2026.06.07 | Faces of Our Faith: Eutychu

 “Faces of Our Faith: Eutychus”
Acts 20:7–12 
Preached by 
Rev. Dr. Marvin Lance Wiser
Eden United Church of Christ  
Cherryland, CA 
07 June 2026

The first half of summer, we're beginning a new series called "Faces of Our Faith: Bold and Untold Stories." When people think of the Bible, they usually think of the headliners: Moses, David, Peter, Paul, and Mary—see what I did there?—and Jesus. The big names. The ones who get the stained glass windows.

But if you actually read Scripture, you discover that God seems to have a particular affection for ordinary people. People who appear for only a few verses. People who never preach a sermon or never perform a miracle.

A servant girl. A widow with two coins. A boy with five loaves and two fish. A nameless woman who reaches out and touches the hem of Jesus' garment. They often show up for just a moment. And yet without them, the story itself would be different, lacking even. 

I think that's important because sometimes we imagine that faithfulness belongs to the extraordinary. We tell ourselves, "I'm not a pastor. I'm not a theologian. I'm not a saint. I'm just an ordinary person trying to live a good life."

But the good news of Scripture is that God has always been in the business of working through ordinary people. The kingdom of God is built not only by famous leaders, but by everyday acts of courage, kindness, persistence, hospitality, and hope. We are a priesthood of all believers.

In fact, if the Bible teaches us anything, it is that there really are no "minor" characters. There are only people whose stories we have not paid enough attention to.

Cuando pensamos en la Biblia, pensamos en los protagonistas principales: Moisés, David, Pedro, Pablo, María y Jesús; los grandes nombres.

Pero si realmente leemos las Escrituras, descubrimos que Dios tiene una manera especial de obrar a través de personas comunes. Una joven sirvienta. Una viuda con dos monedas. Un niño con cinco panes y dos peces. Una mujer sin nombre que extiende la mano para tocar el manto de Jesús. Puede que aparezcan solo por un instante, pero sin ellos, la historia sería diferente.

Y tal vez eso sea una buena noticia para nosotros. Porque a veces pensamos que la fidelidad es algo propio de lo extraordinario. Sin embargo, una y otra vez, Dios obra a través de personas comunes y de actos cotidianos de valentía, bondad y esperanza.

Quizás no existan realmente personajes «secundarios» en la historia de Dios, sino solo personas a cuyas historias no hemos prestado suficiente atención.

And this brings us to today's character: Eutychus. Now, poor Eutychus has gone down in history as "the kid who fell asleep during Paul's sermon." Some of you may remember my sermon last week on Babel and translation. It may have gone just a little longer than I intended. Thankfully, I don't think anyone fell asleep... or at least, if you did, you had the good sense not to sit by an open window.

It is a humorous story. Paul is preaching late into the night. The lamps are burning. The room is crowded. A young man sitting in the window gets sleepy, nods off, falls three stories, and dies. Paul rushes downstairs, embraces him, and his life is restored. True to his name: Lucky! Then—and this is my favorite part—they all go back upstairs, break bread together, and Paul keeps talking until dawn! I guess they were holding out for breakfast. 

This story has immediate application. As part of our newly adopted Injury and Illness Prevention Plan, or IIPP, we've identified "falls induced by extensive preaching" as an unacceptable workplace hazard. So one of the reasons we're trying this new format of shorter reflections by the pastors coupled with testimonies is simply good risk management in the interest of congregational safety. Consider this our official Eutychus Prevention Program or EPP.

All silliness aside, preachers have often used this story as a warning: "Don't fall asleep in church." But I wonder if that's missing the point. I actually think we've been a little unfair to Eutychus.

Because the point of this story isn't that someone fell asleep in church. The point is that he showed up. After what was probably a long day's work, he climbed up into that crowded upper room because he wanted to be part of the community. And when he fell, the community gathered around him and refused to leave him there.

His story reminds us that faith communities are filled with tired people. People carrying burdens. People trying their best. And the miracle is not that Eutychus fell. The miracle is that when he fell, the community gathered around him and refused to leave him there.

The church at its best is a place where we catch one another when life knocks us down, where exhaustion is met with compassion instead of judgment, and where ordinary people discover that their stories matter.

Because the truth is, every one of us is somebody else's Eutychus, and every one of us is called to be the community that helps another person rise. As it is with our Eden Scholars and those graduates we are celebrating today during our Bravo Sunday fellowship—it is our joy to help you soar.

And that's why, throughout this series, we're pairing these biblical stories with stories from our own congregation. Because the same Spirit that worked through those seemingly "minor" characters is still at work today—in the lives of ordinary people who, through simple acts of faithfulness, help change the world.

Y eso nos lleva al personaje de hoy: Eutico. Al pobre Eutico se le recuerda principalmente como el joven que se quedó dormido durante el sermón de Pablo. Quizás algunos recuerden mi sermón de la semana pasada sobre Babel y la traducción. Puede que se alargara un poco más de lo que yo pretendía. Afortunadamente, no creo que nadie se quedara dormido... o, al menos, si alguien lo hizo, tuvo el buen juicio de no sentarse junto a una ventana abierta.

Pero creo que hemos sido un poco injustos con Eutico. La cosa más importante de la historia no es que alguien se quedara dormido en la iglesia. Lo importante es que él asistió. Tras lo que probablemente fue un largo día de trabajo, subió a aquella sala porque quería ser parte de la comunidad. Y cuando cayó, la comunidad se reunió a su alrededor y se negó a dejarlo allí abandonado. Quizás ese sea el milagro, que no se quedó solo cuando se cayó.

Porque la iglesia está llena de personas cansadas que cargan con sus propias penas y hacen lo mejor que pueden. En su mejor versión, la iglesia es un lugar donde nos ayudamos mutuamente a levantarnos. Por eso hoy celebramos a nuestros becarios y graduados.

The Bible isn't finished when the book of Acts ends. The Spirit keeps writing new stories through ordinary people. Never place a period where God places a comma, right? So today, we're going to hear stories of faith from our own community. And to get us all teed up, I’m gonna go first: 

I took “faces of faith” quite literally. I didn’t settle on any one of the many folks who have informed my faith journey, but rather an entire people. 

At the very end of the millennium, near the end of my high school days in southern middle Tennessee on the Alabama border, and before heading out into the great unknown, crossing the mighty Mississippi for university, I embarked on a short-term mission trip to Honduras. Yes, that’s me in the cut-off muscle-shirt at the end, showing off my gains from stacking lumber—we all make mistakes, folks.

Like a lot of mission trips back then, I arrived believing that I was going to bring Christ to the people there. But by the end of the trip, I realized something quite different. It was they who had shared the Spirit of Christ with me.

Cerca del final de mis años de preparatoria, antes de ir a la Universidad, realicé un viaje misionero de corto plazo a Honduras. Y sí, ese soy yo en la foto, usando la camiseta sin mangas.

Como en muchos viajes misioneros de aquel entonces, creí que estaba llevando a Cristo a la gente de allí. Pero al final del viaje me di cuenta de algo muy diferente. Fueron ellos quienes habían compartido conmigo el Espíritu de Cristo.

In particular, I remember our bus driver. I wish I could remember his name. After all these years, I can't. In some ways, he's exactly the kind of person this series is about—not a famous biblical hero, not a church leader, just an ordinary person whose faith quietly changed someone else's life.

Recuerdo especialmente a nuestro conductor de camión. No puedo recordar su nombre después de tantos años. En cierto modo, él es justo el tipo de persona de la que trata esta serie: no es famoso, solo una persona común cuya fe, discretamente, cambió la vida de alguien más.

Just a couple of years before we arrived, Hurricane Mitch, one of the deadliest Atlantic Hurricanes, had devastated Honduras. Many people had lost homes, livelihoods, and family members. Mitch claimed more than 11,000 lives. Yet every morning, this bus driver greeted us with joy. He sang. He laughed. He spoke about God's goodness with a sincerity that was impossible to miss. 

Apenas un par de años antes de que llegáramos, el huracán Mitch había devastado Honduras. Miles de personas habían perdido sus hogares, sus medios de vida y a sus seres queridos. Sin embargo, cada mañana, aquel conductor de autobús nos saludaba con alegría. Cantaba. Reía. Y hablaba de la bondad de Dios con una sinceridad que jamás he olvidado.

And I realized that I wasn't there simply to help, although that we did. I was there to be transformed myself. For a young white American boy from the South, seeing joy instead of anger, laughter in the midst of sorrow, culture upholding community, it was transformational. He was sharing the goodness of God. 

Y me di cuenta de que no estaba allí simplemente para ayudar, aunque eso sí lo hicimos. Estaba allí para transformarme yo mismo. Para un joven estadounidense blanco, ver alegría en lugar de ira, risas en medio del dolor y una cultura que fortalecía a la comunidad resultó transformador. Él estaba compartiendo la bondad de Dios.

That experience 26 years ago planted two seeds in me. It was there that I first fell in love with Latin American culture. And it was there that my understanding of mission began to change—from a model of charity, where one person gives and another receives, to what I would now call a ministry of mutual presence. A recognition that God is already at work in every community, and that sometimes our calling is not to bring God somewhere, but to recognize that God has gotten there before us.

Aquella experiencia sembró dos semillas en mí. Fue allí donde me enamoré por primera vez de la cultura latinoamericana. Y fue allí donde mi concepto de la misión empezó a transformarse: pasé de la idea de llevar a Dios a los demás a descubrir que Dios ya estaba allí.

No recuerdo el nombre de aquel conductor de autobús, pero jamás he olvidado su testimonio. Quizás por eso hacemos esta serie: porque, en realidad, no existen personajes secundarios en la historia de la fe; solo hay personas comunes cuyo valor, alegría y fidelidad transforman la vida de los demás. Personas como Eutico. Personas como aquel conductor de autobús. Tal vez, incluso, personas como nosotros.

I don't remember that bus driver's name. But I have never forgotten his witness. And maybe that's exactly why we're doing this series. Because there really are no minor characters in the story of faith. There are simply ordinary people whose quiet acts of courage, joy, and faithfulness change the lives of others. Like Eutychus, like our bus driver, like those of you sitting in the pews today. So I encourage you, should Spirit move you to make a witness of faith to reach out to Pastor Brenda and sign-up for one of our Sunday slots. We’d be so blessed by your testimony. Amen.