O For a Thousand Tongues to Sing
a sermon based on Acts 16:16-34
by Rev. Randy Quinn

There were times when being in school felt like being in prison to me.  I remember making that observation while I was a student at Glenn Hammond Curtiss Junior High School in Carson, California.  Part of the reason was the school itself.

It was a brand-new school the first year I was there.  No one had ever used the locker I was assigned before I used it.  No one else had sat in the chairs I sat in.  No one else had opened the books I read before.

On the one hand, it was exciting to be a student in a brand-new school; on the other hand, the architecture was reminiscent of a prison.

It was built on two floors with classroom wings built in a square around an open “quad.”  The classroom windows on the exterior of the building were high and narrow, so we could see nothing outside except the sky.  At each corner of the building there were stairwells protruding from the building that from a distance looked very much like guard towers.  It had a stucco exterior that was painted a brownish gray.

It looked like a prison.  We all could see that.  And when I drove by it a few years ago, it still looked like a prison.

And for some students it was just that.  A prison.

For others, it felt like it on occasion, but for the most part my friends and I simply joked about the ‘prison-like’ atmosphere.  For us, the school provided a place in which our minds were expanded as we heard about and read about and talked about new ideas and learned the essential elements of the American educational system.

Your experience of school may not have included the visual effects of a prison.  Today’s teachers and students may or may feel as if the WASL’s are simply a variation of the stocks and shackles used in years past.  But you probably can see how some people might experience it that way.

The truth is that some people find their work to be a prison, too.  They may not have bars on the doors and windows, but there is a sense that they cannot escape.  They find work just to pay the bills rather than finding and following a vocation, a place where their God-given talents can be used to honor God.

Paul found himself in a real prison.  His hands and feet were in real shackles.  And unlike prisoners in our modern jails, Paul and Silas had no privacy, no TV, no exercise yard, and no visitors.  It was just a dark, damp, cave-like building where prisoners were locked up for a variety of crimes.

Paul’s response to being in prison, however, made it less like a prison and more like a church.  Paul was in prison for preaching and in prison he continued preaching.  (He literally had a “captive audience.”  J  The only thing missing was an offering plate! J)  Paul had a clear sense of his vocation and he was not going to be deterred from serving and honoring God.  He prayed and he sang.  He found reasons to celebrate what God was doing – even in the most miserable of circumstances.

Charles Wesley, the author of today’s hymn, found himself visiting prisoners in English jails in the 18^th Century.  They were not much better than the one Paul occupied, but Charles knew he needed to visit those in prison as an expression of his faith (Mt 25:39).

But Charles didn’t think his words would have any meaning to the prisoners if he stood outside the cells and spoke to them.  So on more than one occasion, Charles Wesley asked the jailors to lock him inside the prison over night.  He wanted those in prison to know they were not alone.

Not only was Charles there, he was a representative of the church so the church was there.  He was also a representative of God, so he could tell them in all honesty that God was present, too.

Some people today are imprisoned by financial pressures.  Others are imprisoned by family constraints.  Some people are trapped in emotional shackles while others are trapped in the dungeons of despair.

No matter what your own prison may look like, no matter who put the shackles on your hands and feet, Charles Wesley’s example is a reminder that God has not abandoned you.

And in fact, God’s mere presence with you is reason enough to sing, to use your tongue and to offer praise, to stand up and leap for joy because God is here.

When Paul did that, the prison doors swung open wide.  The other prisoners were set free and the even the jailor experienced God’s grace.

The same thing happens in the lives of those who know their own vocation and follow that call.  It is freeing, it is life giving, and it affects the lives of those around us.  To the graduates, I say find your vocation and follow your call.  We will all be richer if and when you do.

Thanks be to God.

Amen.