May 18, 2025
When Faithfulness Leads to Conflict
Acts 7:54-60
54 When they heard these things, they became enraged and ground their teeth at Stephen.[h] 55 But filled with the Holy Spirit, he gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God. 56 “Look,” he said, “I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God!” 57 But they covered their ears, and with a loud shout all rushed together against him. 58 Then they dragged him out of the city and began to stone him, and the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul.59 While they were stoning Stephen, he prayed, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” 60 Then he knelt down and cried out in a loud voice, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” When he had said this, he died.
This is the Word of the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
Today is Congregational Care Sunday, a day when we celebrate the ministry of our deacons. Many of you may be surprised to learn that Stephen, whose dramatic death we just read about, was first and foremost a deacon. In fact, he was one of the very first deacons in the early church, chosen specifically to ensure that Hellenistic widows weren’t being overlooked in the daily distribution of food.
His calling was a ministry of care – making sure that everyone, even those on the margins, received what they needed. It’s fascinating that the only extended story we have about one of these first deacons led not to a heartwarming tale of compassionate service, but to conflict, resistance, and ultimately, martyrdom.
How did Stephen go from serving food to widows to being stoned to death outside the city? What does his journey tell us about our own path of faithfulness? And what can it reveal to us about the ministry our deacons practice today?
The passage we read skips to the dramatic conclusion, but to make sense of it, we need to understand what happened first. Stephen, full of grace and power, was doing great wonders and signs among the people. Some members of the synagogue argued with him, but they couldn’t withstand his wisdom and the Spirit with which he spoke.
So they secretly instigated others to say, “We have heard him speak blasphemous words against Moses and God.”
This was a serious offense, and led to Stephen’s arrest and appearance before the council, where he delivered a passionate sermon tracing God’s movement throughout Israel’s history. He spoke about Abraham, Joseph, and Moses – all figures who were initially rejected by their people but through whom God powerfully worked.
The core of Stephen’s message was that God’s presence could not be confined to the temple. He reminded them of this quip from God in Isaiah: “Heaven is my throne, and the earth is my footstool. What kind of house will you build for me, says the Lord?”
Stephen’s sermon reached its climax when he directly confronted his accusers: “You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you are forever opposing the Holy Spirit, just as your ancestors used to do.”
These words—this truth-telling—led to the scene we read today. The religious leaders, “cut to the heart,” ground their teeth at Stephen. But he, “filled with the Holy Spirit,” looked up and saw “the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.”
Even as they dragged him out to stone him, Stephen prayed in the same way Jesus prayed when he was on the cross, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit,” and “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.”
Stephen’s witness – which is what the word martyr means – reveals a pattern of how faithfulness sometimes leads to conflict. Before I give some examples of what that looks like, let me quickly highlight the outline of the movement we see in Stephen’s story.
First, Stephen saw beyond existing religious structures. Throughout history, God has been on the move, working in unexpected places and through unexpected people. In the Old Testament, the first “house of God” was a tent and a portable box – not a Temple. This insight of God’s free movement – that God’s presence could not be confined to the Temple – threatened those whose authority and identity were tied to existing religious institutions.
In his sermon, Stephen showed how God’s presence had never been limited to a single place or form of expression. He reminded the council that “the Most High does not dwell in houses made with human hands.” He challenged the existing religious structure.
Second, he spoke truth with Spirit-filled wisdom. He was not just clever, but his words came with a Spirit-filled wisdom that his opponents could not refute—which only made them angrier. In Acts 6:10, we’re told that “they could not withstand the wisdom and the Spirit with which he spoke.” Stephen spoke with a divine wisdom that cut to the heart of the matter.
Third, he stood firm despite resistance. When faced with opposition, Stephen did not back down or soften his message to make it more palatable. He was firm in his conviction. Even knowing the potential consequences, he continued to proclaim what he had seen and understood about God’s gracious and free movement in Jesus Christ. His courage came not from stubbornness but from conviction.
Fourth, he suffered as a consequence. Stephen’s witness ultimately cost him his life. Even though none of us face martyrdom, faithfulness can sometimes lead to suffering. Throughout scripture and history, this pattern is the pattern, from the prophets to Jesus himself to countless witnesses since.
Fifth, Stephen experienced Christ’s presence in his suffering. At the height of the conflict, Stephen “gazed into heaven and saw the glory of God and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.” The early church bishops noticed something significant here: Jesus is standing, not sitting. Elsewhere in scripture the risen Christ is seated at God’s right hand, here he is standing, as if ready to defend Stephen, to advocate for him, to stand beside him in his struggle. The risen Jesus is not distant from our conflicts but present in them.
Finally, Stephen responded with forgiveness just like Jesus. Stephen’s last words echo Jesus on the cross: “Lord, do not hold this sin against them.” Forgive them. Even as he suffered, Stephen embodied the love of Jesus. Radical forgiveness breaks the cycle of violence and retribution. With his dying breath, Stephen practiced what Jesus taught about loving enemies and praying for persecutors. His death, like his life, proclaimed the gospel.
Stephen is the first person in the early church whose faithfulness led to conflict, but he is not alone. Followers of Jesus have always found that faithfulness to the gospel sometimes places them at odds with religious and political authorities—and sometimes with their own faith communities.
Think of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian who strongly opposed Hitler’s regime because of what he saw happening to the church in his home country, and his theological conviction that the church must not be co-opted by nationalism. In The Cost of Discipleship, he wrote, “Suffering, then, is the badge of true discipleship.”
What drove him was not a crusading ego, but a deep understanding of being faithful to the way of Jesus—and it ultimately cost him his life.
Think of clergy in the Civil Rights Movement who faced opposition not just from secular authorities but from other Christians. When Dr. King sat in a Birmingham jail, it was white moderate clergy who counseled patience and criticized his “unwise and untimely” protests. Like Stephen, Dr. King and others with him were accused of disrupting religious and social harmony while they were actually being faithful to a deep understanding of the gospel.
I think of places in our world today where we see the struggle to be faithful in conflict. In a place like Gaza, where Christian communities are struggling to keep a faithful witness while facing religious and political pressure from multiple sides.
One of our denomination’s mission partners is the Sabeel Ecumenical Liberation Theology Center in Palestine. From the beginning of the conflict in October 2023, up to today, when we are witnessing the forced starvation of Palestinians, they have tried to embody Stephen’s spirit as they speak truth about injustice while maintaining a commitment to nonviolence and reconciliation.
And I think of our own denomination’s journey toward the full inclusion of LGBTQ persons—a journey that many of you personally shared, in this denomination or in others. For decades, Presbyterians who advocated for inclusion faced accusations of abandoning biblical authority and were characterized as being disruptive to church unity. As a denomination, we experienced painful church departures of members and congregations, and broken relationships that still have not yet healed.
Yet like Stephen who argued that God’s presence could not be confined to the temple, these advocates understood that God’s call couldn’t be confined by traditional interpretations that excluded people based on sexuality or gender identity. They saw beyond existing structures to perceive God’s movement of grace in Jesus Christ.
And some of you have experienced painful divisions within your own families over theological differences, like a theology of inclusion or other differences. Perhaps you’ve had the experience of loved ones who “cover their ears,” like Stephen’s accusers, refusing even to hear your understanding of faith and the way of Jesus.
Maintaining love and forgiveness toward those who reject or attack our understanding of faith is very hard, and it’s a crucial part of faith that has integrity and conviction.
So, what does all this have to do with Congregational Care Sunday and the ministry of deacons? Remember that Stephen’s conflict arose from his commitment to care – specifically, care for those who were being overlooked. His role as a deacon wasn’t only about practical service but included speaking out. He noticed who was being marginalized. He used his position to ensure care for those on the edges. And his care for others eventually led him to speak challenging truths to power.
Our denomination’s Book of Order beautifully describes the ministry of deacons this way: “The ministry of deacon as set forth in Scripture is one of compassion, witness, and service, sharing in the redeeming love of Jesus Christ for the poor, the hungry, the sick, the lost, the friendless, the oppressed, those burdened by unjust policies or structures, or anyone in distress.”
Did you notice how this definition moves beyond providing comfort. Deacons are called to share in Christ’s redeeming love, and sometimes caring means challenging the systems that cause their distress in the first place.
True care is about meeting immediate needs, but sometimes also examining why those needs exist in the first place. It means asking uncomfortable questions about who is cared for, valued or overlooked. It means being willing, like Stephen, to speak truthfully with wisdom and the Spirit.
The good news is we don’t do this alone. At the height of his conflict, Stephen saw the presence of the risen Christ standing – not sitting – at the right hand of God. Jesus is standing—as an advocate in a courtroom would stand, as one who has been given authority to defend, standing beside Stephen in his struggle. Stephen was not alone.
And neither are we. When faithfulness leads to conflict—in our world, with our Christians, in our families – the risen Jesus stands to empower us through the Spirit to speak with wisdom and respond with his love.
Of course, before I finish, this comes with an important caveat. We must also be humble. Even when the conflict arises from our strongest convictions. We hope and pray that Christ stands with us in our struggles, yet there is also the possibility that we may be wrong. The history of the church is filled with examples of inspiring Christians who stood for the truth; and also filled with well-meaning Christians who believed they were standing for truth but got it wrong.
This doesn’t mean we should abandon our convictions, or shy away from our faith if it leads into conflict. But it does mean that we must hold our positions with both conviction and humility—willing to speak the truth as we understand it, but also willing to listen, to learn, and to be corrected.
Before Stephen was a speaker, you see, he was a listener. Before he was a martyr, he was a deacon—he heard the cries of the suffering, who cared enough to ensure that no one was overlooked, who was courageous enough to speak the truth of his faith no matter the cost.
Like Stephen, and so many others in the great train of Christian witness, I pray that we will care deeply enough to notice those who are suffering.
May we, like Stephen, speak truth with wisdom and the Spirit.
And may we, like Stephen and so many others, embody the love, mercy, and forgiveness of Jesus, even when faithfulness leads to conflict.
Amen.
Rev. Patrick W. T. Johnson, Ph.D.
First Presbyterian Church
Asheville, North Carolina