What Was Stephen Seeing?

Acts 7:55-60

What was it that the apostle Stephen was seeing when he told that angry crowd, “Look, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God”? I’ve often wondered what sort of vision he was being granted as his life was about to end.

Stephen knew he was turning some screws a little too tight. What else was he going to do? He knew what needed to be said, and he seemed unafraid to say it. I still wonder what he was seeing.

It would easy to close our eyes and imagine the clouds parting just a bit, and suddenly a blinding ray of light appearing like after a storm and the sun peeking out. In fact, some might suggest that this is exactly what happened. Some suggest that Stephen didn’t really see Jesus at all, and we can’t say for sure that Stephen saw the Lord God Himself. Isn’t that kind of a stretch considering that John writes in the Gospel that “no one has seen God at any time”?

We have to remember also that Stephen never saw Jesus. Stephen’s time was after the Ascension. So what exactly was he looking at? Whatever it was, it overwhelmed him. It would seem that somehow he was looking at something, or SOMEONE, more glorious that anything he’d ever seen before. It was also such a vision that, as he was being literally beaten to death with rocks, he was still able to say, “Lord, forgive them.”

Do you ever wonder if you could ever be so gracious if you were being pelted with stones big enough to crush your head or break your bones? I don’t think this would be my first choice if I could choose the way I will leave this earth.

Still, Stephen had to have seen something, and he certainly must have known the risk he was taking. His message of redemption in Christ was still considered to be “blasphemous” according to the Law.

There is no way that a man, any man standing alone, could withstand such punishment. A normal person would be running for cover, cowering, instinctively covering himself in an effort to protect. It’s what any of us would do naturally without thinking. There are very few of us who would not flinch even just a tiny bit if we could see something flying toward our face! Still, Stephen must be seeing something pretty incredible.

Whatever it was, it is pretty clear in John’s Gospel that Philip wasn’t seeing the same thing. “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” And Jesus seems almost incredulous at this statement! “Philip, what, or WHO, do you think you’ve been looking at all this time?” It is clear by what is written that the disciples are still completely clueless about what is happening in their lives, in their society, in their culture, and in history at this particular time. They seem to be looking for something “bigger”.

Thomas, the ever-present “doubting” Thomas has missed the boat as well. “Lord, we do not know where You are going. How can we know the way?”

What is everyone missing that Stephen seems to see so clearly?

Is it possible that sometimes we try so hard to see something that we completely look past whatever it is we are truly seeking in search of something MUCH BIGGER? It could very well be that when we have a mental vision of our expectations, the reality is not quite up to where we WANT it to be. In other words, we have likely built up in our minds a vision on such a grand scale that when we are finally confronted with the truth, it’s just not as magnanimous as we had hoped.

It’s not unlike what I and so many others have done with high school and college algebra. Whenever I looked at a problem, the answer SEEMED simple enough but I wanted to know more about where this particular formula had come from. Maybe it was a fair question, but all it did was make the work harder than it needed to be. The answer was right in front of me, but I was somehow looking for something much bigger.

Philip and Thomas are both obviously looking and searching much more deeply than they need to. The truth of what they seek is standing right in front of them, and they don’t see it. Or they don't want to see it.

If God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit are all one and the same, how is it that Stephen was able to see and describe two distinct, and apparently individual, Beings, being “filled with the Holy Spirit”, as it is written in Acts? And if God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit are one and the same, how is it that Philip and Thomas were looking directly at the Son but could not see the Father?

We can get caught up in trying to discern for ourselves the doctrine of the Holy Trinity if we want. However, I think it would miss the point of what it is that each of these disciples were seeing, or NOT seeing, and why. Could it be as simple as the difference between what we would LIKE to see against what we NEED to see?

Stephen is looking death in the face; he’s about to die, and he knows it. After all, the punishment for blasphemy is death, and Stephen must surely know that his message is considered by many to be blasphemy. The Gospel, the GOOD NEWS, however, dictates that he hold nothing back. Stephen is not seeking anything for HIS OWN SAKE – he is trying to offer the GOOD NEWS of salvation for anyone who will listen. And he is among a very hostile crowd.

Philip and Thomas, on the other hand, seem to be more concerned with how what Jesus is saying will affect THEM. “Show us the Father, and WE will be satisfied.” “Lord, WE do not know where You are going. How can WE know the way?”

I don’t know about you, but this sounds pretty selfish, self-centered, and self-serving; at least, compared to Stephen and his situation. It seems to me that Philip and Thomas, and perhaps all the rest who are present, are more concerned with how all this affects THEM as a group or as individuals. There does not seem to be much thought as to how this will affect OTHERS outside the group, though an argument could be made that they are wondering how to share this message, I suppose.

Notice, also, that Philip and Thomas – and the rest – are in a relatively friendly environment. They are among like-minded friends. There is no danger for them in asking questions amongst themselves or freely speaking their minds.

To be fair, however, when we gather with friends and family, it is more likely that we are of one mind and not necessarily hostile toward others in that group nor do we feel threatened. If we felt any such threat at all, there is a good chance we just wouldn’t go. The decision not to go, however, would not likely be due to any sense of physical danger although I know of some family gatherings that ought to require armed security!

When we consider our calling as witnesses, however, how many of us can honestly say that we would willingly and voluntarily venture into hostile territory and into a hostile crowd? If you try to answer to yourself that you would not be afraid to do so, then my next question would then be, “Why then have you not done it?”

It is within our nature to survive. Our instincts are geared toward self-preservation. It’s just as I suggested about being stoned to death. How many do you know who would stand still for it? Not many, I would venture to say. I am pretty sure that I will not knowingly enter into “hostile” territory. Does this mean that I am afraid? Does it make me “smart”? Does this mean that I exercise good judgment?

These are things the WORLD would tell me. More specifically, these are things that WORLDLY Christians would tell me. “Why go in ASKING for trouble,” they would say.

But it might very well be that I would choose NOT to enter into hostile territory because I do not have the clear vision or sense of calling that Stephen had. This lack of clarity would explain why almost all the disciples abandoned Jesus when He was arrested.

There are vital ministries in which we do take care of one another. These ministries are relatively safe, and they are also necessary. Each of us needs some support from time to time, and there is no shame in asking for it or receiving it. Think about this, though: when was the last time you actually took a RISK for the sake of the Gospel? It’s easy to say that we are not all called to be missionaries. And I’ll grant you that those who serve as missionaries are a special breed, and my hat is off to them.

However, in celebrating the life and the calling of missionaries, are we simply using the “special calling” they seem to have as a means for excusing ourselves? And I’m not just talking about overseas missionaries; that need is indeed great. But is the need for the Gospel any less so in our own communities?

It seems to me that what we SEE – or NOT – will depend entirely on the risk we are willing to take for the cause of Christ.