A pastor used to say that “hard words make soft people,” and then he’d add the corollary that “soft words make hard people.” His point, if I understand him correctly, was that preachers who don’t preach strongly against sin leave people judgmental and indifferent to grace–the gospel is for someone else, those more sinful than me. But when you preach hard against sin, people become tender, ready to receive the gospel and live in light of it—the gospel is for me, and I’m so thankful for Jesus.

The preacher who used to say this—and maybe he still does—seemed to apply his truism to the extreme, with every sermon preached in all caps. I’m not sure this kind of “strong” preaching had the desired effect. When everything is strong, nothing is strong.

I don’t know how you rank “boldness” or “hardness,” but I do know that over the last month several people at church have told me they appreciated the strong words in my preaching aimed at contemporary issues. I’m thankful for the feedback because, if I’m candid, strong preaching on contemporary issues is not how most people would characterize my preaching most weeks. And a healthy diet of hard words, I believe, does make for soft hearts.

Each year on my blog I share a sermon or two. For the post this week, I decided to share the one from last Sunday.

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“A Name That Lives in Infamy,” a sermon from Acts 8:9–25

Benjamin Vrbicek
Community Evangelical Free Church on June 14, 2020

I’ve told you before about my family’s love for the show Biggest Loser, where contestants compete to lose weight. The participants on the show are not so much trying to look good in their swimsuits come summertime, as they are, it seems, fighting for their lives.

Because the show has run so many seasons, a feature of the show many people enjoy is the “where are they now” segments. These can be either wonderful or deflating. The producers string together a montage of old footage of a contestant, often a winner of the show, going from overweight to thin and all the work they did to drop the pounds. Then the producers cut to the present, footage of the former contestant now going about everyday life. And they either tend to be eating subway and drinking green smoothies or, instead, eating double cheeseburgers or drinking big gulps.

I mention this because, in this passage, we meet a man named Simon. He seems to make a profession of faith. He’s even baptized. But then his Christian life appears to hit some bumps. Or maybe we wouldn’t call them bumps so much as wrapping his car around a telephone pole. And I’ll tell you right now that we do not have footage of Simon years after these events—some footage of “where is Simon now.” But this passage and church history do offer us some clues, which I’ll mention at the end.

What I want to do now is go back through the passage, three chunks at a time. A quick word of caution before we do so. Please don’t treat this as merely academic. The details are different, but the same dynamics in this passage are on display before us in the news and in the life of our own local church. Simon’s story is an old story. But it’s also a contemporary story, showing us what happens when we want the power of God without a change of heart.

I’ll read vv. 9–13 again.

But there was a man named Simon, who had previously practiced magic in the city and amazed the people of Samaria, saying that he himself was somebody great. They all paid attention to him, from the least to the greatest, saying, “This man is the power of God that is called Great.” And they paid attention to him because for a long time he had amazed them with his magic. But when they believed Philip as he preached good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized, both men and women. Even Simon himself believed, and after being baptized he continued with Philip. And seeing signs and great miracles performed, he was amazed. (vv. 9–13)

When we hear of “magic,” we probably think of someone like David Blaine, whose magic can come across as a little dark. But when we think of magicians more generally, the image is often playful and quirky—card tricks and sleight of hand. That’s not what this was. When you read about Simon, think more witch and sorcerer and dark spirits. The people were amazed at his power and likely also afraid of it. We read that he first called himself great (v. 9), and then that the people called him great (v. 10). It must have delighted Simon’s heart to have the praise he whispered about himself boomerang back to him louder on social media.

But what happened to Simon? Apparently, Simon is converted. He listens to Philip’s preaching about sin. Simon had lied and deceived others. He’d loved the praise of his own name more than God’s. And he learns that if God were to judge him based on perfect holiness, he’d justly be condemned to hell. And then he hears about Jesus, how a perfect God-man came and lived and died. And when Jesus died, he died in the place of sinners. Jesus took the punishment for sin that Simon deserved. And he heard that the savior rose and ascended to heaven, and he’s coming again, and in the meantime, the kingdom of God was here and expanding. And Simon believed that. We read in v. 13 that the one who amazed others is now himself amazed by the gospel. Simon even follows Philip around because, it seems, he wants to walk in the footsteps of Christian discipleship.

Or does he? Let’s read vv. 14–19.

Now when the apostles at Jerusalem heard that Samaria had received the word of God, they sent to them Peter and John, who came down and prayed for them that they might receive the Holy Spirit, for he had not yet fallen on any of them, but they had only been baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. Then they laid their hands on them and they received the Holy Spirit. Now when Simon saw that the Spirit was given through the laying on of the apostles’ hands, he offered them money, saying, “Give me this power also, so that anyone on whom I lay my hands may receive the Holy Spirit.” (vv. 14–19)

Several things to talk about here. It’s a side issue, so I won’t give it much attention now. But perhaps you wonder why the external manifestation of the Spirit of God seems to fall upon the new Christians after conversion, rather than at conversion. In the book of Acts, the Spirit seems to fall at different times, so no precise takeaway should be drawn from a single instance. The best way to understand this delay is as a blessing that the Spirit delayed because these Samaritan Christians, who were already suspect for being Samaritans, would have remained suspect unless the Apostles saw their conversion for themselves. That’s why, I think, the Spirit delayed. It’s not the ordinary practice we should expect today.

But let’s keep our focus on Simon, where Luke seems to point his camera, so to speak. First, he was amazed by Philip, who was doing the signs and wonders we read about vv. 6–7. He becomes a Christian, or so it seems. But when Peter and John show up, the super impressive CEOs of this new upstart—as Simon might have seen them—and they have even more power. Simon wants that power too, offering to buy it from them.

How are we to view his gesture? Maybe Simon’s a new convert, and his old profession exchanged power and favor for money, so perhaps Simon means well by it. Besides, wouldn’t it be nice to have such a celebrity on Team Jesus? Everybody in Samaria knew this guy, from the least to the greatest. Think about how the gospel would spread with a celebrity like him speaking for God! Let’s not fuss about whether he’s genuinely converted or not. Stop asking for the fruit of Christian character to grow out of the soil of Christian conversion before one rises to Christian leadership. Enough with the slow playing already.

God gives Peter the eyes to see his offer to buy the power of the Spirit for what it really is. Look again at vv. 20–24.

But Peter said to him, “May your silver perish with you, because you thought you could obtain the gift of God with money! You have neither part nor lot in this matter, for your heart is not right before God. Repent, therefore, of this wickedness of yours, and pray to the Lord that, if possible, the intent of your heart may be forgiven you. For I see that you are in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity.” And Simon answered, “Pray for me to the Lord, that nothing of what you have said may come upon me.” (vv. 20–24)

Several commentators point out that Peter essentially says, “You and your money can go to hell” (Merida and Willimon). Luke recounts this story to show us that wanting the blessings that come with Christianity can be very different than wanting to be a Christian. I’ll say it again. Luke recounts this story to show us that wanting the blessings that come with Christianity can be very different than wanting to be a Christian.

And we wonder which category Simon is in. Did Simon want to be a Christian, as it seemed above? We read that he believed and was baptized. Or does he just want power—first Philip was powerful, but then John and Peter are even more powerful. He had power as a magician, but now Christianity seems like a way to have even more power, and Simon simply uses Christianity to get what he already wanted out of life. Christianity is nothing more than a turbo button for the life he already wanted.

Peter says, “For I see that you are in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity” (v. 23). That word bond means slavery or chains. If we had asked Simon if when he started down this little magic path of his if he thought it would lead him to such dark slavery, he never would have imagined he’d get here. But that’s what sin does. Sin wants to push further than you ever imagined.

Peter sees Simon as a false convert, at least so far. This is why Peter is firm with him. Peter is firm because he loves Simon. Simon is drunk with power and wants to be perceived as great. Back in chapter 5 of Acts, this same lust for perception cost two people their lives. And Peter was there. He doesn’t want that for Simon, which is why he pleads with Simon to pray to God and seek forgiveness.

If you look back up at vv. 4, 5, and 12, something interesting comes to the surface. Listen to the phrases used: “preaching the word” (v. 4), “proclaimed to them the Christ” (v. 5), and “they believed Philip as he preached good news about the kingdom of God and the name of Jesus Christ, they were baptized” (v. 12). Preaching. Word. Proclaiming. Jesus. Belief. (More) Preaching. Good news. Kingdom of God. Name of Jesus. Baptism.

When Simon tries to get the Spirit’s power, what has he leapt over? He’s leapt over the content of Christianity, the very substance that brings the blessings of Christianity: Preaching. Word. Proclaiming. Jesus. Belief. (More) Preaching. Good news. Kingdom of God. Name of Jesus. Baptism.

This is why, at the start of the sermon, I mentioned that while this story is an ancient story, it is also a contemporary story. It’s then, and it’s now. Luke is cautioning us to not treat the grace of God as something that merely gives us what we want.

It’s easy, perhaps, to see the way some politician or self-help guru might use the trappings of Christianity for his or her personal gain. But it’s not just politicians who are known for this. When you mention the name evangelical, which is in the name of our church denomination, people see it as a synonym for hunger for power. How did that happen?

Are there ways Peter could be speaking to us? Maybe you have become a Christian only because Christianity gives friendships and companionship. Or maybe it gives you emotional support or joyful times of singing worship music. Maybe knowing truth and Bible verses gives you a certain authority on when you post on Facebook. Those things might not be wrong, but they aren’t the core of Christianity, which is love from God that leads to life change.

I titled the sermon “A Name that Lives in Infamy.” Perhaps that’s overdone a bit. Maybe not. It’s a reference to the day of Pearl Harbor that lives in infamy. I said we don’t know what happens to Simon; we don’t have “where is he now” footage. But the passage doesn’t end very hopeful. And when some of the early church fathers preached against certain heresies, they linked it back to Simon, another bad sign.

And then there is the name. The word “simony” was coined to describe the practice of buying leadership roles within the church. I mentioned that to Ben Bechtel, and he said, “Yeah it was, I read all about it in my church history class last semester. Simony was a huge problem in the Middle Ages,” he said. So, Simon has a name that lives in infamy.

Except, perhaps, for one word, the word “previously” in v. 9. Maybe when Luke interviewed Simon to get this story, he had, after taking Peter’s rebuke to heart, changed.

But today, I’m less concerned about him, and far more interested in you. Have you become more interested in the blessings that come from God than the blessing of knowing God himself? Not everyone talking about reopening churches cares about God and gathering with his people—some just want to make a political statement. Have you become more interested in the blessings that come from God than the blessing of knowing God himself?

If so, there’s hope. Look at the last verse in the passage.

Now when they had testified and spoken the word of the Lord, they returned to Jerusalem, preaching the gospel to many villages of the Samaritans. (v. 25)

This verse is fascinating because when the disciples went through Samaria with Jesus in the gospel of Luke, the disciples wanted to call down fire on Samaria (Luke 9:51–56). Now, they call down the blessings of  God in the gospel of Jesus.

Jesus can really change people. There was hope for Simon, and there is hope for us. But if you are to change, you need to hear the harsh words of Peter first. How is this for us, not them? How is this for me, not you?

I don’t know what ways you feel in the bond of iniquity. Perhaps sins you never expected would be so controlling now overrun your life. If so, I say what to you what Peter said to Simon: repent and your sins will be forgiven.

* Photo by Nicolas Hoizey on Unsplash