"When they had come opposite Mysia, they attempted to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them."
Acts 16:7 (NRSV)

Amid all the changing words of our generation, O God, may we hear your eternal word that does not change. May our hearts and minds be opened to know the things that pertain to life and holiness and fidelity to your plan for our lives and for the world you love, through Jesus Christ. Amen.

***

Pat Conroy has recently published an autobiographical book entitled My Losing Season. In it, he relives his senior year at the Citadel, a military college in Charleston, South Carolina. Much to his delight, he was chosen captain of the basketball team, where he played the position of point guard. He and his fellow Bulldogs anticipated a year of glory and victory, but exactly the opposite turned out to be the case. Again and again, they experienced defeat. Conroy begins:

These kinds of books are always about winning, because winning is so much more pleasurable than losing. Winning is wonderful, but it is the darker music of loss that resonates in the deep rich places inside of us. . . . Winning makes you think you will always get the girl or land a job or deposit that million dollar check in your account. You grow accustomed to a life of answered prayers—[that’s the kind of life you expect to live]. But then loss comes, and loss is a fiercer, more uncompromising teacher. I learned some things from the games we won, but I learned so much more from defeat.¹

Perhaps you have managed to remain exempt from loss and defeat in your life, but I imagine that such is not the case. When we are disappointed and do not get what we hope or dream of, it is difficult to keep perspective and not lose heart. Not long ago, I had a conversation with a Chicago business executive whose feet had been firmly planted on the ladder of success in his corporation, until the company announced a downsizing that included him. I think of a young woman in a congregation I served in another city who, from the time she was a little girl, had wanted to go to a medical school. But in college, she was simply unable to master organic chemistry, and that vocational door was shut forever. For millions of Americans, Tuesday’s election results occasioned great rejoicing and were seen as a sign that the nation was on the right track at last. For millions of other Americans, the outcome was a stunning loss that elicited despair and despondency. How we deal with defeat is one of life’s most challenging questions.

I just returned yesterday afternoon from Minneapolis, Minnesota, where the Covenant Network of Presbyterians held their annual conference. Five hundred from around the country gathered. (Twenty-five from Fourth Presbyterian Church attended.) At this meeting, we recommitted ourselves to pressing on and remaining hopeful in the midst of a season of acrimony and constitutional wrangling. As many of you are aware, our church constitution now has as its stated policy the categorical exclusion of the gifts of gay and lesbian Presbyterians in answering God’s call to service in the office of elder or minister. It’s hard not to lose heart or perspective, unless you remember that God has a plan that is greater and deeper than denominational policy at certain times in church history. Yesterday, at the closing worship, Linda Loving preached a powerful sermon about the promise of God communicated through the prophet Joel. "I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh," says the Lord. God’s promises hold. God’s plan is unalterable, even though it is difficult to see it at certain times, particularly now when the progressive wing of the church keeps being handed its hat.

What do you do when the wind appears to be blowing against you? This is the question that today’s dramatic story from the book of Acts addresses with particular power. Paul, Silas, and Timothy—do you remember who they are? Think of them as the Babe Ruth, the Hank Aaron, and the Sammy Sosa of the early Christian movement. They were successful missionaries, setting out again on a journey. They made their plans; they highlighted on the map the places in Asia where they intended to stop; they ate their Wheaties. They were ready to set out and conquer the part of the world they had identified as the mission field for Christ. But things did not turn out as Paul and his comrades expected. The Holy Spirit blew them back from Asia. They wanted to go to Bithynia, but no, the wind would not allow it. Then they landed in Bythina, or wanted to land there, but once again the landing was not to be. We are not told what their state of mind was upon their arrival in Troas, but after going 0 and 2, frustration and disappointment were bound to have been their mental attitude. Nothing was working right for them, and all they wanted to do was to do good and serve God.

For years, I have had little use for that sunny verse in the book of Romans that reads "All things work together for good for those who love the Lord" (Romans 8:28). I bet that’s not one of your favorites either. We wish it were so, but it rarely appears so. I know plenty of people who love God and whose lives seem to be laced with disappointment and tragedy and loss. What I try to remember every day is that we simply cannot see, as we live our lives, how it is that God is at work through the good and through the bad. As one door is closing, another is being opened. There is never any such thing as a totally hopeless situation. God is at work, I believe, as much in our setbacks and failures as in our successes and accomplishments.

Sometimes when I am saying my prayers, I realize that I am giving nothing more than lip service to that which I am trying to preach to you today. I say, "Thy will be done," and then I add an addendum, "Thy will be done, O Lord, and I would like for you to do it in this way and in this time frame." The problem with that attitude is that it denies the almightiness of the Almighty. It precludes completely the free working of the Holy Spirit, who is entirely not under human control. As Paul slept that night in Troas, he had a dream. In the dream a man from Macedonia appeared and said, "Paul, please come over here and help us." Paul had wanted to go north, but the wind had blown him back south, and now it becomes clear, he was needed, hope was needed, the gospel was needed in Macedonia. Paul had never ever thought to go to Macedonia. It turns out that God’s thoughts were not Paul’s thoughts.

Here are two paradoxes of the Christian life and mission. On one hand, there is a need for planning and order and constancy. The Prayer for Illumination this morning puts it well: "Amid all the changing words of this generation, speak the eternal word that does not change." We assume that God is about continuity, but it is also true that God is full of new ideas, full of surprises. "The wind blows where it chooses," John’s Gospel tells us. Whatever that means, it means at least this: that the Spirit of the living God is free and not in any way subject to human control.² I can think of no more encouraging thought than that God is in charge. God is in charge of the future of the Presbyterian Church United States of America. God is in charge of our fractious and frightening world.

And this matter of success and failure—I just don’t know how in this life we finally know something is successful or a failure. Some of the most successful people I have met in my life are people who deal with a deep sense of failure, and those who seem to have accomplished nothing leave astonishing legacies of love and hope and inspiration for others. I think of the mighty Roman Empire and those little Christian communities that didn’t seem to have a thing going for them. They had no buildings; they had no money; they suffered over and over again. Many of the early Christians died because of their faith, but through it all they trusted that the Spirit of the living God was at work. Defeat after defeat, they kept their eye on the bigger picture. I think about how Jesus was born in a stable because the door to the inn was slammed shut to his mother and earthly father. Think of how Paul had his journey all planned out but God said, "No, I want you to go over here—here is where you are needed." I think about how in my own life, when life has said no to me, God was saying yes to something that was more right, more hopeful for me. O how we grow, and how much we learn when we finally are able to pray, "Thy will be done," and actually mean it.

So Paul had the dream and the man from Macedonia told him he needed Paul, and off they sailed to Neapolis. They traveled inland to Philippi, and there by the river they spoke with a group of women who had gathered. Paul told them about a man who had lived far away in Galilee, whose name was Jesus. He had been killed—talk about failure—crucified by Pontius Pilate. Yet that defeat had become the great victory for all of humankind as God raised Christ from the dead. New life was loose in the world.³ The gift of new life was there in Macedonia. Receiving it with gladness, Lydia and her whole household were baptized.

I don’t know if there is anyone here who happens to be of European ancestry this morning, but if you are, you can trace your spiritual roots back to one person: Lydia, the first convert to Christianity on European soil. It would never have happened if the Spirit had not blown two doors shut before blowing another door open. Sometimes our own plans have to be canceled in order for us to participate in God’s great plan of redemption.

I love the Apostle Paul in this story. I love it that he didn’t get all gummed up in his disappointment. He took it, and he moved on. When another door was opened, he walked through it. How many people have you known in your life who because of a divorce or a broken love relationship or because of a job loss or because of an economic setback remain bitter forever and ever, Amen? They blame everybody for what they missed and fail to receive with gratitude the opportunity life offers up everyday to glorify God and to serve others in any set of circumstances. It takes great spiritual wisdom to realize that God is at work in all of it, the bad as well as the good.

I close with an illustration from Taylor Branch’s story of the civil rights movement and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., told in his book Parting the Waters. He talks about how it was that Martin King graduated from Boston University with his doctorate in theology, and how two search committees had expressed some interest in his coming and being their pastor. One was a rather prestigious pulpit in Chattanooga, Tennessee, while the other was a little church of people of lower income in Montgomery, Alabama. King went to Chattanooga first and preached his candidate’s sermon there. A congregational meeting was held after church, and when the vote was counted, the congregation had decided not to call Martin Luther King Jr. He was devastated. As his fallback position, he decided to accept an invitation from the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church in Montgomery to be their pastor. Only three months after he arrived in Montgomery, Rosa Parks got on a bus and the bus driver told her to go to the back and she said, "No, Sir, I am sorry but I am not going to do that." The city, the nation, erupted. The Montgomery community did not know where to turn, so they asked this new, young, unproven preacher at the Dexter Avenue Baptist Church if he could help them out. That church and their pastor led the crusade that eventually tore down the walls of legal segregation in the United States of America.⁴

So I humbly suggest to you today that you pay no attention next time a door shuts in your face. The slam you hear just might be the voice of God.

Notes

1. Pat Conroy, My Losing Season. Doubleday and Co., Inc., 2002.
2. A point made by Walter Bruggemann in "Editor’s Introduction," Journal for Preachers, Pentecost 2001.
3. Fleming Rutledge, "Lydia: The First Christian in Europe" in Help My Unbelief. William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 2000.
4. As retold in the "Century Marks" column of Christian Century.