Playing the Part

Read

Acts 4:36–5:2 "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. Now a man named Ananias, together with his wife Sapphira, also sold a piece of property. With his wife’s full knowledge he kept back part of the money for himself, but brought the rest and put it at the apostles’ feet."

Think

Luke sets up one of the sharpest contrasts in the entire New Testament, and he does it in just a few sentences. First, Barnabas, a Levite from Cyprus whose real name was Joseph. The apostles gave him a nickname: Barnabas, "son of encouragement." He sold a field he owned and brought the money and put it at the apostles’ feet. No conditions. No fanfare. No percentage held back. Barnabas gave because he had been given to. His generosity was an overflow of a transformed heart. Then, immediately, Luke introduces us to Ananias and Sapphira. Same external action. They sold property. They brought money to the apostles. From the outside, it looked identical to what Barnabas did. But the inside was a completely different story.

That contrast reminds me of something that happened to me in the second grade. I was living in Taylor, South Carolina, and my aunt brought me back a hippie necklace from London. Big, colorful, the kind of thing that would turn heads on a seven-year-old in a small Southern town. I wore it to school and my classmates immediately started asking questions. "Where did you get that?" And instead of saying, "My aunt brought it back from her trip," I said something that changed the course of my entire week. I said, "I went to London."

The reaction was everything I wanted. Kids crowded around me. They were fascinated. And then my teacher took it to another level. She said, "Why don’t you come up to the front of the class and tell us all about your trip to London?" So there I was, seven years old, standing in front of my classmates, fabricating an entire international trip. The food I ate. The buildings I saw. Details I pulled out of thin air. I was playing the part. And I was good at it. Until I was not.

That is exactly what Ananias and Sapphira did, on a far more serious stage. They watched Barnabas walk forward, lay his money down, and receive the admiration of the entire community. And they wanted that. They wanted that same reputation. They wanted to be known as the couple who gave it all. So they sold their property, kept back a portion for themselves, and brought the rest to the apostles as if it were the full amount. The sin was not in keeping some of the money. Peter will make that clear in verse four. The money was theirs. Nobody required the gift. They could have kept every penny. They could have given half and said, "Here is half." Nobody in the church would have judged them for it. The sin was in the performance. They wanted credit for a sacrifice they did not fully make.

I once said that some of us are such great actors and actresses we put Denzel Washington and Tom Hanks and Meryl Streep to shame. We know our lines. We know when to raise our hands in worship. We know the right answers in a small group. We have rehearsed the Christian part so thoroughly that sometimes we forget it is supposed to be our actual life, not a role we play on weekends. The difference between Barnabas and Ananias was not the size of the gift. It was the authenticity of the giver.

Here is the deal. Christianity is not about playing a part. It never has been. Jesus did not die on a cross so that we could put on a convincing performance at church and then live however we want the rest of the week. He died so that we could be transformed from the inside out. So that the person we are in the lobby is the same person we are in the living room. So that the generosity we display in public is an accurate reflection of the surrender happening in private. The moment we start performing for an audience other than God, we have already started down the same road Ananias and Sapphira walked. And that road only goes one direction.

Barnabas did not need a nickname. He earned one. The apostles looked at his life and said, "That guy encourages everyone around him." They did not give him that name because of one grand gesture. They gave it to him because his life matched his offering. His private reality matched his public reputation. That is what it looks like when faith is real.

I was seven years old, standing in front of my class in Taylor, South Carolina, describing a trip to London I never took. I remember the exact moment it fell apart. Someone asked me a question I could not answer. The performance crumbled. That is what happens with every performance eventually. It crumbles. The question for each of us is whether we will choose to come clean before it does.

Apply

Drop the script – Identify one area of your spiritual life where you are performing for others rather than surrendering to God. A prayer life that only shows up in public. A generosity that only appears when people are watching. Name it honestly before God today.

Pray

God, I confess that I have been performing. There are parts of my life where I want credit for a sacrifice I have not fully made. Forgive me for wanting the reputation of surrender without the reality of it. I do not want to play the part anymore. I want to be like Barnabas, not Ananias. Help me live the same life in private that I project in public. In Jesus’ name. Amen.