One of the many disappointing realities about the American political landscape is the lack of ownership. It’s not just politicians who shirk ownership – we all do. When my microphone sounds wonky, my mind immediately goes to the sound tech wondering if he will remedy his mistake, not to the more likely responsible party: myself. I probably moved the microphone or pulled the cord.
Of course, we know that avoiding ownership usually backfires. Our esteem falls for those who dodge responsibility. But even still, the temptation to blame shift is strong in all of us.
In Acts 6:1, an explosive accusation is leveled at the apostles: “Now in these days when the disciples were increasing in number, a complaint by the Hellenists arose against the Hebrews because their widows were being neglected in the daily distribution.” The Greek speaking Jewish widows (i.e. Hellenists) weren’t being given the same level of care as the Hebrew speakers.
There are many layers to this seemingly simple concern. Since the Hebrews were not fluent in Greek, they seem to have overlooked the Greek-speaking widows unintentionally. One can imagine that the language barrier between those distributing the food and those receiving the food could have been the cause for the neglect.
Pause and place yourself in the apostles’ sandals for a moment. How would you have responded to this accusation: especially given the likelihood it was unintentional? If I was an apostle—weary from preaching the good news, nerves on edge from being arrested, life in danger, the weight of responsibility of leading a fledgling group of followers of Jesus on my shoulders—I would have probably snapped. “Who do you think you are?” “No one was getting any food at all just a few weeks ago—now you’re complaining about getting less?” And what would have really set me off would have been the implicit (or perhaps flat-out explicit) accusation of racism. I mean, seriously? I’m getting accused of racism from a group that wasn’t given the time of day by the Jews!
Fortunately, I was not one of the apostles. The apostles’ response is stunning: they take full ownership of the situation. Instead of denying, minimizing, or excusing the accusations, the apostles take responsibility. Recognizing they cannot do everything, they appoint seven to oversee the daily distribution of bread: “And the twelve summoned the full number of the disciples and said, “It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve tables. Therefore, brothers, pick out from among you seven men of good repute, full of the Spirit and of wisdom, whom we will appoint to this duty. But we will devote ourselves to prayer and to the ministry of the word.”” (Acts 6:2–4). Those seven all have Greek names, meaning they were likely all from the group of Greek-speaking Jews who leveled the accusation at the apostles. It’s stunning!
In the book Team of Rivals, historian Doris Kearns shares the story of Abraham Lincoln’s surprising recruitment of his cabinet—a group largely composed of his rivals from the campaign trail. This, it seems, is what the apostles have done. They’ve turned their critics into partners in gospel ministry.
Having taken ownership, slimmed down their role to what they were called to do (preach and pray), and deployed others into ministry, the result is that “the word of God continued to increase, and the number of the disciples multiplied greatly in Jerusalem, and a great many of the priests became obedient to the faith” (Acts 6:7).
A friend of mine with decades of ministry under his belt recently went through a season of reflection where he discovered four people to whom he felt he needed to apologize. In most of the situations (as is usually the case), those individuals also owed him an apology. But he didn’t concern himself with the latter. Instead, he spent time praying over and writing letters to each of the parties and then sought to get together with them to offer a heartfelt apology. Isn’t that remarkable? Anyone in ministry knows how many wounds we bear of those who have hurt us. Instead of nursing his wounds, he sought to apply balm to the wounds which he had caused. This is the gospel.
Jesus asked, “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?” (Matt. 7:3). When we look to Jesus, we allow his Spirit to reveal and convict us of our wrongs. When we take ownership of these wrongs through confession and repentance, we recognize how great our need is for the gospel. We revel that there is no condemnation and full forgiveness of these wrongs. This recognition of grace makes our need for everyone else to take ownership fade in the distance.
How I long to be like the apostles, taking full ownership even when there are reasons not to. How much greater would the gospel multiply today if we had a generation of Christians who didn’t deflect or defend against accusations of racism or hypocrisy but instead moved forward with gospel-glorifying ownership and solutions?
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Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash