Song in the Darkness (Acts 16:16-34)

Anybody have a particularly bad day this week, a day when nothing went right? 

That’s the kind of day Paul was having.

On his way to “a place of prayer,” he was followed by a girl who was a slave.  And she annoyed the heck out of Paul and his companions. 

She did this non-stop, and it drove Paul crazy.  Although, as the scripture puts it, it was a spirit of divination within her that was really doing it.  The spirit was keeping her mind enslaved just as her owners were keeping her body enslaved.  She was doubly-oppressed, doubly-enslaved. 

Was Paul annoyed because she was pestering him?  Was he annoyed because this poor girl was doubly-enslaved, something that was contrary to Jesus’s mission of ending oppression and captivity? 

Probably a little of both.

So finally Paul turned and said to the spirit, “I order you in the name of Jesus Christ to come out of her.”

Unfortunately, if Paul thought that getting rid of the spirit would allow him to continue uninterrupted with his schedule, he was sorely mistaken.

The slave-girl’s owners had relied on the spirit of darkness.  That spirit kept her mind enslaved, and once one’s mind is enslaved, it’s all too easy to keep one’s body enslaved. 

Modern slavery relies on this; human trafficking is rampant.  It even takes place here in Long Beach.  Chains and whips are not normally used, however.  Instead of chains of metal, modern slave traffickers use chains of fear, control, and intimidation.

With these mental chains broken, the girl’s owners now had several problems.  They could no longer use the girl to make money.  They could no longer control her.  They realized that, now that her mind was free, it would be harder to keep her body enslaved.

So they had Paul and his companion Silas arrested.  Paul and Silas were stripped of their clothing, beaten, and flogged.  They were put in prison, in the innermost cell where no light reaches, with their feet fastened in stocks so that they could hardly move.

Now that’s what I call “a bad day”…

Now Paul and Silas were the ones who had lost their freedom.  Now it was they whose bodies were held in captivity.

And yet…

Though their bodies were chained and imprisoned, their minds were free.

Their minds were free, and in that pitch-dark innermost cell, in the middle of the night (because who could really sleep under those circumstances)…

they began to sing.

A song can be an incredibly powerful thing.  Sometimes, when an infant child is upset, the sound of a mother’s voice singing is what soothes and calms the child. 

One of the things that’s so special about coming to worship is that here we get to experience live singing; not songs recorded in the past and electronically, digitally played back, but real, live singing.  And not only that, but we get to help create the music.  There aren’t many places in this 21^st century world where that happens.

During WWII Viktor Frankl spent three years in concentration camps.  Despite the horrors he endured, he was somehow able to hold on to hope; he was somehow able to keep his mind free, to not allow the Nazis to enslave his mind even as his body was kept in the most horrible captivity.

He later explained that “Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of human freedoms - to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.”

For many prisoners, the one thing that allowed them to stay free in their minds was music.  They sang; and not only that, they composed.  They composed music in their minds, songs of hope.  When they could, they put their compositions on paper, using whatever they could find; one upbeat song about the railway was discovered written on scraps of toilet paper.  Other songs, they simply sang so that others would hear the melody, which would be passed on from person to person without the use of any paper at all.

Most people find it very hard to not let their attitude be influenced by their current circumstances.  Buddhist practices emphasize accepting each moment without judging it.  Each moment, each experience, is.  It is neither good nor bad, it just is. 

At least, I think that’s how a Buddhist would describe it.  But I do know that mindfulness meditation helps Buddhists learn how to maintain a level of inner peace no matter what’s going on around them. 

I wonder if singing could be considered a form of mindfulness meditation?  Maybe it depends on the song.

This whole episode in Acts began when Paul and his companions were on their way to a place of prayer.  Perhaps one of the things Paul prayed for, repeatedly, was the ability to have inner peace in the face of difficult circumstances, to be able to accept each moment and not let what was going on affect his attitude; to let his attitude be shaped by nothing but God’s love in Christ; to focus on that love which is greater than anything that can happen around him or to him.

This is certainly something I should be spending more time praying for and meditating about.  I find that it’s so easy to get annoyed, frustrated and upset by something as trivial as being cut off by another driver on the freeway; or by having to wait in a long checkout line at Target.  Doesn’t the store manager realize that the popsicles I bought for my kids are melting in my cart? 

If my mental state can’t handle minor inconveniences like these, how will it ever remain free and at peace if and when I come face-to-face with serious trials and tribulations?

Like Paul, I need to find my way to the place of prayer.  And maybe that place of prayer isn’t a physical place or location, but a mental place.  Whatever it is – where-ever it is – I need to get myself there, and stop letting my mind be enslaved and held captive by my current circumstances.

I think that Paul’s mind was in that place of prayer in that prison cell.  That prison cell had become for him a place of prayer.  And he and his companions sang.  They sang songs of freedom, songs of hope, songs of comfort.  They refused to let their circumstances enslave their minds.  Indeed, as long as they sang, they were free.

The jailer, on the other hand…

The jailer is sitting outside the prison cell.  He holds the keys to the stocks, the bars, and the chains. 

But he does not hold the keys to freedom.

Because the jailer himself is not free.

The jailer’s mind belongs to Rome.  He is captive; captive to a belief system that obligates him to commit suicide when he fears that his prisoners have escaped; because a guard who lets his prisoners escape will face a punishment even worse than suicide.

But when that earthquake broke the bonds of the prisoners, they did not need to escape. 

They didn’t need to escape, because they were already free.

And the jailer, realizing this, wanted nothing more than to have and experience that freedom for himself.  He realized that his prisoners were actually the ones who were free, and that he – even though he was outside the cell and held the keys – he was the one who lived in captivity.

So he asked: “What can I do – what must I do – to experience the freedom you have?  What must I do to experience the kind of life you have, to be saved from the captivity I’m living in?”

Paul’s answer?   “Believe.”  And then, the scripture says, Paul spoke the word of the Lord to him.

With our modern understanding, we hear Paul’s instruction to “believe,” and we think that it’s a very simple thing, that all we have to do is affirm that Jesus is who he says he is. 

But, as scripture points out elsewhere, even Satan does that.

For Paul, to believe means much more than that.  It means to devote oneself to the teachings of Jesus, to focus one’s mind on him, to meditate on him and the love of God that comes through him. 

This “believing” is a life-long journey.  It involves daily practice.  It involves focusing one’s mind on the Spirit that sets you free, rather than the spirit that keeps you enslaved.

It involves learning how to sing in the darkness, even on a day that has gone horribly wrong.

Last year, Los Angeles Times Pop Music Critic Randall Roberts visited Central City Community Church of the Nazarene, located on L.A.’s skid row.

He went for karaoke night.  He heard a guy sing “Rainbow Connection,” and wrote that the guy even enunciated each word just like Kermit. He also heard a woman “yowl” her way through Christopher Cross’s “Ride Like the Wind,” and a group of people sing Queen’s “Bohemian Rhapsody.”

Anthony Stallworth, known in the community as Pastor Tony, came up with the idea.  Randall Roberts article quotes Pastor Tony as saying: "We're a place where the homeless can come, they can sing a song, they can feel like somebody after being rejected everywhere else, get a free cup of coffee — and people applaud for them."

Rage Against the Machine guitarist Tom Morello donated the karaoke machine. 

He said:  “[The people on skid row] are completely erased from history in a way.  You fall below this certain poverty line, you no longer have any voice — certainly no voice in electoral politics, and no economic voice to buy a lobbyist to serve your cause. One small way that these people maintain a voice is through song."

A woman who likes to come and sing LeAnn Rimes' version of "I Hope You Dance" had this to say:  "When I perform this song, it opens up my heart, and allows me to know that doors may close in my face, but another one opens. And no matter what, I'm not ashamed. I cry when I cry, but to know that I can get up there and do what I do knowing that you're not looking down on me, or through me, or around me, but you're looking at me."

I’ve no doubt that there are a lot of bad days when you’re living on skid row; a lot of days when things don’t go the way you want them to.  But if you can find your way to a place of prayer, a place where you can sing a song in the darkness, sing in the midst of the most difficult circumstances, then your mind will be free and you will find peace.

And only then will you be ready to help others find their freedom – freedom for the body and the mind.  Only then will you be able to take part in the work of Christ, to proclaim release to the captives and to let the oppressed go free.