“The Scattered Ones” (A Sermon on Acts 8:4-8)
- matthewheisler
- Feb 2
- 9 min read
Acts 8:4-8 (NRSV)
“Now those who were scattered went from place to place, proclaiming the word. Philip went down to the city of Samaria and proclaimed the Messiah to them. The crowds with one accord listened eagerly to what was said by Philip, hearing and seeing the signs that he did, for unclean spirits, crying with loud shrieks, came out of many who were possessed; and many others who were paralyzed or lame were cured. So there was great joy in that city.”
(If you’d prefer to watch the sermon, there is an embedded YouTube video at the bottom of this post)
Introduction
We have been in a series called Koinonia, the Inside-Out Kingdom: Hospitality when you’re not the host. Last week, Pastor Graig shared with us from Acts 3:1-10 when the apostles Peter and John heal a crippled beggar. The beggar asked for money, yet the apostles gave him something much greater: a restored body. All of this began with Peter intently looking at the man asking for help. Pastor Graig encouraged us to, like Peter, be listening and paying attention to the promptings of God that can come to us at any time.
Persecution of the Early Church
Today, we are back in the book of Acts, a bit further along in the story of the early church. The church has grown quickly, with thousands being added to their numbers. However, it’s not all good news. There’s a moment in the book of Acts that we often rush past because it’s painful, and because it disrupts the triumphant momentum of the early church. It’s the moment in Acts 7 when Stephen—full of grace, full of power, full of the Spirit—is dragged outside the city and executed by a mob who believe they are defending righteousness. And standing there, watching over the coats, giving approval to the execution, is a man named Saul. This is the man who becomes Paul later in the story, and would go on to write half of the New Testament.
Acts tells us that after Stephen’s death, “a severe persecution broke out against the church in Jerusalem, and all except the original apostles were scattered throughout the countryside of Judea and Samaria.” Acts 8:3 tells us, “Saul was ravaging the church by entering house after house; dragging off both men and women, he committed them to prison.”
Weaponized Law and Order
It’s important to name this tension and violence in the book of Acts, because the Bible is not naïve about what systems and people can do when they are afraid or when they feel certain about their own righteousness. The Bible is not naïve about what happens when people in power decide that certain communities are a threat. The Bible is not naïve about how quickly “law and order” can become a weapon used against the vulnerable.
And so the early Christians—these brand‑new believers, these people who had just discovered the joy of resurrection—are suddenly scattered. Families uprooted. Communities torn apart. People forced to flee the very city where the Spirit had been poured out only a few chapters earlier.
And, to be honest with you, I can’t read that without thinking about the families in our own country who have been scattered by the actions of ICE. Parents separated from children. Communities like Minneapolis living in fear. People who fled war to get to the United States now forced to leave homes, jobs, schools, and neighborhoods because it’s been decided that their presence is a threat. Immigration is complicated, but human dignity is not.
And, I’m not making a political argument here — I know full well that law enforcement is important and that immigration policy in our country needs reform. But, I am naming a human reality. A biblical reality. A reality the early church knew all too well.
Because when Acts says the believers were “scattered,” it’s not just describing geography. It’s describing trauma, dislocation, and disruption. It’s describing the tearing of the social fabric. It’s describing what happens when the powerful decide to exert their will on the vulnerable.
The Scattered Become Messengers
And yet—this is the astonishing part—Acts refuses to let the story end there.
The text says, “Those who were scattered went from place to place, proclaiming the word.” Philip goes down to Samaria—which, if you remember, was a place and a people that the Jews looked down on.
The famous parable that Jesus taught - the one about the “Good Samaritan” - that was very controversial because to the average Jew living in Jerusalem, a “good Samaritan” was an oxymoron.
Yet, Philip goes to this enemy territory—and begins to preach. And what happens? The people listen. The sick are healed. The oppressed are set free. And the city is filled with great joy.
It’s absurd. It’s nonsensical. It’s almost irresponsible. How can people who have lost so much be the ones who bring joy? How can the dispossessed be the ones who proclaim good news? How can the scattered be the ones who build community?
But that is exactly what Acts insists on. The ones who have been pushed to the margins become the ones who reveal the heart of God. The ones who have been uprooted become the ones who plant seeds of hope. The ones who have been harmed become the ones who heal.
Joy in the Midst of Displacement
And if you look closely, you’ll notice something:
The joy doesn’t come after the injustice is resolved.
The joy comes in the middle of it.
The joy comes while the believers are still displaced, while Saul is still breathing threats, while the systems are still violent, and while the world is still dangerous.
Because the joy isn’t rooted in the circumstances imposed by the powerful.
It’s rooted in God. It’s rooted in the Holy Spirit. It’s rooted in the reality that no amount of scattering can undo the presence of Immanuel - Christ with us.
Part of the message of Acts that we can miss if we don’t read carefully is that it is fulfilling ancient promises made by God. That Israel, through a special Messiah, would become God’s light to the nations. In the story of Acts we see this happening as the good news of Jesus Christ is scattered like seeds from Jerusalem to Samaria. The next story we read starting in verse 26 is Philip preaching to an Ethiopian eunuch, a sexual minority and first fully Gentile convert we read about. Someone who would have been excluded from temple worship now becomes a bearer of the gospel.
The amazing thing is that, even amidst disruption, the scattered ones are preaching the good news. The Spirit is still on the move.
The Spirit can turn refugees into evangelists, and trauma into testimony. The Spirit can turn scattered people into seeds of new creation.
And when that happens—when the scattered ones discover that God is with them even in the places they did not choose—they begin to live in ways that make no sense to the world.
They extend generosity in the midst of loss.
They build community in the midst of disruption.
They do right by their neighbors in the midst of injustice.
They refuse to let fear have the final word.
They refuse to let violence define their identity.
They refuse to let the world tell them who they are.
Because they know—deep in their bones—that their true home is in God.
And when your home is in God, you can carry it with you wherever you go.
When your home is in God, you can be scattered without being lost.
When your home is in God, you can be displaced without being destroyed.
When your home is in God, you can be pushed to the margins and still radiate joy.
And that joy is not naïve.
It is not shallow.
It is not escapist.
It is resistant and defiant, and refuses to let the forces of death have the last word.
The early Christians didn’t preach because they were safe.
They preached because they were loved.
They preached because they had discovered a God who goes with them into every exile, every border crossing, every place of fear.
And that is still true today.
Wherever people are scattered—God is there.
Wherever families are torn apart—God is there.
Wherever communities are living in fear—God is there.
Wherever the vulnerable are targeted—God is there.
And God is not passive.
God is not neutral.
God is not indifferent.
God is the one who gathers the outcast, lifts up the lowly, hears the cries of the oppressed, and who turns scattered people into bearers of good news.
Israel’s Repeated Displacement
And this is not a new thing. Think of the stories of Israel and how frequent the theme of displacement is:
In Genesis 12, Abraham is sent away from his home country to a place he doesn’t know, trusting God in the uncertainty
Joseph is torn from his family and sold into slavery in Egypt. Later, his family is forced by famine to move from their home as well. This sets up the salvation of Egypt through Joseph’s prophecy.
In Exodus, the Hebrew people are “scattered” from Egypt into the wilderness. God forms them into a covenant community while they are still displaced.
Then, of course, there are the Assyrian and Babylonian exiles, where Israel is scattered again, and must learn how to follow God away from their Temple and away from their land.
So what does all this mean for us?
It means that when we see people being scattered in our own time—immigrant families, asylum seekers, refugees, communities living under threat—we do not look away. We do not shrug. We do not say, “That’s just the way things are.”
We remember Acts 8.
We remember Stephen.
We remember the early church.
We remember that God is found among the scattered.
James and My Transformation
Years ago, I worked at a group home with at-risk teens who had gotten in trouble with the law. For many of them, this was their “last stop” before going to juvenile detention or prison. It was a very stressful job. I was screamed at, threatened, pushed into walls, had to break up fights. Basically, it was like youth group. It was rough.
Then, one night after all the teens had gone to bed, one of the other specialists invited me to read through some of the case files, which was available to us as employees. I picked up the binder of James, who had called me “f*** face” for the past few hours before bedtime.
As I flipped through the pages of court documents, psychological diagnoses, and police reports, I learned he had lived in a car with his mother since he was an infant. I learned that he had been assaulted at a young age by people on the streets. I learned that he carried a heart full of pain. And, I also learned about his deep faith. One part of the binder had journal pages full of prayers he had written. And, something shifted in me. His story helped me put all the pieces of his behavior into place. Of course, he didn’t trust me. Of course, he was aggressive toward me. Look at what life had handed him!
And, I began to be weirdly inspired by this kid who I could not stand before. He was managing to hold onto faith even though he had experienced so much loss, abuse, and disruption. And, I started to take a different posture in general, I stopped judging people as harshly. I started to begin from the assumption that everyone has a story and a reason they are the way they are. I started to think, “behavior is communication.” And, I really started to listen to folks like James who had been through the ringer, had really suffered, and who was fighting to come out the other side.
An Ethic of Hospitality and Neighborliness
If we listen closely to the words of Jesus, we will start to see an ethic of hospitality, an ethic of neighborliness as the primary way we should greet our world. “Love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself,” Jesus says plainly in Luke 10.
I think today this means:
We extend generosity in the midst of loss.
We build community in the midst of disruption.
We do right by our neighbors in the midst of injustice.
We refuse to let fear dictate our compassion.
We refuse to let violence define our imagination.
We refuse to let the world tell us who is worthy of love.
And, if we’re really paying attention, we’ll start to see the scattered ones around us and we’ll begin to see what the kingdom of God looks like.
A kingdom where joy erupts in unlikely places.
A kingdom where healing breaks out in wounded communities.
A kingdom where the last become first.
A kingdom where the displaced become prophets.
A kingdom where the whole city—every city—can be filled with joy.
So take a breath with me.
May we be such people.
May we stand with such people.
May we learn from such people.
And may the Spirit fill us with the same ridiculous, nonsensical, world‑defying joy that filled the scattered believers in Acts.
Amen.
Benediction:
May the God who walks with the scattered
walk with you.
May the Christ who brings joy into broken places
bring joy into your life.
May the Spirit who turns strangers into neighbors
turn you into a bearer of good news.
Go in courage.
Go in compassion.
Go in joy.
Amen.
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