"Turn Left." (God Said It First.)

I've been reading through the book of Acts recently, and this morning I found myself jotting an odd phrase down on a map in my Bible.

I wrote those words after reading this mysterious passage.

Acts 16:6-10
Paul and his companions traveled throughout the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been kept by the Holy Spirit from preaching the word in the province of Asia. When they came to the border of Mysia, they tried to enter Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus would not allow them to. So they passed by Mysia and went down to Troas. During the night Paul had a vision of a man of Macedonia standing and begging him, “Come over to Macedonia and help us.” After Paul had seen the vision, we got ready at once to leave for Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them.

You can see it on the map. Paul and his companions kept moving northwest from Antioch, prevented by circumstances (not elaborated upon) that kept them from turning toward a more easterly direction. We know that the Holy Spirit was behind those circumstances, but what exactly were they? Human hostilities? Bad weather? Travel practicalities? "The bridge was out?" We'll never know.

But one thing we do know: the problem became more pronounced (at least as I read it) as they approached the Sea of Marmara. Paul and his companions had reached a hard-stop T-Intersection and I am here to tell you, friends: They wanted to turn right.

But God would not let them.

It's almost humorous. The Holy Spirit weighs in first. The Spirit of Jesus himself seconds the motion. Unwillingly, it seems, they turn left. But God wants that left to be a big one, so God gives Paul a vision in the night so as to avoid all confusion. The message?

"TURN LEFT. LEFT! LEEEEEEEFFFFFT!"

This mysterious story invites many questions, almost all of which are beyond the scope of human wisdom to answer. One question does seem to be clearly answered, however. Was it important that these men, in that moment, turn left? Umm.... Yeah. Apparently it was. Apparently it was really, really, really important that they turn left. So they went to Macedonia instead of Asia.

But go ahead and ask that next question. Why was it was important that they go to Macedonia? We'll never know. We have no idea why God did not want them to go to Asia. We only know what happened because they went to Macedonia. Of course, the actions of these men were not the only inputs into the history that we now know. But ask any historian worth their salt and they'll tell you: Paul's missionary journeys impacted the course of human history in ways hard to exaggerate.

Perhaps now is a good time to explain my comment in the subject of this reflection: "God said it first." I added that because there is a false god named Dr. Who who inhabits a certain television series by the same name. At the end of the day, it's silly entertainment, but the series is written with intent, and the authors are not Christians. In fact, they are atheists, but they long for a good God, and Dr. Who is their version of him, best I can tell.

An episode titled "Turn Left" is perhaps one of the best-known of the episodes recorded in recent years. I don't want to be sucked into too many details on this, but in this episode a young woman is faced by a similar decision. Turn right? Or left? It turns out to be a decision that impacts not only the fate of Dr. Who but also the course of human history and the fate of the universe.

So there isn't too much at stake.

She turned left, as it works out, and that was good. The problem is, Dr. Who's enemies wanted the other outcome, and so the episode is largely devoted to watching Earth go to hell in a hand-basket (and Dr. Who die) because Dr. Who's enemies went back in time and arranged things so that the woman would instead turn right.

The happy ending to the episode (spoiler alert) is that someone gives up her own life and steps in front of a truck for the sole purpose of creating a traffic jam to the right, thus nudging our other heroine to, once again, turn instead (collective sigh of relief) to the left. History is set right again. (I am reminded of someone else who set history right by means of a sacrificial death. It seems that the atheists writing Dr. Who are searching for a suffering servant, too.)

At the end of the day, Dr. Who is just another TV show devoted to entertaining couch potatoes and, too often, yanking the rug out from underneath the gospel of Jesus Christ. But it's worth noting something. In Dr. Who episodes, we get to see what awful outcome has been averted. In real life, we don't have that luxury. That is sometimes frustrating, but the good news is that, while Dr. Who is not real, God is. And he can be trusted not merely with the outcomes that happen but also with those that did not.

We'll never know what didn't happen because Paul and his companions turned left. But we can trust that it was what God wanted. That's all we really need to know. The gospel of Jesus Christ is universally a good thing, but God did not call Paul to share the gospel in Asia. Period. God called Paul to spread the gospel in Macedonia instead.

This story should be of some comfort to those of us torn between two good things. God is sovereign. And he knows how to get us where we want us, not least if we are listening. And even if we're not hearing, God has a way of making himself heard. Paul was not a reprobate. No rebellious teen, he. No. Paul was a founding father of the global church, to the extent any human can make claim to the title that rightfully belongs to Jesus Christ alone.

If Paul needed multiple nudges from the Spirit of God and a vision to boot—all just to keep him from turning right—then we will need God's help too.

And by the evidence of this passage, I think it's safe to say that when we need God's guidance, we'll get it.

To be continued...

God-Spotting: Episode 4

I had just been to a men's breakfast (this morning) where our guest speaker shared a memory of noticing in his bank account (in the 1960s) he had about $2,000. He had been trusting in God to provide, but now that the money was there, he was starting to trust in the money.

No surprises where he went with this observation: We need to keep our trust in our eternal God on both occasions. When we have money. And when we don't.

I came home and was handling a bit of online banking and noted with satisfaction that there is money in the bank. I'll need it in the coming months. Looks to be a high-learning and low-earning moment in my life.

And then I remembered what that man had shared. Good reminder. Yes, Lord. Please, help me.

Then I turned to another browser tab to get some music playing for the day. Google Play was already in the middle of the song I had hit pause on the night prior. I don't know the songs that well by title, so as I hit play, I really had no idea what I'd hear, lyric-wise. As I did so, the thought entered my mind: "Could these lyrics confirm what I just was thinking?"

Temporary riches lie.

Those were the first words I could discern.

As is my wont, I became curious enough to go online and get the full lyrics. The song, titled All My Tears is from the band Jars of Clay. The song has nothing to say about wealth... except the section that I heard when I clicked the play button.

Gold and silver blind the eye
Temporary riches lie
Come and eat from Heaven's store
Come and drink and thirst no more

Thank you, Lord, for that gentle word. Thank you, Jars of Clay, for your prophetic ministry in music.

Choose Your Addiction Wisely

A friend of mine recently lamented in a blog post that he had recently "looked at [his] iPhone for easily the 300th time" that day.

I understand that addiction, because I have those same urges. It's part of our nature. The makers of our phone know all about it and have optimized the manipulation of those tendencies to their own ends. To the extent we succumb to their manipulations, we are slaves to both our phones and those who run them.

This morning I continued my reading of Henri Nouwen's book Reaching Out. Ironic title, is it not? When we reach for our phones we are reaching out. Reaching in hope of a hit of joy. The lit reward that indicates someone loves us. (That's the hope, anyway.) Reaching, reaching reaching. But the phone cannot deliver what we actually need.

But to return to the book, Nouwen spent several pages describing Hesychasm as it is described in yet another book, The Way of a Pilgrim. (More irony, since my pseudonym for this blog is Pilgrim!) Hesychasm is that practice of engaging in repetitive prayer. The book Nouwen discusses tells the tale of a Russian monk who walks great distances, all the while uttering the phrase, "Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy upon me, a sinner."

The juxtaposition of these two thoughts in my head, both recently imbibed, set my mind to wondering. My friend Pete was writing about the need to escape slavery, and he's right. I'd go on to add this additional suggestion. Escape that slavery to things of this earth by succumbing to a better slavery to the things of God.

For me, a small start toward that would be to utter that Hesychian prayer in those moments when I find I have the time to do either that or to glance at my phone. The reward for the latter is shallow, hollow, short-lived and leaves a metallic-tasting hangover. The reward to the former is a re-formed and re-energized mind and a heart focused on the kingdom of God. Not a bad trade.

My Problem With Jesus Is...

I heard a story the other day, and I can do no better justice than to tell it as I remember it.

So this professor at a Christian college is in the habit of starting off a course in theology by passing out a short survey. The questions are tailored to determine how the students perceive Jesus. What does Jesus believe? What's he like? How would he behave in various circumstances? What are Jesus's core values?

A few months into the course, the same professor then hands out another survey with entirely different questions designed to get a profile of the students themselves. Both surveys are gathering the same sort of information, but by means of different questions, so that students don't spot the linkage.

And when the two surveys are compared? Maybe you guessed it. Students reliably described themselves pretty much as they had described Jesus in the earlier survey. Yes, Jesus is introverted. No, he's extroverted! Monastic. No, he loved parties! A Democrat. No, a Republican! Etc. Etc.

In key attitudes and perspectives? Jesus is just like the person you've asked to describe him. According to that person, at any rate.

As the speaker recounting this anecdote noted, we Christians often pray that God would transform us ever more into the image of Christ. But in practice what happens is the exact opposite. We studiously transform Christ into our own image. And as a result, we probably think we're doing better, spiritually speaking, than we actually are. (Jesus and I see eye-to-eye on so many things!)

And that, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is my problem with Jesus: He looks way too much like me. To me.

The truth, of course, is that I don't look like Jesus. Not to Jesus, anyway.

Something here will have to give, and hopefully it's me. But how can I strive to be more like Jesus if I cannot break free from my preconceived notions of him—images of him that bear a striking resemblance to myself? Well, that thar is a bit of a problem, indeed!

Not to say we don't all know of areas where we have plenty of work to do. Patience. Grace. Forgiveness. Along these fault lines most of us are all too familiar with the ways in which we fall short of the standard-bearer Jesus Christ. But we have a fuller image of Jesus residing in our heads who's not merely sinless but also has strong opinions. What happens when we confront our constructed images of Jesus with the tougher questions?

• How much of my income should I give away?
• Should I just give to my church? How much should I send to Africa? How much to inner-city Americans?
• How much should I spend on my children's college tuition? How much on building elementary schools in faraway African towns?
• How much time should I devote to my children? How much time tutoring underprivileged kids?
• How much time should I spend reading the news? How much time studying scriptures?
• How much time should I spend watching TV and movies? Which ones are OK?
• Should I use corporal punishment with my children?
• Did Jesus tell the occasional dirty joke?
• Which political party should we vote for?
• When should I swallow injustices as good medicine for my soul? When do I seek justice through the court system?
• When do I confront someone with their wrong behavior? When (again) do I swallow the unkindness as humbling medicine for my proud soul?
• How much does Jesus care about the environment?
• How does Jesus feel about the way we treat the chickens that lay our eggs? What about chickens ones we eat?
• Should I buy used cars? Or new? How sporty?

What if, on the above questions, our go-to answer is not WWJD but rather WWID cloaked in WWJD gift-wrap? Uh-oh.

But here's another Uh-oh to lay next to the first. What if we don't even notice that the list of questions itself reflects our own fixations? The list I've thrown together here reveals my personal idiosyncrasies. When I pause and try to imagine another person's list, I can imagine a few questions that perhaps should be of concern to others but are of no concern to me:

• How much effort should I put into looking pretty each morning? Does Jesus want me to dress nicely?
• Should I get involved in running for office?
• Does Jesus want me to include XYZ corporation as my customer?
• How does Jesus feel about the gambling industry? Is it OK for me to go to Las Vegas occasionally?
• How does Jesus feel about cage fighting? Doing it? Watching it?

Suffice it to say, there are many important questions. Sadly, to the extent we answer them at all, we tend to answer them according to our own leanings, and not with the mind of Christ. And there are other questions that matter a great deal to God but which we haven't even bothered to think about just yet.

Yikes. That's not an attractive package, and I have no solutions or pat answers to this problem because it starts deep within you. Deep within me. But I do offer two closing thoughts in the form of a challenging question and a personal prayer.

The question: If Jesus got into an argument with you over something, what would it be about?

The prayer: Dear God, please transform me into the image of Jesus. The real one. Not the one my pampered soul wants and imagines.