Wrong Turnings

We’re not far into the New Year, and the warm days of spring are still some way off. But it’s not too early to think about exploring the countryside, and making sure we go the right way to get where we’re going.  At the same time, it’s wise to ponder those wrong ways, too.  However closely we may study the map first, the roads or pathways don’t always fall into a recognisable pattern when seen on the ground.  We may travel for some time along a narrow track before comparing our progress to the map.  Maybe a side road or some other landmark is sufficiently similar to the map to convince us for a while longer that we are right, and that just a little further we will come to our goal.  But then, reluctantly, we have to conclude that this way goes nowhere and wasn’t the one we meant to take after all. 

You will have guessed, of course, that I’m not just referring to exploring the countryside, whether it be on foot or by car.  Our path through life is a journey too, and here too it is important to take the right roads.  Every day we have to make decisions, whether large or small, and to base these on correct information and the application of sound principles is essential.

I’m reminded of a prayer, which turns out not to be as old as I had thought, since its author, Reinhold Niebuhr, was born in the latter years of the nineteenth century.  The text exhorts God to “grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”  How well this applies to our whole-life-journey.  Often we see only one way to achieve our goals; there may be others, but we reject these out of hand.  Until, that is, we reach a point where forward progress is minimal, or nil.  Then we have to admit – perhaps with some degree of egg on face, and often with a need to accept some financial disadvantage – that there might be a better way, and we retrace our steps.

With a General Election coming up in a few months’ time, there are many who are asking themselves just who would make the country’s best political leader for the next five years. Some say that the best leader is one who follows the principle advocated in the Serenity Prayer and, as a result, is willing to acknowledge his mistakes.  That may be so, at a personal level although, for a politician considering the cost of losing face, it may be harder to contemplate.

Jesus must have wondered, as he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, whether perhaps He had taken a wrong turning when he ‘steadfastly set his face to go to Jerusalem’ (St Luke 9:51, KJV.)  However, He was reassured that He was doing the will of His Father, and we can only humbly respond with our gratitude for His sacrifice on the Cross, and call upon the benefits thus won for our redemption when we suffer the consequences of taking our own wrong turnings.

Jumping off Cliffs

The other week, in one of our regular early Monday morning breakfast discussions, we were talking about faith, having read the first few verses of Hebrews, ch. 11.  Someone had read something about jumping off a cliff so long as one had faith that there were arms just out of sight ready to hold the catch.  Then common sense comes along and tells one that such things just don’t happen in this world!

It’s another way of looking at Jesus’ comment about moving mountains at Matt. 17:20.  Whether or not we have such faith, here too there is this nagging thought that - faith or not -such things just don’t happen.

Not long after this discussion, I found myself listening to a podcast about humanist ceremonies.  In many ways the role of the Celebrant in such rituals is closely comparable to that of a Christian priest or minister.  Before they are allowed to perform their duties they have to undergo instruction, and their abilities and understanding of what they’re about have to be approved, much in the same way as a minister undergoes selection, training and a ritual of commissioning.  Similar logic and consideration for the humanist officiants apply as in any conventional religious context ... saving only the absence of any deity or faith. 

Early in His ministry, Jesus was in the synagogue in Nazareth one Sabbath day, when He was invited to read from the scriptures and speak about what He’d read.  We’re told (Luke 4:22) that people were amazed at what He said; yet they weren’t willing to follow Him.  It was that common sense that got in the way.  They had known Jesus for many years; he was the son of the local carpenter.  Chances are that, after Joseph died, Jesus, as the eldest son, had carried on the business for a while.  They might acknowledge the wisdom with which he spoke, but to be led or taught by a mere artisan was more than they could accept.

We can refer too to Nathaniel (John 1:46), to whom Philip specifically spoke of "Jesus of Nazareth, the son of Joseph".  Nathaniel’s immediate reaction was to allow common sense – and possibly a local tradition or proverb – give him grounds to dismiss the matter: "Can anything good come out of Nazareth?"

This conflict between what we know and what we are prepared to believe, even if we have no proof, is a constant threat to even the strongest faith.  It is no shame to admit that, from time to time, we have doubts.  It is at such times that we are in greatest need of friends to support us in prayer.  We can also turn to God’s promises, written for us in the scriptures, such as that at Jeremiah 31:33-34, where the prophet speaks of God’s planting of truth within the people’s hearts and minds, so there is no need to for them to be taught: they will simply know His truth.

Where do you stand in the conflict between head knowledge and heart knowledge?  Who do you know who can help you resolve it?