In the book of Acts, we hear the story of a hero. Things have been getting increasingly dangerous for the fledgling little Christian community trying to be faithful to their crucified Lord. We’re in Jerusalem, and they had been warned not to preach Jesus as the Messiah. When they did anyway, the apostles were flogged and ordered not to speak the name of Jesus. But that didn’t work. They rejoiced that they were considered "worthy to suffer dishonor for the sake of the name," and they "did not cease to teach and proclaim Jesus as the Messiah." (Acts 5: 40-42).

It is during this volatile time that Stephen and six others are chosen to serve as deacons. "Hey, kid, Steve, you’re just starting out at this. You might want to consider chilling out. This sounds like a time for cooler heads to prevail, a time to let things settle down a bit, pick your battles, live to fight another day, don’t provoke a superior force, fly below the radar. Stevie, you be careful."

Sorry. Wrong guy. Stephen, "full of grace and power," does "great wonders and signs among the people. " So the opposition stand and argue with him, but they can’t withstand "the wisdom and the spirit" with which he speaks, so they trump up charges against him and drag him before the council, saying that he’s blasphemed against Moses and God (not true!), and that Jesus will change things. (Well, OK, that one’s true.) (Acts 6: 8-15).

And the high priest looks intently at him and asks, "Are these things so?" In response, Stephen gives what, for the Bible, is a very long speech. He begins with Abraham and recounts the history of God’s people: Joseph, slavery in Egypt, Moses, the burning bush, the Exodus, whining in the desert, worshipping other gods, coming into the Promised Land, building a temple and making an idol of it.

And then he stands there before the council, before the angry mob that dragged him there in this volatile time, and he finishes his speech by saying:

You stiff-necked people, uncircumcised in heart and ears, you are forever opposing the Holy Spirit, just as your ancestors used to do. Which of the prophets did your ancestors not persecute? They killed those who foretold the coming of the Righteous One, and now you have become his betrayers and murders. You are the ones that received the law ordained by angels, and yet you have not kept it. (Acts 7: 51-53, emphasis added).

Well, the mob is enraged. Stephen’s life hangs in the balance. He must plead for calm, or at least mercy. Sorry, wrong guy. He is filled with the Holy Spirit, and he says, "Look, I see the heavens opened and the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God." At that moment, with his life in the balance, he affirms his belief that Jesus is the Son of God.

All semblance of a legal proceeding is lost. They become a lynch mob and drag Stephen out to stone him. And he dies, the first Christian martyr. He dies a hero.

I’m going to tell you something that I’ve never told anyone before. I haven’t talked to Charlotte about this because I thought it would scare her, like I might be looking for burning buildings to run in to or something.

Here it is: I’ve thought for a long time about whether, if the situation presented itself, I would have the strength, the peace, the courage, to die for my faith, to be a martyr. And I don’t mean that this is something I’ve just fretted about in passing; I have, for a long time, wondered whether I would have what it takes to stand up and be willing to die for what I believe in.

Probably most of us have pondered that. What makes me odd is that for a long time, I have used that scenario as a secret test, as a way of trying to make myself a more faithful Christian. When I think about fear: would I be able to overcome it? The test is: would I be willing to die? When I think about God’s promise of life eternal: it’s easy enough to talk about, but would I be willing to die? Not to wait for death, we all have that coming, but to refuse to back down in the face of it, to refuse to buy more time? Would I be willing to die, like Stephen was willing to die?

I hope I would, but I think it would be arrogant of me to tell you that I know I would. If my memory from some thirty years ago serves me, in Life of Johnson, Boswell, says, "Dr. Johnson, I know a man who says he is not afraid to die." Johnson replies, "Put a gun to his head, and see if he shakes." Saying how we would act when faced with death is cheap and easy; I hope I could do it, die for my faith.

There’s not a lot of call for that around here. There is in many parts of the world. This week, Phil Sewell sent me a news report about a Pakistani man accused of desecrating the Koran, a favorite trumped-up charge against Christians. He was chased by a mob of 500 men. In desperation, he climbed a tree, and they shot him out of it.

Phil and Maureen, unfortunately, have many stories of Christian friends and relatives in Pakistan who live with the constant threat of death because of their faith — and yet they remain Christians. A few months ago, I met one of the Sewell’s friends, a man who had been marked for death in Pakistan because of his faith, had narrowly escaped a lynch mob, and had barely managed to get out of the country. He gave me a rug that is now in my office. When I embraced him and called him, "My brother in Christ," I felt very deeply that we should never say things like that lightly.

But, like I say, there’s not a lot of call for being willing to actually die for the faith around here. We are very fortunate. So what’s Stephen go to do with us? Maybe for us, the harder thing, harder than dying even, is to learn what being ready to die for the faith can teach us about living for the faith. So imagine a situation — a gunman, a dangerous protest, a fellow Christian who feels called by God to kill people who believe as you do — imagine a situation that would call upon you to die for your faith. And spend, oh, say . . . the rest of your life . . .getting ready for it.

What have we to learn about what we really cherish? What have we to learn about overcoming our fears? (Not, by the way about whether we will be afraid. I know I will shake if you put a gun to my head. That’s not really the test. Courage is not measured by whether you are afraid, but by what you do when you are afraid.)

What do our Christian heroes, who die at the hands of hatred and violence, teach us about how to live so as not to perpetuate hatred and violence? In the First Letter of Peter, in a passage we read last week, we are reminded that, "Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps." What was this example? "He committed no sin," the letter says, "and no deceit was in his mouth." What do you think of when you think of Christ committing no sin? Here’s what Peter’s letter says: "When he was abused, he did not return abuse: when he suffered, he did not threaten, but he entrusted himself to [God.]" (1 Pet. 2: 21-23).

And what about Stephen? He died as his hero died, with the words, "Lord, do not hold this sin against them" on his lips.

When we hear the story of our hero Stephen following in the steps of our hero Jesus, I think we are called to ask ourselves two very humbling, challenging, formative questions:

Am I prepared to die a hero for my faith?

And, perhaps harder for us:

Am I prepared to live a hero for my faith?