Sabbath Day Thoughts — “With Glad and Generous Hearts” Acts 2:42-47

She was just so darned cute. Strawberry-blonde curls, big blue eyes in a rounded heart-shaped face, a smattering of freckles strewn across her cheeks—what my Grandmommie referred to as the “Angel’s Kisses.” Strangers stopped in the grocery to pinch her cheeks. The batting of those big blue eyes earned her sips of other’s drinks or bites of their snacks. You know the kind of kid I am talking about. Irresistible!

We shared a room for years during which time I was the Felix to her Oscar. I lined my toys up in careful rows while hers were scattered about in joyful chaos. Science experiments of old food and medicine cabinet concoctions moldered beneath her bed while my floor might harbor a lonely dust bunny. My crayons were never broken and always carefully packed away in their original box after coloring. Her crayons were often where she left them: scattered across the table, kicked beneath the radiator, broken to bits and added to those aforementioned science experiments. My clothes were folded and tucked away in drawers. Hers lingered in wrinkled piles on the floor until our mother insisted that they go in the hamper where they belonged.

We resolved our differences by angling an imaginary line down the center of the room. Her side was a marvel of mayhem. My side was proto-Presbyterian—everything decent and in order. I silently rejoiced when our family moved to a larger home when I was nine and I got my own room that doubled as the guestroom. It was easier to share with visiting kin than it was with my sister. But even in my new space there were signs of little fingers constantly touching my stuff. Clothes with mysterious stains, toys askew, doors ajar. Sharing is not easy.

Our reading from the Acts of the Apostles reveals radical acts of generosity and sharing in the early church. It wasn’t long after Pentecost. God had poured out the Holy Spirit upon timid disciples, and before you could say lickety-split, they were preaching to complete strangers in ways that changed minds and prompted belief. That Pentecost Spirit must have also inspired their life in community: warm fellowship, homes opened for bountiful meals, dedicated times of prayer in the Temple, and radical sharing—possessions sold and proceeds distributed for the good of all. It was a community so remarkable, so appealing, that everyone wanted a piece of that. Day by day, the Lord added to their number.

It didn’t stop there, either. If we keep reading Acts, we learn about the Cypriot rabbi Barnabas, Paul’s friend. He saw the need in Jerusalem and sold everything he owned—that’s right everything—and gave it to the apostles. Then there was Lydia, the first Greek to accept the gospel. No sooner had she been baptized than she insisted that Paul and his friends stay with her in Philippi, a long friendship that would help fund much of Paul’s outreach to the Gentiles. And then Paul himself, when he learned that there was a famine in Jerusalem, barnstormed through his Gentile churches seeking financial gifts to relieve the pressing hunger of their Jewish Christian kin. That’s a lot of sharing.

According to Bible scholar and historian Rita Halteman Finger, for the past 500 years, since the Reformation, western Christians have played down the nature of the early Christian community and the importance of sharing. It’s been argued that the community described in Acts is symbolic and idealized. They say these practices were likely just short-lived and limited. It’s really not practical in today’s context or with today’s people. After all, we are a sinful lot, prone to self-interest. We may want this sort of community, but let’s get real. It’s pretty pie in the sky. Matthew Skinner, who teaches at Luther Seminary, uncomfortably points out that it is tempting for us to write off today’s scripture reading, because if we take it seriously, then it will cost us, and we are not sure we want to pay that price.

In some ways, Matt Skinner is right. Unbridled generosity, heartfelt sharing, isn’t easy. Let’s face it, every dollar in the offering plate is a dollar not squirreled way in our 401k or IRA for our retirement. Sure, we want to help the poor, but we also want to make sure our generosity is merited and well-spent. Is the recipient someone who will turn their life around and pay it forward to another? Is this someone who is truly deserving, who works hard but has more month than money? Or, maybe we feel that we have worked hard for what we have and others can do what we did—they can pull themselves up by their own bootstraps, too. Or, maybe we are burned out on giving in a world where the enormity of need is simply overwhelming.

We long for the beloved community. We want to live with glad and generous hearts. But some days, it is a whole lot easier to draw an imaginary line down the center of the room. Some days, it is easier to look the other way or close our eyes to our neighbor’s need, trusting that someone else will step up. Some days, it is easier to say, “America first,” gut our support of USAID, and shrug off the consequences for our global neighbors, from closure of medical clinics, to the end of life-saving immunizations and medications, to the spread of AIDS and tuberculosis. We long for the beloved community, but sharing is hard. Help us, Jesus.

Maybe that early Christian community in the Acts of the Apostles can help us, too. Those glad and generous hearts were nurtured in a fellowship that devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching, to being together, to the breaking of bread, and to the prayers. They listened to stories of the life that the apostles shared with Jesus. They meditated upon the Lord’s Sermon on the Mount, and the parables, and the great commandment to love God and neighbor. They shared favorite recipes and laughed around the table. They watched one another’s children and celebrated the little joys—first tooth, first steps, first words. They broke the bread and lifted the cup, remembering how Jesus had done this in the Last Supper. They prayed hard, going to the Temple at the appointed times, praying for one another’s concerns, and listening for the leading of the Holy Spirit.

In that fertile mix of fellowship and spirituality, they began to change. They considered the limitless love of God for them and saw that all they had and all they were was God’s gracious gift. They pondered the generous love of Jesus, who welcomed strangers, taught unlikely disciples, included women, blessed children, forgave sinners, and poured out his very life to reconcile them to God and one another. As they came to understand God’s limitless love for them, a love that was revealed so completely in Jesus, their hearts softened. Their hands opened. They lived with glad and generous hearts.

So perhaps we can prove wrong that 500-year history of biblical interpretation that argues that the beloved community of the Acts of the Apostles is just an idealized, pie-in-the-sky, rose-colored-glasses kind of place. Perhaps we can prove that the beloved community is real and here and now. We can begin by devoting ourselves to the apostles’ teachings—feasting on the Word in worship and through the weekly Bible Study. We can forge fellowship with shared meals and shared lives, whether we are enjoying coffee hour hospitality or digging into the best potluck in town on Committee Night, whether we are cooking up a hot dish for someone laid up with illness or knitting and crocheting prayer shawls with Heart and Hands, whether we are getting our hands dirty in the church garden or singing together in the choir. We can pray hard, sharing our joys and concerns in worship, interceding for others with the prayer chain, or sharing those simple everyday invitations like, “May I pray for you?”

As we engage the Word, delight in our fellowship, and fervently pray, one thing will become abundantly clear to us. We’ll know God’s never-ending and overflowing love for us. We’ll see our lives for what they are—a blessing, an opportunity, an anticipation of the Kingdom of God. We’ll know that when we do our little bit, we make that Kingdom tangible for a world that desperately needs a love that is never-ending and overflowing.

We can trust that as we live into that beloved community, we will be changed. We’ll have a fresh appreciation for all the Lord has done for us. We’ll stop drawing those imaginary dividing lines. We’ll stop attaching strings. We’ll see our abundance as a blessing for our lives—and a blessing for the lives of others. Our hearts will soften. Our hands will open. We’ll live with glad and generous hearts, forging a blessed and irresistible community for all. May it be so.

Resources

Scott Shauf. “Commentary on Acts 2:42-47” in Preaching This Week, May 11, 2014. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter/commentary-on-acts-242-47-4

Sharon Betsworth. “Commentary on Acts 2:42-47” in Preaching This Week, April 30, 2023. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter/commentary-on-acts-242-47-6

Jeremy Williams. “Commentary on Acts 2:42-47” in Preaching This Week, April 26, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter/commentary-on-acts-242-47-7

Matt Skinner. “Commentary on Acts 2:42-47” in Preaching This Week, April 13, 2008. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-of-easter/commentary-on-acts-242-47-2

Acts 2:42-47

⁴² They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. ⁴³ Awe came upon everyone because many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles. ⁴⁴ All who believed were together and had all things in common; ⁴⁵ they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. ⁴⁶ Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, ⁴⁷ praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.