Treat. It. Like. The. Game. It. Is.

Those were my very own words.

I was hot. Angry, hot. My child was getting worked up about something or other that a sibling had said while we were all playing a game of street hockey.

The details? Ever so irrelevant. It was just another ridiculous case of one child giving the other no grace after the other child had said something that could have been taken in a good spirit... but which wasn't...

And on and on it goes.

So when my child started to gripe, and with a whining voice threaten to remove the pleasure from the game we were playing, I got hot. "DROP IT NOW..." I said with a raised voice, "And. Treat. It. Like. The. Game. It. Is." This child has learned not to mess with Dad when Dad moves into that tone of voice, so the game proceeded, and pretty soon we were back into fun mode.

One major reason why I get so frustrated is that there is so little at stake. When the game is over, we get on with the rest of the day. The rest of the week. The rest of life. Within a few short weeks, nobody will be able to recall the score, the people who made those goals, or the plays that led up to the goals. All will be lost to time.

We would hope, however, that the time we spent together would be remembered in a more fundamental sense for much, much longer. Let it be remembered that we loved each other. That we played games together.

But the score? The gentle ribbing? Sigh. Do my children not see how unimportant these things are in a game of no consequence?

Fast forward a day or two. I was driving home. A sunny day. Well fed. Healthy. Coming home to a good and nice home. With healthy children. A loving wife. The list of blessings? It could have gone for pages.

Yeah, but you know what I'm going to say next. Was I happy? Not so much. I was grumbling to God about a few things in my life that seemed quite wrong. Things that, in fact, are quite wrong.

But I didn't get too far before I remembered. I am not going to be on Earth forever. A day is coming when the things I wish were otherwise will be gone forever. These things will not concern me in eternity.

You'd think that thought would have given me comfort. But it didn't. "God!" I thought to myself as I drove, "That's why I need this fixed NOW. It won't matter when I'm dead."

So, yeah. I thought that little thought over a bit. And chuckled. I'm no better than my child. Unable to realize that the passing pleasures and blessings of this life cannot compare with what awaits us. Might I miss out on a few good things here on Earth? Most surely. I'm sure we all do. And yet here I am unwilling to take the longer view. Insisting to sit in my mud-puddle, lamenting things I won't miss in 50 years.

Oh, God. Please forgive this petulant child. I can be blessed now. I can enjoy this life, too. If I will but relinquish dwelling on my wounds, I can revel in God's blessings which far outweigh all else.

And when I have passed from this life? I can then dwell in your presence, knowing joys so beyond my present experience that no words could ever capture their essence. And I'll also see clearly in hindsight that, through every moment of the former life—even the dark valleys... Yes, Yes, even there—you were present with me then, too. Present with me then, too.

As I wrote the closing words to this post, I found myself becoming aware of the music playing gently in the background.

You are my shepherd there's nothing I shall want
Beside still waters You lead my spirit on
Your hand will guide me no matter where I walk
Through darkest valley Your love is not far off

I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on

I fear no evil, for You are with me
You set this table before my enemies
And You anoint me You overflow my cup
And they will follow me, Your goodness and Your love

I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on

Your rod and Your staff are a strange mercy
In a world where I'm not yet home
Your rod and Your staff are a strange mercy
In a world where I'm not yet home

I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on
And I will dwell in Your house forever
Lead me on

— Audrey Assad

When St. Paul Has A Hammer...

There is that old saying: If you have a hammer, everything around you starts to look like a nail.

It struck me recently that perhaps a biblical corollary can be spelled out along similar lines. When St. Paul has a point to hammer in, he can be pretty inventive in how he employs the use of various biblical (and even extra-biblical) texts as nails suitable to task. (So... that statement wasn't nearly as pithy or short, but there you have it.)

I should begin by asserting my personal belief that Paul, fallible as he was, was used by God to establish the worldwide Church. In this reflection I have no intention to suggest that Paul's letters are not to be trusted, much less to imply that they were not inspired by God.

Written by a human? Yes. Holy Scriptures? Also, Yes.

But that won't stop me from coming in with eyes wide open, willing to see a fallible and real man behind those inspired words. Moving on...

As modern understandings (based upon very reliable scientific advances) continue to chip away at the heart of the inerrantist view of the Genesis story, one thing that used to bother me suddenly does not bother me quite so much, anymore. I refer here to the story of The Fall. If Adam was not a literal, flesh-and-blood, particular individual, Paul's argument in Romans 5 start to look a bit shaky—at least, as I used to read it.

I've been reading through Romans recently and this conundrum hit me in the head again. But another thought introduced itself, and here I introduce another disclaimer: I'm not a theologian. I'm not even a particularly well-read lay wannabe theologian.

Plain English, please?

I mean to say here that I may be treading on shaky theological ground unawares. And on the other hand I may be on soil so well trod that it's packed down by the feet that have already gone this route. I'm not even sure which analogy is more appropriate. What I am sure of is this: the conservative response will no doubt be to suggest that I am not on soil, but rather quicksand. Meanwhile, the far left long ago abandoned theological terms like infallible and inerrant, so I'd guess they'll suggest I'm walking on a paved road. I feel, for myself, like Peter–trying to walk on water while keeping my eyes on the Lord. Never more than a moment away from starting to sink.

But let's move on. What do I wish to say here? It's this: I think that, in Romans 5, Paul latched upon Adam as a wonderful "nail" to hammer away at precisely because the point Paul wanted to make dealt directly with The Fall and with Jesus. Paul saw a beautiful sermon illustration waiting like low-hanging fruit: a comparison between Adam and Jesus. Both of them were, needless to say, "one man". This is not rocket science, but let's just look at the passage with that focus in mind....

Romans 5:12-19
Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned—
To be sure, sin was in the world before the law was given, but sin is not charged against anyone’s account where there is no law. Nevertheless, death reigned from the time of Adam to the time of Moses, even over those who did not sin by breaking a command, as did Adam, who is a pattern of the one to come.
But the gift is not like the trespass. For if the many died by the trespass of the one man, how much more did God’s grace and the gift that came by the grace of the one man, Jesus Christ, overflow to the many! Nor can the gift of God be compared with the result of one man’s sin: The judgment followed one sin and brought condemnation, but the gift followed many trespasses and brought justification. For if, by the trespass of the one man, death reigned through that one man, how much more will those who receive God’s abundant provision of grace and of the gift of righteousness reign in life through the one man, Jesus Christ!
Consequently, just as one trespass resulted in condemnation for all people, so also one righteous act resulted in justification and life for all people. For just as through the disobedience of the one man the many were made sinners, so also through the obedience of the one man the many will be made righteous.

Now needless to say, this is all terribly significant stuff. I'm not such a theological novice as to be unaware that a ton of Christian doctrine is pinned on this passage. I get that. But take a step back and look at it again. It wasn't Adam who introduced sin to the world, according to the Genesis account. If we're going to treat it inerrantly (which I don't), that honor goes to Eve.

Of course, of course! I know. I'm not the first to have noticed this. And there's going to be a work-around, to be sure. Adam as the representative. Adam as the one to whom the commandment was given.

Yada. Yada. Yada.

But wipe the excuses off the table, and we're back to the fact: It was Eve who first sinned. We, men and women, are equally sinful. Equally in need of God. Equally in Christ, our redeemer. And, according to Genesis, it was Eve who first sinned.

So why does Paul hammer away at Adam? My 2 cents? Because it suited his sermon illustration.

(I'm waiting for the lightning to strike.)

Seriously. Some theologian will tell me I'm pulling the pin out beneath a skyscraper, but I am not feeling it. Sin definitely came into the world. And Jesus leads the way out of the mess we made. But even as science chips away at any last notion that there was a first, single, "My name is Adam" individual, so too I am feeling that Romans 5 doesn't require it either. An inerrant approach to the topic should have used Eve in the first place. But Paul didn't.

And what led me to get this reflection down was the realization that St. Paul really did play a bit loose with his illustrations. After all, he said the same thing I just said. When? He did it when the sermon called for a woman.

1 Timothy 2:13-14
A woman should learn in quietness and full submission. I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became a sinner. But women will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith, love and holiness with propriety.

Oh, yeah, this passage causes a lot of heartburn, and for entirely other reasons that relate to gender equality and all of that. I'm not here to pick it apart for those reasons. I post it here to note the simple thing about it, and it's this: St. Paul had a point to make, and it suddenly became convenient to refer to Eve as the first sinner. In this passage, it is Eve who first introduces sin to the world. Can we just acknowledge that fact, together?

I'm probably trying to accomplish too much by throwing this next bit in, but I see (for myself, at least) a bit of the same free-wheeling "sermon-on-the-fly" approach in this next one, too...

Galatians 3:15-29 (excerpted)
Brothers and sisters, let me take an example from everyday life...
...The promises were spoken to Abraham and to his seed. Scripture does not say “and to seeds,” meaning many people, but “and to your seed,” meaning one person, who is Christ.
...What I mean is this...
...So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith... for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
... If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.

What I don't doubt or question is that by God's sovereignty, this passage is Holy Scriptures. But take a step back and also call it what it looks like: Paul moving fast as he shares "from the pulpit." One minute the seed is singular. And that's really important. Because it's Jesus. *NOT* a bunch of people. A moment later, it's plural. Because we are one with Christ. It *IS* a bunch of people. And for Paul's purposes, both are true, and I do get what he means. But he is having his seed cake and splitting it two. We can acknowledge that, can't we?

Or how about Jannes and Jambres?

2 Timothy 3:7-9
They are the kind who worm their way into homes and gain control over gullible women, who are loaded down with sins and are swayed by all kinds of evil desires, always learning but never able to come to a knowledge of the truth. Just as Jannes and Jambres opposed Moses, so also these teachers oppose the truth. They are men of depraved minds, who, as far as the faith is concerned, are rejected. But they will not get very far because, as in the case of those men, their folly will be clear to everyone.

Once again, we see Paul pulling out a sermon illustration, and as one able to relate to the common man, he uses known personages. Paul compares evil men that we as Christians should avoid to "Jannes and Jambres"–except that those names are not from the Old Testament. The names themselves are about as "factual" as the names of the three wise men that visited baby Jesus.

Don't know what I'm talking about? If so, you were probably raised in different Christian tradition—or perhaps a non-religious home. I didn't grow up with those names. To me they were just three wise men. But many Christians grew up knowing the names Balthasar (of Arabia), Melchior (of Persia), and Gaspar (of India). With all due respect, however, we don't know their names. (And isn't that convenient that these three individuals covered three distinct regions of the known earth??) There's absolutely no reason to assume those names (or place of origin) are accurate. There is no such information in the gospel account! And if out of four gospel accounts only Matthew notes them, it's not as if their names and their stories were commonly known. These extra details pop up (out of the blue) literally hundreds of years after Matthew penned his gospel. For hundreds of years, their names were not known. And then suddenly we know them. Right.... Sure....

[Editor's note: In point of fact, the astute reader may have noted that my reference to three wise men itself isn't an accurate one. Why? Because St. Matthew referred to magi, but he gave neither names nor a count of how many there were. The rest is tradition, which most of us Christians have swallowed either in part (the count of three) or in whole (hell, we even know their names and place of birth!). Admit it! Many who didn't grow up with names did grow up with three wise men in every picture and every nativity scene. But most of us didn't notice that the number three is no less contrived than the names and origins others have helpfully added to the narrative!]

Friends, this same logic applies to Jannes and Jambres. How credible would the claim be that the names of two Egyptian magicians would pass unmentioned for (literally) more than a thousand years!!! Unmentioned. And then. Suddenly. Their names are known.

Really? And we believe this??

Or might it be that the names Jannes and Jambres were invented later? Just maybe? But the point I am making is not to criticize Paul -- he's just speaking to peers in terms that both he and they commonly understand. Jannes and Jambres. We have our three wise men. They had Jannes and Jambres. The bad guys. Isn't that the part that matters? My point is that Paul is only doing that. I don't have to hang my faith on the reliability of these two Johnny-come-lately names any less than I hang the truth of the incarnation on the names of the [three] magi that Matthew never counted, let alone named.

The point Paul made to Timothy stands just as well without the sermon illustration as it does with. Jannes and Jambres don't make or break the significant things Paul had to say. Not in this passage. Nor, I venture to say, in Galatians. Or in Romans.

So I end this reflection with this simple conclusion. I'm not as worried as I used to be about how to square our scientific understanding of origins with Paul's treatment of Adam as one, particular individual. Paul was making a point, and his point stands. Sin entered the world. That's the point (among many others) that we can take from the Genesis account, and Paul reiterates it. As for the singular Adam? Adam "himself" isn't the lynchpin to this argument. Which is a relief, because it's (in my heart, at least) quite clear that there was no lonely first individual raised up from literal dust, as if by CGI magic. God could have done it that way. But I don't think he did.

My faith survives that statement just fine, and realizing now (my opinion, anyway) that Paul used Adam (instead of Eve) because he was a great counter-balance to Jesus makes me feel more comfortable that, as with Genesis, so with Paul. Don't read into the words more than God requires.

I take Paul's conclusions on faith, not least because they are good and lead to godly living, but also because most of them do not rest upon precarious science. In those rare cases where they do, however, the conclusions are still trustworthy. (We have a sin problem that dates to our very origins. And I don't doubt Paul's counsel to Timothy was well-advised.) But I don't think God requires us to cling tenaciously to things science has helped us to see were never the case.

There will, of course, be some things in the Bible that science cannot speak to. We call them miracles. And I believe they happened and happen. So, for the record... science will never explain how Jesus rose from the dead. Science assures us he did not. I still believe Jesus did rise from the grave on the third day. This gives me hope based upon faith. Science, in contrast, provides no hope beyond the grave–and never will.

Turning Left: Clearly The Right Decision

This reflection follows on the heels of a prior reflection on God's rather pointed insistence that Paul "Turn Left." I ended the prior reflection with my shoulders shrugged and my hands in the air. Like this: \_(ツ)_/ And for several days, that's where I thought the matter ended. But as I continued to read, I discovered today a twist I had not considered before. Let's return to that map I shared on the last pass...

As the map shows quite clearly, this "Turn Left" decision took Paul on to Troas instead of Asia. Guess who was waiting there in Troas? Nobody important. Just Luke, the man who authored the book of Acts that I'm now reading.

Yes, I'd known that there was a turning point in the book of Acts, where Luke suddenly starts pointedly using the phrase "we". The first time he does so?

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.

It feels quite strange to find myself using the exact same map and exact same passage from scripture, just a few days later, and this time seeing a connection there that I never noticed before. I find myself imagining Luke's growing awareness of the significance of the events surrounding Paul's first pass through Troas.

I myself have a special friend that God brought into my life by a set of bizarre circumstances. It was immediately clear that God's action had brought us together, but only as the friendship continued to grow did I more fully appreciate how very much came from a very small beginning. (Irony of ironies... this dear friend I speak of hails from Istanbul, Turkey. I met *my* friend by turning right where Paul turned left.)

Returning to Luke, I have to imagine that a few years passed before he began to begin to understand how very much had blossomed out of a seemingly small decision. If Paul had turned right, their lives would not have intertwined as they did. Or perhaps at all. I used the word began for a reason, and it's too generous by half. Luke could not possibly have begun to understand how his writings would impact the world after they took their rightful places in the new Testament.

If. Mystery.

But to reduce the answer to our question down to one variable is surely too simplistic. I don't think God was thinking only of Luke in the midst of all this. My 2 cents say that God was also focusing Paul in on a particular piece of geography, the purpose being to strengthen and build the base of God's church in Macedonia. Asia would have to wait. That is wild speculation, to be sure, however I do note the confluence of these two threads (Luke and the strengthening of the Macedonian church) in the passages that follow.

(What a debt of gratitude I owe to the countless Bible scholars who have sifted all this stuff before! My Bible commentaries have been a great help to me, today.)

So why do I see these two thoughts coming together seamlessly? Well, note first that Paul met Luke at Troas, but left him in Philippi. I won't get into the passages that make this conclusion clear, but this is the general consensus view, and it leads us to to the $64,000 question: When does Paul meet Luke again? Most pointedly (to me, anyway), he does so on a return journey described repeatedly as one motivated by Paul's desire to strengthen the churches he had planted on the prior pass.

Acts 18:23
After spending some time in Antioch, Paul set out from there and traveled from place to place throughout the region of Galatia and Phrygia, strengthening all the disciples.

As if to complicate the time/space continuum even further, Paul's decision to return to Jerusalem (Acts 19:21) is delayed by a riot in Ephesus (Acts 19:23-41) which leads him to instead go where?

Acts 20:1
When the uproar had ended, Paul sent for the disciples and, after encouraging them, said goodbye and set out for Macedonia.

Macedonia. Isn't that where the man in the vision asked Paul to come in the first place? Am I reading too much into this? Let's keep reading.

Acts 20:2-6
He traveled through that area [Macedonia], speaking many words of encouragement to the people, and finally arrived in Greece, where he stayed three months. Because some Jews had plotted against him just as he was about to sail for Syria, he decided to go back through Macedonia. He was accompanied by Sopater son of Pyrrhus from Berea, Aristarchus and Secundus from Thessalonica, Gaius from Derbe, Timothy also, and Tychicus and Trophimus from the province of Asia. These men went on ahead and waited for us at Troas. But we sailed from Philippi after the Festival of Unleavened Bread, and five days later joined the others at Troas, where we stayed seven days.

Wow, I've never felt such a need to bold different sections in a tight passage of scripture, all to track the interactions of four distinct entities: Paul, The Church, Macedonia, and Luke. Let's unpack again, taking it from the top.

A riot in Ephesus seemingly changes Paul's plans. He decides to encourage the churches he has planted where? Macedonia.

After three months in Greece, Paul prepares to return to Syria by sea, but upon discovering a plot he instead heads where? Macedonia.

And, having abandoned his original plans to return by sea, who does Paul meet up with (yet again) in Troas? Luke.

The outrageously bizarre circumstances that bring Paul and Luke together in two different cities on two separate occasions bring to mind two quotes from slightly more contemporary sources. For fans of the play Hamilton we have this: "We keep meeting!" Follow that up with this observation from the James Bond movie Goldfinger. After meeting James Bond for the third time, the evil mastermind Auric Goldfinger comments, "Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time it's enemy action."

Paul has certainly been facing enemy action, too, but the highly ironic twist in this story is that the enemy is not itself Macedonia, nor is the enemy even from Macedonia. But enemy action keeps driving Paul to Macedonia. And when he gets there, he keeps meeting Luke. As can be seen in the below image, Paul ends up passing through Macedonia twice on this journey, the second pass being the one in which Luke joins Paul in a partnership that continues through to the very end of the book of Acts. Spare a thought for Paul's enemies who unwittingly help him to not merely strengthen the nascent Macedonian Church but also to reconnect with Luke.

If one thing is clear from all that we are reading, it's that God has none-too-subtly pinned Paul to a prescribed route, accomplishing the task by means of both angels and devils alike along the way.

A parting thought. I entertained a number of conjectures in this reflection, but there are also enough facts to, I hope, leave us encouraged. In particular, having recently myself suffered a setback at the hands of an evildoer, I find it mightily encouraging to see how events that were setbacks for Paul were not setbacks for God. In Paul's life God used evil people with evil intentions to accomplish good for Paul, for the Church, and for Luke.

And, eventually, for us! We are, after all, the recipients of Luke's gospel account as well as his account of the early church, neither of which we'd have likely ever seen if God had not used the agents of both heaven and hell to get Paul to Turn Left.

Planting Gardens In Prisons

I heard a quote in church yesterday, and it moved me. It is taken from the autobiography of Nelson Mandela, Long Walk to Freedom, in which he described his long incarceration on an island prison.

I've never spent time in a real prison, but I am certainly a prisoner to certain formative themes in my life. I suppose we all are. I have escaped (or been freed from?) some of these prisons. Others seem very much to be a part of my present reality. This blog post is not the forum to delve into the details of these metaphorical prisons, but suffice it to say that I have had particular reason in recent weeks to reflect on the nature of them and my limited hopes for a full escape. Enter this story...

Nelson Mandela, leader of the anti-apartheid movement spent nearly 30 years in prison in South Africa. He would go on to lead his nation toward a better future after his eventual release, but that hope was not on his horizion while he rotted away in prison. Year in. Year out.

So what did he do while he languished in prison? Among other things, he planted a garden. Here are the words that touched my heart this morning:

“The Bible tells us that gardens preceded gardeners, but that was not the case at Pollsmoor, where I cultivated a garden that became one of my happiest diversions. It was my way of escaping from the monolithic concrete world that surrounded us. Within a few weeks of surveying all the empty space we had on the building’s roof and how it was bathed the whole day, I decided to start a garden and received permission to do so from the commanding officer.
...
A garden was one of the few things in prison that one could control. To plant a seed, watch it grow, to tend it and then harvest it, offered a simple but enduring satisfaction. The sense of being the custodian of this small patch of earth offered a taste of freedom.”

I am not the first to have been captivated by what Nelson shared. I see this quote all over the internet, but for me it is fresh and new.

We are all captives to various forms of bondage, and most of those chains are buried in our souls. That being the case, these words challenged me to reflect again upon a simple question. "What, Pilgrim, do you want to plant in your prison garden?" One might reasonably exclaim, "Why plant gardens when you can escape?" I'd reply just as quickly, "Why seek grace and forgiveness when you can just as easily live a perfect life that doesn't require them?"

Yes, ideals are wonderful, but we live in the world of the broken. So what will we do within the confines of the walls we don't know how to scale? What Mandela did in his bricks-and-mortar prison is what we ought to do our figurative prisons. Plant a garden.

In planting a garden, we nurture life. We foster growth. We encourage all that is good, from a plant's perspective. Of course, plants don't have a great deal of perspective when compared to humans, but plants do want to grow, and when we garden, we enable them to do so. That's a good thing.

The fact that I found this quote from Nelson Mandela moving ought to be quite amusing to those who know me. Gardening is not on my short list of favorite activities. Or my longer list. But the thought of gardening as a metaphor captures my heart today. I want to encourage life. To foster growth.

I found this picture of the island where Nelson spent decades of his life. I don't know if Nelson had a view like this from his prison cell, but I suppose he had some view from time to time of the water and, on the other side, Cape Town. I share this image here because in it I found myself reflecting on what it would take to swim the distance.

Perhaps it's too far a swim, but my thoughts had little to do with the physical realities of Robben Island. I was thinking in metaphors. Before I share where my mind was going, however, let's first return to something else Mandela shared regarding his garden.

“Each morning, I put on a straw hat and rough gloves and worked in the garden for two hours. Every Sunday, I would supply vegetables to the kitchen so that they could cook a special meal for the common-law prisoners. I also gave quite a lot of my harvest to the warders, who used to bring satchels to take away their fresh vegetables.”

Nelson could not escape that island. But some of his vegetables clearly did, and the rest of them served to nurture and strengthen the bodies of other prisoners. Though I didn't hear this portion of the quote from the pulpit, it (on both counts) points where my mind was already going as I sat in that church service.

In my mind's eye, I found myself imagining a person raised on that island from birth. A lifelong prisoner who during key periods of childhood lacked the nutrition necessary to develop a full, strong frame. This stunted person has no hope of swimming to distant shores by his own strength. But what if there are others on the island? Little ones who can yet attain full strength tomorrow if only they are well fed today. My heart leaped to the eager conclusion. A garden for others can be a very beautiful thing, indeed. Even in a prison.

Some prisons are of our own design. Some forced upon us by others. Some perhaps decreed for us by the mouth of God for reasons we'll never understand fully here on Earth. But I am certain of two things. First, we all experience them, and second, it is the character of God at work in us to desire that we all be freed from them.

By God's grace we may ourselves escape some prisons. Perhaps not others. But there will always be gardens that we can plant. Souls we can nurture. We can express something of the nature of God by fostering life. Even in a prison. By God's sovereignty we can perhaps help others to walk upon those shores that we ourselves are destined only to see. Writing these words reminds me of a passage from scripture:

Deuteronomy 34:1-5
Then Moses climbed Mount Nebo from the plains of Moab to the top of Pisgah, across from Jericho. There the Lord showed him the whole land—from Gilead to Dan, all of Naphtali, the territory of Ephraim and Manasseh, all the land of Judah as far as the Mediterranean Sea, the Negev and the whole region from the Valley of Jericho, the City of Palms, as far as Zoar. Then the Lord said to him, “This is the land I promised on oath to Abraham, Isaac and Jacob when I said, ‘I will give it to your descendants.’ I have let you see it with your eyes, but you will not cross over into it.” And Moses the servant of the Lord died there in Moab, as the Lord had said.

"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.