How To Be Annoying

"How To Be Annoying"
Acts 4:1-12


When it comes to being annoying, most people haven't yet begun to plumb the depths of creative exasperation.  One of the classic ways is the crank phone call in the middle of the night.  Even presidents aren't immune to that one.  A New Jersey man telephoned the White House at three o'clock in the morning and asked to speak to President Woodrow Wilson.  He said it was a matter of national importance.  The operator rang and woke President Wilson.
"The collector of customs here in New Jersey has died," the man informed the President.
"I'm sorry to hear that," President Wilson said, "but why are you calling me at this hour?"
"Because I want to replace him," was the reply.
"Thoroughly annoyed, President Wilson said, "Well, if the undertaker has no objection, neither do I."  And he hung up.

Being an annoyance comes naturally for some people.  Most of us know someone who absolutely gets on our nerves, as well as the nerves of everyone they meet.  I remember seeing, on someone's refrigerator, a picture that was a cartoon caricature of a woman.  The woman's hair was thin and scraggly and standing on end--like she had just rubbed her few hairs on a balloon, or stuck her finger in an electric socket.  The look on her face wouldn't launch a thousand ships, but probably sink a good many of them.  Under the drawing of this woman was the statement, "I've only got one nerve left, and you're getting on it!"

Why is it that some people thrive on that kind of negative attention?  They aren't happy until they've thoroughly bugged someone else to the point of frenzy.  Sometimes, though, it's not the personality of the individual, but something about the way they act--a certain irritating behavior.  Either way, whatever the behavior or personality trait might be, there are a multitude of ways to get on someone's last nerve.  And new ones are being created all the time.

It is that particular word that caught my eye in the verses from Acts 4--that the disciples were being annoying.  Or at least the temple authorities were annoyed by what the disciples Peter and John were doing.  What they were doing was "...teaching the people that Jesus had risen from death."  Now that hardly seems like anything to get irked about.

Nothing like in the cartoon, Calvin and Hobbes, who decided to have batting practice in his living room.  Calvin's mother came in screaming as she looked at the broken lamps, and raged, "How could you think to do such a thing!?"
To which Calvin replied, "Inherited intelligence?"
The last frame showed him sitting in his room with Hobbes muttering, "I guess that was the wrong answer."  Calvin is the king of exasperation.  But proclaiming the Resurrection and teaching about Jesus hardly seems to rate with anything on Calvin's level.

Why had the disciples so annoyed the religious authorities?  One of the reasons had to do with the idea of the Resurrection itself.  One of the brands of religious leaders--the Sadducees--didn't believe in any kind of afterlife, resurrection, or eternity.  This is it.  This is all we've got.  The Sadducees built their whole religious order around that disbelief.  Jesus, being resurrected from the grave, flew directly in the face of their precious misconceptions.  They were annoyed because they were trying to protect their own religious turf.  They didn't care what the facts were.  They just wanted to safeguard their ignorance and and absolute refusal to accept the Resurrection as truth.

Have you ever had that happen, when you had some cherished notion being challenged by clear evidence to the contrary?  You can only do one of two things at that point.  One is to let go of your misconception in light of the clear evidence.  The other is to deny the truth in favor of your familiar untruth.  The truth may be too hard to swallow, and we often find out how stubborn we can be about our dearly held misconceptions when they get challenged.  We would rather argue our ignorance than accept the facts that stare us in the face.

But this is part of the work of the Christian.  This is part of how we may be annoying.  Cherished customs and beliefs abound.  Some have nothing to do with God or God's truth.  It is the task of the Christian to challenge these customs and beliefs, especially when they are within us.  It is our task to gently, but courageously teach about Jesus so that the strongbox of ignorance may be broken into, and filled with the real currency of God's truth.  As with the Sadducees, you will find that people will not welcome your teaching.  People will be annoyed with you.  It's not that you will come across as a holy-joe or some brash television evangelist.  The truth, no matter how it is conveyed is often a harder mirror to look into.


Another reason I think the religious leadership was so annoyed was that these Christians just kept popping up.  They wouldn't stay down.  They wouldn't raise the white flag, but seemed to come back from defeat even stronger.  A kindergarten teacher once told me keeping order in her class was like trying to keep 22 corks all submerged at the same time.  You think you've got them down and then a bunch pop up.  That’s the way these early Christians were.

The Jewish leaders, after  finding out how Peter and John had healed a man, and then had the audacity to teach about Jesus to the crowd that had gathered, were exasperated about how these Christians kept staying afloat; and not only staying afloat, but proving themselves to be strong swimmers in the pool of religion.

It must have been risky for the disciples to do what they were doing--being an annoyance to the established religious leadership.  The chief priests, the Sadducees, and the controller of the temple would have all been involved in the plot to arrest Jesus and have him crucified--which would have been only a few months prior to this arrest of Peter and John.  The disciples had no reason to believe that they wouldn't be treated any differently than Jesus was.  When they were arrested, they could only assume that the cross awaited them.

So, part of being so annoying to any religious establishment is a certain level of boldness--like the disciples were bold.  They don't seem to learn lessons well about who's in charge.  Part of the exasperation on the part of the religious leaders was that the disciples would take such a risk continuing their teaching activity in the name of Jesus.

It seems to me there are two kinds of risks.  There are foolish risks, and there are, for lack of a better term, risky risks.  A foolish risk would be like jumping off a tall building and hoping that you can find a way to land softly on your feet.  Like the guy who jumped from a building and was heard to say as he passed the 17th floor, "So far, so good."

But there are risky risks.  They may have an element of foolishness about therm.  But if the risk is taken, and the outcome is successful, a hero is made.

There is an old phrase:  "belling the cat."  The phrase has the meaning of taking on a great risk for the sake of some great cause, for the benefit of friends, family and neighbors.  The expression came from a story, attributed to Aesop, in which a mouse suggested that one from among them should hang a bell on the cat so the mice would know when the cat was coming.  The only problem was, as pointed out by one of the older mice:  who was going to be the one who tied the bell around the neck of the cat?  Who was going to take that great of a risk?  Possibly several would have to risk the venture, and die trying, before the task would be completed.

Such was the risk of those early disciples.  They certainly had to go out among the cats--the prowling religious leaders who wore no bells--and risk proclaiming and teaching Jesus to the people.  I am convinced that had they not taken that risk, we would not be sitting here today.  Theodore Roosevelt once said, "No man is worth his salt who is not ready at all times to risk his body, to risk his well-being, to risk his life, in a great cause."

Life seems to be lived best by those who take a risk with life and what they believe in most deeply.  It's not a crazy risk, but it's a risk nonetheless.  Sometimes the risk is based on nothing more than a promise.  Jesus told his disciples at one time:

Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to obey everything that I've commanded you.  Look, I myself will be with you every day until the end of this present age.  (Matthew 28:19-20)

Taking on the risk of being one of Jesus' disciples, carrying with it the responsibility of teaching and proclaiming in some fashion or another, may seem foolish.  Taking a risk means sticking with something through to either the bitter or blessed end.  The treasure or the trouble, or both, won't be had until the full weight of the risk has been lifted upon your shoulders and you carry it.  But the risk is taken because the promise seems greater than the danger.

The disciples had two very opposite signs as to the determination of the success or failure of the risk they took.  One was their arrest.  If they concentrated on the arrest as a measure of the success of the risk, they would certainly have been fearful and overwhelmed by failure.  Peter was one of the clear leaders of the early Christians after Jesus’ Resurrection and Ascension.  Was this arrest, because the disciples were being annoying to the religious leadership, going to be the end of the church?  Would the church be constantly doomed to having its leadership hauled off and nipped at the bud, simply because they wouldn't stop being annoying?

On the other hand, the arrested disciples could have concentrated on the tremendous popular response their teaching and proclaiming created:  2000 new converts!  What a wrenching paradoxical response to risk taken!  The two disciples were marched off to jail, while at the same time 2000 new Christians were joining ranks with the other believers.  Tremendous success joined by apparent tremendous, scary failure.  Was the risk worth it?

Taking the risk of belling the cat can get very annoying for the cat.  Taking a risk can be deadly for the mice.  But for those who chose to face the cat, there is the decision as to whether the cause is worth the risk.  The disciples must have made that decision, and thus knew what the possibilities were.  So it is with any Christian at any place in any time.  The risk is that the faith that we have and the teaching of the resurrected Jesus can annoy those who would rather not face such truth.  So it is with Christians who take their faith seriously.  So it is with those believers who have decided that speaking the message of Christ is worth the risk--even though you may be annoying to those who'd rather you not do that.