five feet tall. Likely got teased a lot back then. In his early adult like, he wandered into a used bookstore in lower Manhattan and stayed there working for the next four decades. Despite being so near-sighted, he loved to read, and I think he capitalized on the opportunity to read everything he could get his hands on -- history, mathematics, astronomy, Shakespeare, Greek mythology, science. His reading sated one of his defining characteristics. Did you ever see the movie Rainman with Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise? Rainman was (the term seems awkward in today’s sensibilities) what was called an idiot savant -- socially awkward and lacking common sense, but gifted with a mind beyond genius. (I think it ran in the family, since I had a couple of teachers ask if I was an idiot savant. Well, I added the savant part myself. Uncle Ray played the part naturally. When he showed up, he always had a black suit, white shirt and tie -- likely the clothes he needed to wear at the bookstore and just didn’t have the money or the interest in finding anything else to wear. He would show up with salt water taffy, sit on the couch for hours with us, laughing at our silly jokes, teasing us with riddles. He taught us how to play dominoes, checkers and chess (he would also say “Oh, I’ve got you now!” about four moves ahed of when he finally did, He hollered out at my mother “Hey, Anne, how about if I buy the kids a pony?!” As we danced around the house, my mother talked him down into a toy poodle. We’d be playing dominoes and he would at some point mutter “1,378.” What’s that, he’d ask. He had multiplied all the outlying dominoes just to keep his mind active. He helped us with our homework; our take-home math exam scores were never so high as when Uncle Ray visited us.

Each Christmas, us kids would pool our allowances and get Uncle Ray the same gift -- a tie. He would always admire the long wrapped box and say in mock surprise “Oh, you got me a tie!” That’s where I leaned to tie a tie. I would stand behind him as he sat in a chair. I leaned over him, and with the scent of his pipe tobacco and his wisps of white hair tickling my face, he showed me how to tie a tie. Over the years, as Ray got older and his arthritis kicked in, it was hard for him to do it himself, so he would just loosen it and pull it on and off. So he would show up at Easter with his now slightly baggy black suit, the white shirt dingy from being washed in the sink, and the same tie -- the knot now tight as a fist and sporting a few coffee stains and wrinkles, but he loved his ties. As he got older, we fussed over him, even bought an electric razor and helped him shave his jowly face since he would always miss a few spots. He loved it. We loved Uncle Ray.

I still remember the phone call from my mother a few years after Carol and I had gotten married. Seems Ray was walking up the steps of the same New York subway to his beloved bookstore, but this time he didn’t make it. I guess that amazing heart of his finally gave out. I’m sure some people stopped and helped, but as I hung up the phone I could not escape the image of people rushing by with their busy day and perhaps glancing over to this... Old man, with the stubble on his chin, the baggy suit, dingy shirt and a wrinkled, stained tie and saying if to no one but themselves “Poor bum.” I wanted to be there so say “NO! That’s not some bum. That’s Raymond McCormick. He knows physics and chemistry and math, and can quote Shakespeare and knows history! “NO WAIT.” STOP. LOOK! That’s not some bum. That’s our Uncle Ray and he bought us our first dog and taught us now to play chess and told us riddles, and he loves that tie! Why can’t you see that?!

Why can’t we see that?

Peter looked straight at him, as did John, and Peter said “Look at us.” What did he see? The same crippled beggar? Or a Kyle Alexander? Someone’s Uncle Ray? Peter looked, Peter saw, and that was the miracle. Peter touched him -- maybe the first time that lame beggar had been touched by anyone on those steps, and raised him up -- in more ways than just physically -- in the name of Jesus. That man -- lame since birth -- DANCED into the temple courts, a place he never expected to experience, a place where he was never considered worthy enough to enter, a place where he became someone other than just a lane beggar.

I’ve shared three stories -- all really the same story -- but there is one more story. I’d like you to consider three questions:

Where is your Gate Called Beautiful? Where is it you go regularly, maybe every day, routinely, to go about your lives? A place where you intersect with people, maybe even take for granted as always being there. Your community, your street, at work, maybe even through the doors of this building?

Who is your crippled beggar? You don’t have to think of someone as a beggar, but there are people all around us who are “crippled” -- crippled by a tragedy, a struggle, a broken relationship, dealing with a loss or sorrow, financial struggles, maybe even just lonely. People who, if you slowed down and looked, you might see them with new eyes.

Finally, what is your touch? It doesn’t have to be as dramatic as what Peter had with his gift of healing, but we all have gifts we can offer. We all have a specialness, something of value, to offer someone that might be all or exactly what they need, and might make all the difference.

In those three questions -- where is your Gate Beautiful, who is your crippled beggar, what is your touch -- is your story.