Signs and Wonders
Like many of us in this extraordinary year, I have found myself at times taking refuge in small comforts and amusements. Of the many internet memes that have given me a much-needed laugh during the health and racial justice crises of 2020, my favorite contains a picture of a middle-aged woman, squinting intently through thick glasses, with the caption “This is me, looking outside my window, wondering what chapter of the Book of Revelation we’re going to do today.” Truly, these seem like apocalyptic times. From the global COVID-19 pandemic, to multiplied instances of racial injustice in our nation, to shattering economic losses and prolonged social disruption and isolation, seldom in living memory have we seen a year like this. Naturally, the people of God ask: “What is God up to?” “Is God still in control?” “Does God care about us?” “Does God care about me?” “How long, O Lord?” It seems, more than ever, we could use some signs and wonders—some reassurance that God is still there, and that he acts in power to rescue and save.
I was surprised to realize that the language of “signs and wonders” is not as widespread throughout the Bible as I thought. In the Hebrew Bible, according to the standard text, the phrase occurs only about eighteen times. Even in the New Testament, about half the instances are confined to the Book of Acts (nine times), with the rest scattered throughout the Gospels and Paul. These instances are instructive, however, and point toward a teaching of great hope for the people of God. There are three things I’ve noticed about signs and wonders that encourage me in this tumultuous year.
First, as obvious as this might sound, signs and wonders are from God. For example, the very first time they are mentioned in the Bible, it is God who says, “But I will harden Pharaoh’s heart, and I will multiply my signs and wonders in the land of Egypt.”[1] In other words, even though signs and wonders are often performed through God’s agents (e.g., Moses and Aaron or the Apostles), there is never any question that the power comes ultimately from God. For those of us influenced by the Charismatic or Pentecostal movements, this is a salutary reminder: there is no prayer, petition, or posture that can conjure up the power of God. While we can hope, and we can work, we are, on this score, jars of clay.[2] Whatever extraordinary power we might see must come from on high.
Second, signs and wonders always confirm God’s message and accompany its proclamation. It is with the ringing cry of “Let my people go” on his lips that Moses turns the staff into a serpent and the Nile into blood. In the New Testament, Peter’s plea that God would stretch forth His hand with signs and wonders comes right alongside a prayer that God’s servants would speak with boldness.[3] This point was brought home to me years ago in the mission field. Desperate to see some fruit in a difficult environment, often our little team would cry out for God to do something extraordinary. One day, a wise friend challenged us: were we willing to count the cost through bold proclamation to see the power of God released? This year, the cry for justice in our land comes to mind. Will we have the courage to speak out boldly for the grace of the gospel to transform hearts, systems, and institutions?
Third, the phenomenon of signs and wonders is always tied to God’s mighty acts of deliverance for His people. This is true of both great acts of deliverance in the Bible: the Exodus, and the Atonement: “The LORD brought us out of Egypt with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm, with a terrifying display of power, and with signs and wonders.”[4]Likewise, in the New Testament, it is of course Pentecost that ushers in the new age of the Spirit along with its signs and wonders.[5]
This raises an important question: Should we even expect to see such things in our day? On this, of course, opinions will vary. We are naturally wary, from our Western perspective, of reports of miracles. Still, as New Testament scholar Craig Keener points out in his magisterial Acts commentary, we should resist privileging our Western worldview. Speaking of the signs in Acts, Keener reminds us that “readers in many cultures (perhaps especially those least trained in Western paradigms) approach Luke’s reports of signs not as problems but as a model for ministry.”[6]
These three observations about signs and wonders lead to three points of application. First, we can proclaim. I have been struck, again and again throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, by how a certain narrative has become the go-to good news for so many. “It’s not about brands, it’s about people,” says one TV commercial. “Family” is the answer, says the wife of a celebrity who tragically succumbed to the virus. Community and family are no doubt parts of God’s good creation, to be cherished and enjoyed. Yet we must ask, how are these good news to the disenfranchised, the disconnected, the lonely? To grandparents unable to see their grandchildren, or churches unable to worship together? The Gospel gives a better story for coronavirus, for racial injustice, for economic hardship, for the church scattered. God has saved us from the greatest enemy, death,[7] has broken down the wall of separation between us,[8] and has given us greater joy than when their grain and new wine abound.[9]
Second, we can hope. It would be tempting, at this point in an article such as this one, to temper expectations; to write of the miracle of the ordinary, and the supernatural in the everyday. While I am not immune to the force of such thoughts, I will nevertheless resist the temptation. I share the view of C. S. Lewis, who once opined that “we ought all of us to be ashamed of not performing miracles and that we do not feel this shame enough. We regard our own state as normal and theurgy as exceptional, whereas we ought perhaps to regard the worker of miracles, however rare, as the true Christian norm and ourselves as spiritual cripples.”[10] Even in a year of soul-crushing disappointments, I still believe that God can show up in extraordinary ways.
Finally, we can act. It is so easy to feel helpless these days, to think that our meager efforts could never affect change, could never bring about true justice, could never bring healing and release the power of God. Perhaps we need to just start moving.
An old friend of mine, a tree-cutter in his younger days, tells of a simple yet powerful lesson he learned in the course of plying his trade. The worst part of a tree job, he says, is the cleanup. By the end of the day, the fun part is over. The chainsaw and the ropes are laid aside. It’s late. You’re exhausted, and you stand awash in a seemingly endless sea of leaves, chips, and arboreal detritus. He muses that he used to spend hours just staring around, paralyzed by inaction. Then one day, an idea struck him: “Just make a circle.” And so, standing right where he was, rake in hand, he would begin to rake up the debris that lay nearest, making a neat little circle around his feet. “That’s not too hard!” he figured. Then, by moving a few steps away and repeating the process, he realized that in just a few minutes, with a modicum of effort, he had two things of inestimable value: green grass, and hope. Before long, following this method, the job is done.
While none of us alone has the answers to the immense challenges we face this year, we can overcome the paralysis of inaction by doing the small duties that lie nearest, making circles of blessing, and praying for God to move in power as we do. Above all this year, I have been reminded that I am not in control. And while I don’t presume to know “what chapter of the Book of Revelation we’re going to do today,” I cling to the hope that God does; that God will be faithful through it; and that God is able to move in power to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine.[11]
[1] Exod. 7:3
[2] 2 Cor. 4:7
[3] Acts 4:29–30
[4] Deut. 26:8
[5] Acts 2:16–24
[6] Craig S. Keener, Acts: An Exegetical Commentary: Introduction and 1:1–2:47 (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2012), 351.
[7] 1 Cor. 15:25–26
[8] Eph. 2:14–16
[9] Psalm 4:7
[10] C. S. Lewis, “Petitionary Prayer: A Problem without an Answer,” in Christian Reflections, ed. Walter Hooper (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1967), 150.
[11] Eph. 3:20
