by Ken Costa
At the same time, the news broadcasts were telling us of the activities of a French charity, Médecins Sans Frontières, which operates without borders in the world. Their clear calling was to meet medical needs wherever they occurred. The spokesperson was reporting on their work in Syria for people caught up on both sides of the civil war. He explained that there are no frontiers to human need, and the charity workers are where the needs are. These are truly works of the Spirit of God. His grace knows no borders when it comes to meeting the needs of humanity.
We see in the book of Acts that the Spirit of God breaks down people’s preconceptions and prejudices, their limitations and assumptions about what is or is not possible. The Spirit of God is here to break down borders, and he gives us the power to roam freely across them. The ultimate human borders of sin and death do not hold. The Spirit is at work, breaking every obstacle to living out our callings in the world.
NEW LIFE
All of us have preconceptions of how God should work in our lives. We need the Spirit to show us how these assumptions might not be the true understanding of his ways. In Acts 1, the last question the disciples asked of the risen Lord before his ascension was, “Will you at this time restore the kingdom to Israel?” (v. 6 ESV). In other words, “When are we going to have executive authority so we can throw the Romans out?”
In that one sentence, they showed that they misunderstood Jesus’ mission of the three previous years. They still longed for a new regime: they wanted to define a group of people living in a finite geographical area and sharing a particular privilege. They fixated on their expectations of a political regime change. They had not grasped the message of grace, which transcends borders.
Then, in the powerful response, the paradigm was broken. Their model was one of an enclosed group, but Jesus replied, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you” (v. 8). He now comes to establish a new dynamic in which his power is not restricted to one people but can be given to all people. Jesus continued, “and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (v. 8, emphasis added). He could not have made it clearer that there are no limits to the power and the reach of God in heaven to the peoples of earth.
Perhaps the most moving account of a barrier being broken is the exchange between Peter and Cornelius in Acts 10. We need to read this seminal exchange with the same openness to the Spirit that Peter had. There will be the same challenges in our time as there were for Peter.
Peter saw a vision filled with every imaginable unclean, non-kosher animal, which must have been anathema to every instinct he had. He heard a voice saying, “Get up, Peter. Kill and eat” (v. 13). He resisted and was rebuked with the words, “Do not call anything impure that God has made clean” (v. 15). This happened three times, and then the vision disappeared. Peter, despite being “inwardly perplexed” (v. 17 AMP), had heard the Spirit speak to him. In obedience, he followed. He mentioned the difficulty of his position and concluded, “But God has shown me that I should not call any person common or unclean” (v. 28 ESV). Peter then stood up and said, “I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right” (v. 34–35). This graphic encounter surely lies behind the great statement of the borderless Christ of Saint Paul: “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).
Here, at the start of the life of the church, is a clear and powerful example of how we are called to behave around people of different backgrounds, cultures, languages, religions, and lifestyles. This liberating story should guide us each day when we encounter the inevitable differences of the workplace. God created all the people we live and work with; he loves each one of them and calls us to respect them while remaining firm in our calling to serve him alone as we demonstrate his love to others.
At Pentecost, people started speaking in other languages (Acts 2:4). Languages are closed universes except to those who understand. To the outsider, any foreign language is gibberish. But in one act, the Spirit broke linguistic borders, and people spoke to and were understood by others in their own tongues.
Those around them were perplexed: “How is it that we hear, each of us in his own native language? Parthians and Medes and Elamites and residents of Mesopotamia . . . we hear them telling in our own tongues the mighty works of God” (vv. 8–11 ESV). The great genius of Pentecost was that they could understand the truth that was being spoken in the languages with which they were most familiar.
This moment at Pentecost was a supernatural breaking of usual linguistic borders—and a highly unusual event. However, the Spirit can still help us today to break through the barriers of language and culture to reach others with a sensitivity and discernment born of God. If we are truly to fulfill our callings in the world—both generally, to make the good news of Jesus known, and individually, to pursue his calling for our own lives—then we need to be able to reach people in their vernaculars. We need Spirit-inspired words, not dry and dusty “religious” language. Our words must recognize our common humanity to find intimacy and shared understanding with people from all walks of life.
This was made clear to me when I recently took a non-Christian friend to an evangelistic talk. In truth, the talk didn’t do much for me, and I left feeling disheartened that my efforts to share the gospel seemed to have been wasted. But when I asked my friend how he had found it, he was buzzing with excitement about what he had just heard! I pushed him to find out why he had liked the speaker so much: “Because he spoke my language,” my friend replied.
As Paul said in his letter to the Corinthians, “I have become all things to all people so that by all possible means I might save some” (1 Corinthians 9:22). This is a great work of the Spirit—to help us engage across cultural and linguistic borders. But it also requires some effort on our part to meet people where they are and not simply where we would like them to be.
This new paradigm of the Spirit also brings with it a new proprietary regime. The old borders of property, ownership, and competition have been broken. In Acts 4, we learn that the early Christians held their property in common (v. 32). In their very nature, proprietary rights are restrictive, personal, and for the benefit of the owner. And it is right that this should be so. But the Spirit broke these borders in order to allow radical common sharing to the point that “there was not a needy person among them” (v. 34 ESV). I am always inspired by those many Christians who open the doors of their homes and share their time with the lost, the needy, and the poor. As Christians, we should always be open to sharing our food, our shelters, or our financial resources with others.
I remember the wife of a pastor telling me that, growing up, she always used to have tea after school with her close friend, whose family was Christian. Their door was always open to her; they made her so welcome in their home. She never heard them once preach the gospel, but she recognizes her gradual conversion to Christ during that season of spending time in her friend’s home.
A wise Christian told me that the best test to shift a mind-set from owning to sharing was “use it or lose it.” If you have an asset, share it, or the blessing will simply become a burden.
A certain kind of freedom comes from sharing. The early followers of Jesus did not enforce a communist regime whereby everything was owned and controlled centrally. The Spirit’s call is not dictatorial but discretionary. He leaves it to us how we deal with our assets, but we will always be called to share what we have.
The Spirit of God does not only break down the human barriers of culture and language, however. In his power, the Spirit of God is also able to break the borders between the normal and the supernatural, traversing the physical laws of nature. At Pentecost, the physical laws were broken. There was a “mighty rushing wind” (Acts 2:2 ESV) and “tongues of fire that separated and came to rest on each of them” (v. 3). The Holy
Spirit, who heralds the empowering presence of the Father, can do so without physical constraint. If nothing else, this event is a reminder that God is supernatural and sovereign and can act as he will, not just within the limitations of our own worldviews and expectations.
So when Peter stooped to talk to a beggar in Acts 3, he knew that physical restrictions no longer limited the work of the Spirit. With a new authority, Peter said, “‘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” (vv. 6–8). Today, the same Holy Spirit still empowers us to see the proclamation of the word accompanied by signs and wonders.
BREAKING FREE
God’s Spirit also breaks down the borders that lie within us. Our life callings are not confined to preset outcomes. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom” (2 Corinthians 3:17). Freedom comes from breaking down the barriers within our own lives: our personal histories, our childhood traumas, our lack of forgiveness, our self-limitations and misunderstandings. I think of the phrase from the Nigerian poet Ben Okri, who spoke of “the bullies that our pasts have become.”2 Many of us know that sense of being trapped in a distressing pattern of shame we seem unable to break. The tragedy is that these memories become real barriers to fulfilling our true callings. But by his grace, the Spirit of God breaks these patterns and enables us to live lives that are filled with the love of Jesus Christ—and so we are empowered and set free to live out our callings more effectively.
God longs for us to live in wide-open spaces unshackled by inhibitions from the past.
We remember again Paul’s words: “Your lives aren’t small, but you’re living them in a small way.” We remember his invitation: “Open up your lives. Live openly and expansively!” (2 Corinthians 6:11–13 THE MESSAGE). This is what we aspire to.
The problem for so many of us is how to break out of a pattern of conformity. I recall a colleague who had grown up with the expectations from his parents that he would be a banker; his life had been predicated on the fact that banking would be his calling. We worked together for some time before it became clear that he would not make it. And yet he could hardly face family and friends, as the assumption was that he was meant for finance. Sadly, those who had these views of him never actually asked him what his real passion in life was. If they had, they would have known that he was devoted to wildlife conservation. Others’ words and expectations can be damaging, but the Spirit of God has the power to enter the darkest shadows of our souls, where these words lurk, and shine his light onto them, defusing their power.
Finally, my colleague broke through the wall and went to spend three years working with rhinos in Tanzania, where he was blissfully happy. Since then, he has never looked back, and the barriers that held him back, once broken, released him to a career in wildlife management, where his financial skills have actually been put to good use.
I think of the hesitant entrepreneur, Will, who came to see me wanting to start a new business. The comfort of his regularly paid job was assuring, but he aspired to more. It was hard to break through the psychological and practical barriers that held him back: the monthly income, the regular hours, the familiar faces, the established working environment. These obstacles were not without their merit, but they were borders the Spirit wanted him to break.
We prayed and we talked and, above all, we tried to imagine the advantages of breaking out of conformity to a certain pattern—the pattern of life in a large, structured company. Will started to wonder if it was in fact more “him” to be entrepreneurial, to break out of corporate life. But he still had nagging questions. So I told him a story from my own life about a rhino named Tsholompe.
Tsholompe was a young calf that lived in a large, fenced wilderness area in South Africa. From a young age, he was a difficult and naughty calf who always tried to break through the fences. After every attempt, a helicopter had to be dispatched, at serious expense, with a trained vet who would dart Tsholompe with a tranquilizer and bring him back to his own area. The fence had to be repaired and the ever-patient neighbor assuaged with a libation of one sort or another. There was much discussion at the broken fence on how to deal with the nonconforming rhino.
Tsholompe’s name in the African dialect is translated as “one who causes grief to his parents”—he certainly did to his mother! White rhino calves run behind their mothers, as opposed to black rhino calves, who run in front. His mother clocked him and was constantly giving a backward look at the ever-playful but somewhat uncontrollable Tsholompe.
Tsholompe was born wild. He wanted to roam freely, and he did not accept the imposed borders of the land registry. Whenever he tried an escape, it was always greeted with shaking of heads by the African staff muttering, “Tsholompe does not like to be hemmed in.”
Sadly, the story doesn’t have a happy ending. Tsholompe lived many happy years in total disobedience, until one evening he fell over during one of his breakouts. Unable to right himself, he was caught in a freezing vlei, an African swamp. Every effort to revive him with heat and blankets, and even intravenous fluids, failed.
There is a bit of Tsholompe within all of us. Not that we are meant to live lives of lawlessness, riding roughshod over social boundaries as Tsholompe so often did, but that there is something within us that yearns for the freedom God promises. We are not meant to be hemmed in. We are called to roam freely without the borders of social or peer pressure. Jesus kept the law but broke the rules—a good model for us.
Tsholompe’s story seemed to work for Will. He took the risk and started a media business with a friend. The Spirit of God emboldened them and has led them in new directions they could not have imagined while they were living within the structures of their previous jobs.
In many ways, the story of Tsholompe is a parable for all of us. So often we try to conform to patterns that were never intended to be ours. There are times when we just want to break loose. Often these are moments inspired by the Spirit, encouraging the breaking down of previously inhibiting ways of thinking and acting. The Holy Spirit transforms us by the renewing of our minds and we, like Will, see his good, pleasing, and perfect will.
THE CLOTHING OF THE SPIRIT
What does all this mean for our callings?
Everything.
It is the Spirit who makes our callings known, who gives us confidence, and who empowers us to break down the barriers that impede our way. Apart from the Spirit, our lives remain empty.
I have been deeply challenged by the life of Gideon. He grew from a very low point—defensive and lacking in self-esteem—to someone who recognized God’s empowering call on his life, broke out of his defensive mentality, and overcame the seemingly impregnable barriers that he faced.
We find the story of Gideon in Judges 6. The setting is a familiar one. The Israelites had turned from the Lord and from his protection only to find themselves confronted by enemies far greater and stronger than they were. This time the nomadic tribes of Midian were their oppressors. For years, the Midianites had terrorized the people of Israel to such an extent that they had retreated to caves, clefts, and gated communities. The Israelites tried to carry on with their lives—they tilled fields, planted crops, and watered green shoots—but whenever the harvest came, the Midianites descended like a swarm of locusts to attack and steal the fruit of the Israelites’ labors.
Into this defensive scene came Gideon, in verse 11, threshing wheat in a winepress. Through the years of oppression, Gideon tried to eke out an existence. That he was threshing in a winepress is deeply significant. Threshing was normally done on a hilltop, where the wind can blow the chaff away from the wheat. A winepress, by contrast, was small and enclosed. Gideon was hiding away indoors, away from the sight of the Midianites, who were bent on stealing whatever they saw. He was doing the right thing but in the wrong place.
While Gideon was at work, hiding awa
y and minding his own business, afraid and alone, the Lord called out to him. (It’s worth remembering that God speaks to us even at work!)
“The LORD is with you, mighty warrior” (v. 12).
The salutation of the angel of the Lord was as ironic as it was brutal. “Mighty warrior” is in fact the English translation of Gideon’s Hebrew name, but at that moment Gideon had probably never felt less like a mighty warrior in all his life. He had been driven back by the relentless pursuit of the Midianites. Years of repressed anger welled up within him. I suspect that he was hurt deeply by the reminder of his name. He probably saw himself as a wimp and not a warrior.
“If the LORD is with us, why has all this happened to us? Where are all his wonders that our ancestors told us about when they said, ‘Did not the LORD bring us up out of Egypt?’ But now the LORD has abandoned us and given us into the hand of Midian” (v. 13).
Gideon was afraid and angry. Like a cornered animal, he lashed out, venting his frustration and anger at the apparent emptiness of God’s promises. But the angel’s words were reassuring. God was with him. God was sending him and would go with him.
To this reassurance, Gideon protested: “How can I save Israel? My clan is the weakest in Manasseh, and I am the least in my family” (v. 15). But the Lord insisted. “I will be with you” (v. 16).
In that short exchange Gideon realized he was loved. God had recognized him, and there can be no greater sign of love than being recognized for who we are. Gideon was known. The Lord called him by name—not only by his given name but by the name of the person that he was going to become. God has great interest not just in who we are now but in who we will become by his Spirit. And Gideon was called. He was given the task of delivering the nation from the ravages of the Midianites.