Can you imagine what it’s like being a recently hired employee of a large company like Microsoft? There are thousands of people in the organi­sation, some of whom have been there with Bill Gates from the very beginning. But not you. You’re a new boy on the block. You don’t know the boss personally. You’ll probably never even get to see him.

From the very first day on the job, you’re impressed with the way Microsoft does things. You enjoy the pleasant work environment, the emphasis on teamwork and the energy and creativity that go with computers. In fact, you’re so switched on by the company that you go and buy Bill Gates’ autobiography and a number of books about him.

You read company manuals that are written by him, you applaud him at com­pany meetings, but sadly you never see him. You never meet him at a lift entrance; he never visits your office. You feel as though you know the guy really well, but there are other days when you wonder whether he exists at all. After all, you’ve never set eyes on him. And he’s never writ­ten you a personal letter or spoken to you on the phone.

The experience of some who work for very high-profile entrepreneurs like Bill Gates is similar to the spiritual experience of many Christians. We can know a lot about the boss we work for, but actually meeting him and developing a personal friendship with him is something that we write-off as an impossibility. We figure that knowing our hero from a distance is about as good as it gets.

But should it be this way? Recently, I began reading Martin Gilbert’s monumen­tal biography of Sir Winston Churchill. Gilbert is a masterful story-teller who is able to recreate scene after scene in Churchill’s many-sided life with such real­ity that you often feel as though you were there. I still have vivid memories of the defiant and cigar-chomping statesman throwing down the gauntlet to Hitler. I feel that I have a sense of the inner-workings of his mind. But a personal relationship with him? Sadly, no. Even if he were still alive, I could only know him from a distance.

However, this is not the case with Christ. We can know Jesus personally. The Gospels differ from other biographies such as those on Churchill because they are not simply the account of a long-dead hero. Each of them concludes, not with a death­bed scene, but with a resurrection appearance. Matthew’s Gospel, for instance, closes with this astounding statement: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt 28:20). It’s hard, therefore, to speak of the Gospels as Jesus’ memoirs or remains. After all, he’s still alive and present with us.

In this sense, the Gospels function dif­ferently from other biographies. They are not simply a record of what a famous man once did and thought, they are also an invi­tation and the means by which we can begin a relationship with him.

When I pick up Gilbert’s work on Churchill, I feel a sense of sadness that the world has lost such a far-sighted and penetrating visionary. Churchill’s death spelt the end of his presence and his service to others. None of us, not even his biographer, can maintain a personal and living fellowship with him now.

But with Jesus it’s different. I can pick up the Gospels — concluding as they do with the remarkable promise, “I am with you always” — and become immediately aware of his pres­ence. This is the story of one who was “dead but is now alive forever and ever” (Rev 1:18). He never changes. He is “the same yesterday, today and forever” (Heb 13:8).

In other words, here in the Gospels I am given a personal introduction to the Chief. As I read the Gospels, I am not simply deal­ing with events which are long past and gone. Christ is with me helping me enter into the experiences that are recorded here so they are no longer dead history for me. Everything becomes alive because Christ has sent the Holy Spirit to remain with me for­ever. He dwells in me and with me so that I experience Jesus’ presence continually (John 14:16, 17).

In this sense, being a Christian is far more than believing a creed or following a code. It goes beyond having “a worldview”. Ultimately it’s about fellowship with Christ, “to know him, the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his suffer­ings” (Phil 3:10).

It took me some time to come to grips with this perspective. I suppose that one of the reasons for this was that I am a commit­ted evangelical who believes in the blood atonement of Christ. One of the truths that is precious to me is the doctrine of the fin­ished work of Christ. This is the teaching that Christ’s saving work was completed in his death and resurrection. Nothing further can be done to remove my sin (Heb 10:10, 12).

In this sense, the phrase “the finished work of Christ” is a useful one to protect an impor­tant truth. But it very subtly coloured my thinking to think of Jesus as a hero who has now retired from the scene. And nothing could be further from the truth. He is still alive, still active and still involved in his unfin­ished business. I learned this from Luke.

Some years ago I was reading the Book of Acts and I tripped over the very first verse: “In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus began to do and to teach until the day he was taken up to heaven” (1:1). The word began started to trouble me. Why did Luke include it? Why didn’t he begin with a past tense: “In my former book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught”? Surely Jesus had finished all his work, hadn’t he?

I checked up the text. There was no ques­tion that Luke intended began to be there. It was emphatic. Obviously Jesus hadn’t retired from the scene at all. The Commander-in­-Chief was on the battle-field directing opera­tions. He’s still alive.

Slowly it began to dawn on me how utterly different Christianity was to every other world religion. Confucius, Buddha and Mohammed all ceased to take an active role in their religious movements when they died. Luke says that the death-resurrection-ascen­sion of Jesus was only the beginning of his work in rescuing God’s lost children. In other words, the promise that Jesus will be present with us is as good today as it was in the first century. He is still actively gathering in his people.

I have a hunch that this view of Acts — that it’s the account of the living Christ building his church — explains the relationship of the beginning of the book to its end. At the start Luke announces that Acts is the ongoing story of Jesus’ teaching and deeds. When he concludes, he leaves us with a scene of Paul under house arrest in Rome preaching and teaching the gospel. The end seems abrupt, almost as though it’s been sawn-off. We are given no details about what happened to Paul. Did he ever reach Spain? How did he die? Luke is silent and deliberately so. Acts is not about the lives of the apostles. Its focus is on the ongoing work of the contemporary Christ. The story is never-ending.

I felt confirmed in my new understanding of the book as I read on. I began to see at every point how Jesus is the principal actor in each episode. Luke seems to refer everything to the living Christ. For instance, when the church is forced to find a replacement for Judas among the apostles, they pray to Jesus: “Lord, show us which of these two you have chosen” (1:24). Of course, “Lord” could refer to God the Father. But it is more likely a reference to Jesus because the words “you have chosen” recall the fact that it was he who chose the Twelve.

Again, when Peter takes the opportunity to explain the strange happenings at Pentecost, he tells the crowd that it was Jesus who was behind the coming of the Spirit: “Exalted to the right hand of God, he has received from the Father the promised Holy Spirit and has poured out what you now see and hear” (2:33). And as new converts are gathered into the church after the sermon, Luke tells us that “the Lord added to their number daily those who were being saved” (2:47).

Days later Jesus demonstrates his pres­ence again in the Temple by healing the crip­pled beggar. Peter disavows any special power or godliness as the cause for the man’s recovery. Rather “it is Jesus’ name and the faith that comes through him that has given this complete healing to him” (3:16). Although unseen, Jesus’ presence is power­ful and active.

This is especially so in the account of Stephen, and then of Saul. As Stephen dies, he sees Jesus standing to receive him into heaven and calls out to him (7:55, 56, 59). Likewise in the story of Saul’s conversion on the Damascus road, Jesus confronts him with a personal appearance. “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” “Who are you?” Saul asks. “I am Jesus whom you are persecuting,” he replied (9:4, 5). Three days later Jesus appeared to Ananias and gave him specific instructions about caring for Saul (9:10-15).

The list of Jesus’ activities goes on and on. He heals Aeneas (9:34) and opens Lydia’s heart to the gospel (16:14). There seems to be nothing that he cannot and does not do to advance the gospel. Everywhere in the Book of Acts Jesus appears as the one pulling the strings and making it all happen. He works miracles and confirms his work. The apostles and others are tools in his hands. The Book of Acts underscores the fact that we are dealing with a living Christ and not a dead hero or cult-figure. This ought to be a chal­lenge to our conception of the Christian faith and leads me to reflect on two consequences:

First, it challenges me to examine the nature of my faith. Do I believe that Christianity is essen­tially a personal and living relationship with Jesus Christ? As I have re-read the New Testament, I have been struck by how far removed faith in Jesus is from formal and lifeless religion. Christ’s great object is to dwell in the believer’s heart. Listen to his repeated statements:

I will not leave you as orphans, I will come to you. John 14:18

If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit. John 15:5

Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me. Rev 3:20

Indeed, Paul prays for the Ephesians that “Christ may dwell in your hearts by faith” (Eph. 3:17). Unless our Christianity consists of a growing relationship and love for Jesus, we have missed the mark. It is not enough to believe a creed and follow a code in order to call yourself a Christian.

Second, we must never be discouraged about the state of the church. Peter and Paul are both dead. So are great churchmen like Athanasius, Augustine, Luther and Calvin. The deaths of great men and their removal from the scene should not trouble us. Why? Because Jesus lives. If the Book of Acts was the history of Peter and Paul it would end on a gloomy note with Paul in prison. But as the story of the continuing work of the risen Christ, it is an inspiration to press on even though we are living in a dark age and a day of small things. For even when the forces of evil surround us, we can lay hold of Christ’s promise “Surely I am with you, even to the end of the age” (Matt 28:20).