4/6 Joy of Disciples and Saints

Acts Sermon series 48

Date: April 6, 2025

Title: Joy of Disciples and Saints

Text (Acts 9:26–31, NIV):

26 When he arrived in Jerusalem, he tried to join the disciples, but they were all afraid of him, not believing that he really was a disciple.

27 But Barnabas took him and brought him to the apostles. He told them how Saul on his journey had seen the Lord and that the Lord had spoken to him, and how in Damascus he had preached fearlessly in the name of Jesus.

28 So Saul stayed with them and moved about freely in Jerusalem, speaking boldly in the name of the Lord.

29 He talked and debated with the Hellenistic Jews, but they tried to kill him.

30 When the brothers learned of this, they took him down to Caesarea and sent him off to Tarsus.

31 Then the church throughout Judea, Galilee and Samaria enjoyed a time of peace and was strengthened. Living in the fear of the Lord and encouraged by the Holy Spirit, it increased in numbers.

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A Change of Ownership

In today’s passage we see how the believers in Jerusalem struggled to accept Saul. From their perspective, their fear was understandable. It was as shocking as if a ruthless oppressor—one who had arrested and even killed Christians—suddenly reappeared as a champion for independence.

But Saul himself must have felt deeply hurt. After fleeing Damascus in a basket to escape death threats, he finally reached Jerusalem, hoping for fellowship and safety among the apostles. Instead, he found suspicion.

Worse yet, the Greek-speaking Jews who had once been his companions now labeled him “Public Enemy No. 1,” a traitor whose life was in danger. Even within the church walls, Saul had nowhere to turn—until one brother stepped forward.

“But Barnabas took him and brought him to the apostles…” (Acts 9:27a)

Do you remember the name Barnabas? During the months of revival following Pentecost, the apostles and the early believers—mostly poor—lived together, sharing meals and resources. This required generous funding. Among those who gave sacrificially, one man stands out in Scripture for his generosity and encouragement: Joseph, nicknamed Barnabas.

“Joseph, a Levite from Cyprus, whom the apostles called Barnabas (which means ‘son of encouragement’), sold a field he owned and brought the money and put it at the apostles’ feet.” (Acts 4:36–37, NIV)

Though his given name was Joseph, everyone called him “Barnabas”—“son of encouragement,” or “son of consolation.” What a fitting nickname! The Bible preserves this detail to show how vital he was to the young church.

When Barnabas sold his field, his motivation was beautifully simple:

“He had land; so he sold it and brought the money…” (Acts 4:37a)

No elaborate explanation—just, “I had land, so I gave it.” It’s like someone pouring their heart into service and, when asked why, replying simply, “Because I can.”

Barnabas was that kind of person.

When he heard what had happened to Saul—how the Lord had appeared to him on the road, how Saul had preached boldly in Damascus—he believed it without hesitation. While others shied away or doubted, Barnabas stood by Saul, vouching for him before the apostles.

In this, Barnabas reminds us of Boaz, who rescued Naomi and Ruth. Though he isn’t a headline figure throughout Scripture, Barnabas shines as a model disciple—one whom the Lord highlights for our example.

Just as his name suggests, Barnabas was a son of encouragement and strength—not only to the church but to God Himself.

Children Who Bring God Joy

God loves all His children, but there are some who bring Him special delight—just like Barnabas.

In the Old Testament book of Job, we see God speaking of Job with pleasure and boasting about him before the angels.  David, Moses, Abraham, Joseph, and, as we saw last week, Ruth the Moabite and Boaz—all of these brightly shining figures in Scripture were children whom God especially delighted in.

Don’t you want to be someone who brings joy to God?

Think of children: when they draw a picture or make something, they can’t wait to show it to their teacher or parent.  When they do well on a test, they shout, “Look, Dad! Look, Mom!”  They want to be a source of joy.

Every person has a natural desire to be loved, affirmed, and to bring joy.  When that desire is directed wrongly, it can ruin lives—but at its root, it springs from our Creator-Father.

In his Confessions, Augustine of Hippo put it this way:

“You have made us for yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

And the 17th‑century mathematician Blaise Pascal said much the same in his Pensées:

“There was once in man a true happiness, of which all that remains is a trace and a shadow.  Man endeavors to fill this void with everything around him, but it is all in vain.  This infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object—that is to say, only by God himself.”

Not only Christians but the wisest in the world agree: human desire is endless.  You cannot fill an infinite void with finite things.

What sets us free?

When you’re recognized and praised at work or at home, it means you have met someone’s expectations—and there are few feelings sweeter than that.  You’ve done your part.

But that satisfaction vanishes the moment you fail to meet those expectations.  How then can we fill this infinite space?

Jesus gave us the answer:

“The one who sent me is with me; he has not left me alone, for I always do what pleases him.”

—John 8:29 (NIV)

Our Lord Jesus, the perfect Son of God, always did what pleased the Father—and so the Father was always with Him.  This is the only sure way.

To be God’s child is to be God’s delight.

Like a toddler learning to walk and feed himself, this is an ongoing process—and yet it holds the hope of completion, of maturity.

Scripture makes clear the difference between a life that bears fruit and one that does not:

“If anyone builds on this foundation [of Christ] using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw,

their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light.  It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work.

If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward.

If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved—even though only as one escaping through the flames.”

—1 Corinthians 3:12–15 (NIV)

On that Day nothing will be hidden.  All that we have done—whether out of love for the Lord or for ourselves—will be laid bare.

Those who have accepted Jesus as the Christ may wander and live as though they were their own masters, but unless they fall beyond the reach of repentance, most will turn back in true repentance and be saved at the last moment.  Yet their lives will be filled with regret—watching their labor become ashes, meeting the Lord in sorrow and shame.

As your pastor and brother, my mission is to help you avoid such tragedy.  I long for every member of our community to have a life filled with eternal, shining moments with the Lord.

That’s why through these sermons, through service, retreats, missions, one‑on‑one encounters, and every means available, I teach you how to spend time with the Lord, help you focus in prayer, and, when your heart is drawn away by distractions, I urge and challenge you to wake up.

Ask yourself: are you “investing” in things that will burn away?  Or are you living for the things that will shine forever?

Disciples and Saints

Aside from cults, North Point Church has been the largest church in the United States for several years.  Its pastor, Andy Stanley, once said in a sermon that the very first name given to us—before we were ever called “Christians”—was “disciples.”  This remark made headlines in most Christian publications at the time:

“Christians are, in fact, all ‘disciples’!”

What do you think?  Is that surprising to you?  In many evangelical churches—ours included—the Great Commission at the end of Matthew’s Gospel (“go and make disciples of all nations” [Matt. 28:19, NIV]) is regarded as the church’s primary purpose.  Logically, then, everyone who believes in Jesus is ultimately a disciple.  So it’s almost puzzling that the statement “all Christians are disciples” caused such a stir.

Why were people so amazed?  Clearly, they regarded “disciples” as something special—reserved for an elite few.  Only when I saw their reaction did I understand: many churchgoers happily call themselves “Christians,” but hesitate to call themselves “disciples.”

What makes them draw a line between an ordinary Christian and a disciple?  Seminary training?  Those who feel “called” to ministry?  Or perhaps only those who have completed an advanced “disciple-making” Bible study?

In truth, the reason “disciple” feels too weighty for many is that they assume Jesus’ hard sayings don’t apply to them.  For example:

“Large crowds were traveling with Jesus, and turning to them he said:

‘If anyone comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters—yes, even their own life—such a person cannot be my disciple.  And whoever does not carry their cross and follow me cannot be my disciple.’”

—Luke 14:25–27 (NIV)

To love Jesus more than your own family—or even your own life—and to take up your cross is no optional extra.  Jesus Himself made that clear.  Do you think these demands apply only to some “special” disciples, but not to ordinary Christians?  Do you want to remain in the crowd rather than truly follow Him?

In Acts, another title appears: “saints.”  In many churches, “saints” is used more loosely than “disciples,” often referring to everyone who isn’t a specially trained disciple.  But the Greek word is hagios—“holy ones,” “set-apart people.”  In English, “saint” means “holy one.”

Compared to “disciple” (“one who follows Jesus”), “saint” (“holy one”) is an even higher title.  One of Jesus’ own titles was “the Holy One of God.”  To be called “saints” is not merely to follow Jesus but to be like Jesus.

Two weeks ago at Communion, we examined the meaning of “Christian”—one who acknowledges Christ as Savior, Lord, and King.  So none of these titles—disciple, saint, Christian—is lightweight.  Who are you?  A disciple?  A saint?  A Christian?

In truth, if you are a disciple, you are by definition a saint; and if you are a saint, you cannot help but be a Christian.  So why did the simple statement “Christians were first called disciples” shock so many believers today?  What does that reveal about us?

Is that normal?  If the majority insists on something, does it become the standard?  Even if it contradicts Jesus?  Must we accept that?

Someone asked him, “Lord, are only a few people going to be saved?”

He said to them, “Make every effort to enter through the narrow door, because many, I tell you, will try to enter and will not be able to.”

—Luke 13:23–24 (NIV)

J.O.Y.

I found this in an old children’s Sunday‑school curriculum: J.O.Y. teaches that God’s joy comes when we set the priorities of our lives in the order of J, O, Y:

1. Jesus first

2. Others second

3. You last

This is the standard God gives us throughout Scripture: “God – community – myself and family.”

The whole Bible commands us with all our strength to love God first, and Jesus Himself taught that our love for our brothers and sisters—the community—expresses our love for God:

“And we have this command from him: Whoever loves God must also love their brother and sister.”

—1 John 4:21 (NIV)

In fact, J and O are so intertwined that there really is no distinction in rank between them.

Through history, faithful Christians have taken this so for granted that they taught it even to children.  But what about today?  Among those who call themselves Christians, how many truly honor Jesus’ command and this divine ordering?

In our day, if you emphasize J‑O‑Y in that sequence, might someone think, “What’s wrong with that pastor?  Isn’t loving Jesus first enough?  What kind of church is this?”

Here’s the truth: if your life’s priorities aren’t J‑O‑Y, then no matter what you claim, you and your family—“Y”—will always come first.

God’s J.O.Y.—His delight—fills that place when we lay aside selfishness.  From there it overflows forever.  That infinite void nothing else could satisfy is filled when God delights in us.

For Barnabas, the joy of giving up his field paled beside the joy of meeting his suffering brothers’ needs—and the infinite joy it brought to God.

That is the joy of a disciple, the joy of a saint, the joy Jesus promised to every Christian.

Joy Is an Inheritance

I have a Mongolian disciple named Khulan, a high‑school senior. Three years ago, she and her mother came to our mission team, saying she desperately wanted to learn English. Every Thursday morning since then, I’ve been helping her with English—even though I’m neither a certified teacher nor particularly skilled, and even though I’m busy with other responsibilities.

Yet none of that stopped me from saying, “Sure—let’s do it!”

Over the years our lessons haven’t always gone smoothly.  She’s had cell‑phone problems and slow internet.  In summer, her family’s rural traditions meant months without classes.  Other Mongolian students joined at first but dropped out for various reasons.  Only Khulan stuck with it, faithfully doing her homework and staying focused on my imperfect teaching.

At first, we could barely communicate.  She imitated native speakers and practiced pronunciation.  Now she can hold basic conversations and even writes English journal entries.

Last week, at the end of our lesson, she surprised me by asking for a recommendation: “Please give me a good song—Jesus song, not just a pop song.”  My heart leapt.  Khulan’s family doesn’t attend church, and though I always began class with a hymn and a prayer, I hadn’t pressed my faith on her.  Early on, we couldn’t even communicate the gospel in English.

But over time she’s shared prayer requests, and her journal entries hinted at an open heart toward God.  Now she was asking me for a worship song.  I immediately had her install an English Bible app and assigned John 1 as her next reading.  She agreed without hesitation.

As we closed in prayer, tears welled in my eyes—tears of JOY overflowing.

Nothing we offer for the Lord’s sake is ever wasted.  He multiplies our small gifts thirty‑, sixty‑, even a hundred‑fold.

Barnabas’s name means “son of encouragement,” “son of consolation.”  I want to be a Barnabas—to each of you, to our community—because that’s how I become a Barnabas to the Lord.  And the abundant joy that flows back will bless me and my family more than anything else.

Even when the world and our flesh pull us toward the easy, wide road, remember the order of JOY:

1. Jesus first

2. Others second

3. You (yourself and family) last

This is God’s order—the priority for a life filled with His infinite joy.

Are you a disciple?  A saint?  A Christian?  Then join in God’s JOY.  Arrange your life in that order.  It’s not merely an option; it’s the only path to true joy.

Filling your heart with anything else only creates a deeper void.  Haven’t we all tried?  Marriage, children, travel, career advancement, a bigger salary—none of it satisfies unless you first become a source of joy to the Lord.  Then you can rightly enjoy those blessings and make them gifts to one another.

So why keep pouring your energy into temporary fillers?  Why believe they’ll satisfy?

Fill your worship and daily life in the J‑O‑Y order.  Like Barnabas, do what needs doing for the Lord and the community simply because “you can.”

Jesus didn’t seek crowds—He sought disciples like Barnabas: believers who encourage one another, who build up the church in God’s joy.  Let’s dream together of a community strengthened by saints filled with divine joy and a growing number of true disciples.

God, who spoke to us today and gave us this desire, will surely bring it to pass as we obey.

Let’s pray.