"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.

Truth Is, Psalms (And Life) Can Be Deceptively Complicated (II of II)

In my prior blog on this topic, I noodled over the seeming disparity between what King David wrote and what he did. I found the wide divergence amusing, but saw no evidence of a crime. It's just that mystery in life. We pray (and need to pray) for God's guidance and deliverance. But in practice we have to make decisions and do our level best to escape bad situations as best we can. More often than not, our own hot little feet have something to do with our freedom from bad situations.

But there's another little paradox hiding in the two Psalms I have been reading of late, and it's not hard to find in other Psalms, either. Here is an example:

Psalm 34: 21
Evil will slay the wicked;
    the foes of the righteous will be condemned.

The Psalms sometimes seem divorced from the ugly realities of the world we live in from day to day. The verse we just read does not easily square with basic political geopolitics. Vladimir Putin is an old man now, and he's been up to unspeakably evil things for decades. Assad has been ruling Syria since 2000, and in the intervening years has taken the entire country to hell; he is personally responsible for millions of refugees and hundreds of thousands of civilian deaths. Then we could talk about the multi-generational dynastic evils present in North Korea. And we can't forget Mugabe, a nonagenarian nutcase who has worked hard over the past forty years to transform the relatively stable and pleasant country of Zimbabwe into just another African nightmare.

With all due respect to the Psalms, sometimes the wicked have a great deal of staying power—and that is both a mystery and a disappointment. But the paradox that has my attention today lies the opposite direction. The seemingly abundant optimism we find prevalent in the Psalms can seem no less divorced from our day-to-day realities than the assurances that the lives of the wicked will be cut short.

Psalm 34: (excerpts)
I will glory in the Lord
    let the afflicted hear and rejoice.

I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
    he delivered me from all my fears.

This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
    he saved him out of all his troubles.

On first blush those words seem awfully optimistic, don't they? Great stuff if you're in a chipper mood and life is good. But when life has served you lemonade, verses like these can leave you wondering, "When will these promises apply to me?" Sometimes the promises we find in portions of the Psalms don't seem to have played out as advertised in our own lives, and that, too, is both a mystery and a disappointment.

Now these are not new insights, and I'd wager most anyone who has spent more than a passing glance with the Psalms has wondered about such things. But what I keep thinking after further reflection is this... That optimism? It really ain't that optimistic. There are hints of what I'm talking about in the verses we've seen already, but let's look at a few more verses from Psalm 34 before I elaborate on this thought.

Psalm 34: (more excerpts)
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
    and he delivers them.

The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
    and his ears are attentive to their cry;

The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
    he delivers them from all their troubles.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The righteous person may have many troubles,
    but the Lord delivers him from them all;

The Lord will rescue his servants;
    no one who takes refuge in him will be condemned.

Now what we've read so far can seem awfully optimistic, but that's only because we're (or at least I have been) focusing on the promise. Take a moment and review the premise.

When you get delivered? That's because you were a captive.

When the righteous cry out? It's because they're in distress.

When you get saved from your troubles? That's because you had them.

One doesn't become brokenhearted without experiencing heartache.

Are you crushed in spirit? That means you've been through hard times. A lot of them.

Have you seen many troubles? Well, that is the heart of the matter, isn't it? Many troubles. We could find many more verses just like these listed here. On and on it goes.

King David, who wrote this Psalm, is describing anything but the Utopian ideal that some Psalms seem to falsely promise. Utopian ideal? Hardly. Some Psalms are more optimistic than others, but this one, that on the face of it is rather upbeat... it's really an encouragement to those who have been put through the wringer. Several times.

Speaking for myself, that is encouraging. Something I can relate to. God has been with me, and God has been gracious to me. But my life has not been one long joyride. Along with David, I have seen many troubles. And God has (as David's Psalm promised) seen me through them all. I know that I will eventually face death and before that perhaps some trials that I will never fully recover from. Anyone with two eyes knows that these things do happen to both godly people as well as to the unrighteous.

But I have seen the lives of the wicked, and I'm not jealous. Assad, Mugabe, Putin and a host of less well-known evildoers may still walk this earth, but I don't envy their lives, and I am not sure they should rightly be described as alive. I think the Psalmist isn't off the mark with these men. Evil has slayed most of the humanity within them.

How wonderful, rather, to plod along with the righteous through my difficulties (both petty and profound), knowing that God, who loves me, is watching me and with me. Even when I struggle.

And one day I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Strength For Today

Sometimes I ask God to help me to never again fall into sin. Never again commit the same sin.

Strangely, that prayer has never been answered. Or not so strangely. For I, like most humans I know, am human. I am frail.

This past Sunday as I wrestled with personal disappointment over my own frailty, I found myself asking God for help not for the next forty years, but for the next seven days. As the prayer was formed in my heart, I found myself encouraged.

God is big enough to help me for seven days. But when I seek forty years of perfection? I think I've been not asking God for help so much as I have been making God promises. Promises I cannot keep. I know I cannot keep such promises because I've made them on a series of occasions that stretch back for decades. I have shown God that I am not faithful.

But over the next seven days, I have a feeling that God is going to show me that He Is Faithful.

And in seven days we can do that prayer again.

Truth Is, Psalms (And Life) Can Be Deceptively Complicated (I of II)

I've been studying Psalm 34 recently, and I found myself alternatively chuckling and reflecting on an odd dynamic to this Psalm that is hidden in plain sight.

Psalm 34: 4-10
I sought the Lord, and he answered me;
    he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant;
    their faces are never covered with shame.
This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
    he saved him out of all his troubles.
The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear him,
    and he delivers them.
Taste and see that the Lord is good;
    blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.
Fear the Lord, you his holy people,
    for those who fear him lack nothing.
The lions may grow weak and hungry,
    but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.

Now if this were an English class and we were to analyze the mood, the action, etc., I think it would be fair to say that the author finds God to be active and attentive to the pleas of his rather helpless charges down on Earth. Does that seem a fair assessment? Basically, if we want God's help, we should seek him, look to him, call to him, take refuge in him, and (for good measure) seek him again. And that's just what we see in verses 4 through 10.

Let's look at a few more verses...

Psalm 34: 11-13
Come, my children, listen to me;
    I will teach you the fear of the Lord.
Whoever of you loves life
    and desires to see many good days,
keep your tongue from evil
    and your lips from telling lies.

So the first rule of thumb for good living and a long life would appear to be truthfulness and a careful watch over your mouth. All well and good!

But here's where it gets just a bit silly. Run your eyes back to the top of this Psalm now and read the dedication.

Psalm 34
Of David. When he pretended to be insane before Abimelek, who drove him away, and he left.

So... David wrote this song after an event characterized by two things. First, David saved his own skin. Second, he did so by deceiving Abimelek.

Let that sink in for a bit.

So we have a Psalm that first celebrates how an active God gets helpless people out of tight spots, and then which proceeds to identify truthfulness as the key to having a long and good life. And who wrote it? A man who literally just saved his own life by means of a self-conceived, brilliantly executed, command-performance deception.

True, David might not have outright lied to Abimelek, but then again, maybe he did. Did he claim to be Napoleon? Abraham Lincoln? OK, maybe not those future personages, but perhaps Hammurabi? Did he say impossible things? Or did he just moan and froth at the mouth? We'll never know, but one thing David did not do is shoot straight with Abimelek. Far from it.

So what do we make of this curious dichotomy? I have no pat answers, but several questions come to mind.

When the Psalms exhort us to trust in God to save us... how does that play out with our active role in the matter?

When the Psalms exhort us to be truthful... when is it OK to fudge that commitment a wee bit. How much is a wee bit?

David has given us his answers. And maybe they're not perfectly right. Or maybe they are. For the record, I do see real value in that line, "Pray as if all depends upon God; act as if all depends upon you." It certainly seems fair to say that this was David's modus operandi, given what we've seen here. Where truth-telling is concerned, too, we all know that there are certain situations in life where it seems, before God, that deception is the best option we have out of a bad hand. Can anyone fault David for what he did to escape his predicament? Not me.

I find in this Psalm a reassuring reminder in the midst of my own daily dilemmas that life, even life as a child of God, is a complicated and murky business for us frail humans. God knows this, and, thankfully, is merciful. As the Psalm ends, it appears that David is comforting himself with the very same thought.

Psalm 34: 22
The Lord will rescue his servants;
    no one who takes refuge in him will be condemned.

(This reflection to be continued...)