The Second Sunday of Luke
Scripture: 2 Cor. 9:6 – 11
Imagine that tomorrow someone told you that you could keep your Christian faith … but only if you kept it hidden.
You could still pray. You could still teach your children about Christ. You could still remember the saints. You could even keep an icon in your home. But you couldn’t let anyone know.
For some Christians living under Ottoman rule, this was not a thought experiment.
After the Ottoman conquest of Cyprus in the sixteenth century, Christians found themselves living under a Muslim empire in which Christianity was permitted, but Christians did not possess the same status as Muslims. The island itself had a complicated Christian population: Greek Orthodox Christians, Latin Catholics, and Maronite Christians.
Under pressure, some Christians converted to Islam, some remained openly Christian, while others lived somewhere in between.
Those in between folks became known as the Linobambaki (Λινοβάμβακοι), which means “linen-cotton;” a name they received because they seemed to be made of two different things at once. Publicly, they lived as Muslims, but privately they continued to practice Christianity … but only in secret.
We might be tempted to look back at people like this and ask: Were they courageous enough? Why didn’t they simply confess Christ openly? Why didn’t they choose martyrdom? Isn’t that what Christ calls us to? Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?
But before we judge them, perhaps we should ask a harder question: What would we have done?
Some of these Christians faced circumstances in which refusing conversion could mean the loss of their property, their livelihood, their freedom, and, in periods of violence, even their lives.
But this history is even more troublesome for us when we consider what St. Paul tells us today. He says,
“Each one must do as he has made up his mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that you may always have enough of everything and may provide in abundance for every good work.”
God loves a cheerful giver, and provides you with every blessing, yet, to preserve your life, you have to practice your faith in secret? What’s going on? What is God really promising?
In context, Paul is talking about money. The Christians of Corinth are being encouraged to contribute generously to the needs of other Christians, especially those in Jerusalem.
But I think that Paul is describing something much deeper than financial giving.
He is describing the freedom of the Christian heart.
There is a profound difference between giving something because someone has forced you to give it, and giving because love has moved you to give.
A person can have everything taken from them and still possess something that cannot be taken: the freedom to love.
And this is where those hidden Christians can help us understand Paul a bit better.
We should be careful not to romanticize them. We shouldn’t assume that every person who publicly converted to Islam was secretly a Christian. We shouldn’t assume that every crypto-Christian made the same choices or had the same motives.
But there really were Christians who, under extraordinary pressure, found ways to preserve their faith.
But what did they have to give?
Perhaps they had no money. Perhaps they had no political power. Perhaps they could not even publicly proclaim their faith.
But they could give their children the knowledge of Christ. They could preserve the memory of the saints. They could pray. And, they could remember, inwardly, to whom they belonged: Jesus Christ.
In this light, Paul’s words take on a deeper meaning, because Christian generosity, what we often call “stewardship,” is not just about having a lot of money.
It is about what we do with what God has placed in our hands.
Remember, Paul wrote:
“God is able to provide you with every blessing in abundance, so that you may always have enough of everything and may provide in abundance for every good work.”
He doesn’t say we will never suffer. He doesn’t say that we will never lose our possessions. He doesn’t say that our faithfulness will always make our lives easier.
What Paul says is that God promises that we will have enough to become a giver … even when we don’t think we have enough. Even when circumstances make us feel that we should close our hands and hold tightly to what we have.
God gave us his son. Jesus gave us his life. This is our example, and because God chose to give, we give.
This is the pattern of the Gospel, and this is the demonstration of love … God’s love. And it’s how we respond to what God has given us.
And that changes the way we understand everything we have.
Our money.
Our homes.
Our time.
Our abilities.
Our families.
Our faith.
Even our suffering.
None of these things ultimately belong to us. They have been placed into our hands for a time.
So, our challenge today is: “What will I do with what God has given me?”
The Christians who lived under persecution understood something that we who live in comfort can easily forget: faith is not valuable because it makes our lives safe.
Faith is valuable because Christ is worth giving everything for.
And sometimes this means publicly saying, “I am a Christian.” Sometimes it means suffering for Christ. And sometimes, in some circumstances, it may mean simply keeping the flame alive until it can safely be handed to someone else.
But in every circumstance, the question remains the same: What will I do with what God has given me?
Amen.