An Unexpected Detour | 2/8/26

• Reflection Questions

  1. Have you ever encountered a "closed road" in your life that felt like a setback but eventually led you toward a better path?

  2. How do you handle the disappointment of a plan falling through when you truly believed you were doing the right thing?

  3. When a new opportunity appears that requires you to step far outside your comfort zone, is your first instinct to move immediately or to hesitate?

  4. Can you think of a time when someone invited you to "come over and help," and how did saying yes to that request change you?

  5. Is there a "strange way" of doing things that you’ve been resistant to, but that might actually be the key to a breakthrough?

  6. If you looked back at the "no's" you've received in the past, can you see how they helped clear the distractions for the "yes" you are living out now?

Transcript:

This morning, before we turn our attention to the message—the Scripture and message for the day—a public service announcement. It is February, which means that it is Black History Month!

And one of the things that I like to do for myself this month, every year, is to take some time to listen to voices of authors, poets, artists, composers, singer-songwriters, and particularly ones that I have not heard before. Because in my listening, I learn and I grow and I gain perspective that is different from my own, which is important and valuable for my growth. And so I just mention that this morning, maybe as a word of encouragement for you to think about doing some of the same this month. Turn to some voices that you haven't heard before, particularly people of color, and learn and listen.

And I'm going to recommend one particular author and one particular book to you today because it is a wonderful read for us as the church and as followers of Christ. And even though it was written in the late 1940s, it is still very much relevant to the moment in which we find ourselves right now. Reverend Doctor Howard Thurman, who was a black pastor and theologian who served as the dean of the chapel at Boston University for many years, in the late 40s, wrote Jesus and the Disinherited. And it's a remarkable book, as you can tell. It's not really thick, although it is thick inside, but it's not thick in terms of the number of pages. 

So I encourage you to pick up a copy of this and read it. I'll just read a little excerpt from the back cover of the book: “Thurman argues that within Jesus' life of suffering, pain, and overwhelming love is the solution that will prevent our descent into moral nihilism. For all those scorned and forced to live outside society, Jesus advocated a love of self and others that defeats fear and the hatred that decays our souls and the world around us.”

I don't know about you, but that sounds pretty much right on point for our time. So, Jesus and the Disinherited, Reverend Doctor Howard Thurman. You know, sometimes when you listen to new voices, you might have an epiphany, which is what we've been talking about. 

This winter, we've been looking at everyday epiphanies. And we started with a definition back a few weeks ago from Reverend Jim Harnish, a retired pastor in our conference who wrote a book entitled Everyday Epiphanies. His definition is: Epiphany happens for people who are prepared to see, willing to follow, and open to surprises along the way.

So today, we're going to turn to another story from Scripture where someone has an epiphany moment. Now, the main person in our story today is the Apostle Paul. You may remember him as someone who, in the early chapters of the book of Acts, we read about him as Saul, one who was actually persecuting the church, the early Christian community. And in that persecution was actually endorsing the killing of members of "the Way," the Christian church, until the day when he had an encounter on the road to Damascus.

And he has an experience of Christ's presence, asking him why he is persecuting the church. And Paul has an epiphany moment there. The scales come off of his eyes and he turns to a new way of life and becomes a follower of Jesus, in The Way. His life changes completely at that point. And where we pick up the story today in the 16th chapter of Acts is in the middle of his second missionary journey, where he is going and spreading the good news of the gospel with others. And so I invite you to follow along as I read, beginning with the sixth verse.

They went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia. When they had come opposite Mysia, they attempted to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them. So passing by Mysia, they went down to Troas. During the night, Paul had a vision. There stood a man of Macedonia, pleading with him and saying, "Come over to Macedonia and help us." When he had seen the vision, we immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called us to proclaim the good news to them.

This is the Word of God for the people of God and God's people say, "Thanks be to God." Would you pray with me? Come, Holy Spirit, and breathe life into the words that I speak, that they might carry a word from you into our hearts and lives on this day. Amen.

It was a beautiful morning in upstate Washington, summer of 2003. Catherine and I and our two kids, Shelby and Sid, who were both young at the time, had landed in Seattle the day before and had been picked up at the airport by her sister Susan and her husband Steve, and their kids at the time, Matthew and Haley. And we returned to their home, looking forward to a week of summer vacation where we could get to know an area that we had never been before.

And so that afternoon and evening, we were talking and making some plans and getting excited about what would transpire the next few days. And before we went to bed that night, Steve came over to me and knowing that I am often an early riser in the morning and knowing that I am always up for a little exploring, Steve brought a map and said, "Hey, I just want you to know that if you by chance wake up early any morning while you're here, here are some routes that you might enjoy driving that will help you get to know the area and see some great scenery."

I was like, "Thank you, Steve. That is so kind of you. I really appreciate that." So sure enough, that first night, eyes wide open at 4:00 in the morning, and I thought to myself, "Okay, here's my opportunity." So I got up, put some clothes on, quietly stepped out of the bedroom, and closed the door behind me. I went downstairs, found the keys for the Suburban that he had told me it would be fine for me to drive to take for a little loop, and then I got ready to walk out the door when I realized I had left my shoes in the bedroom.

And I did not want to go back into the bedroom and risk waking Catherine up. So instead, I looked around, and I noticed that there was a pair of Steve's boat shoes sitting right there in the "stop and drop" area, and I thought, "Perfect, I'll just put those on." So I put his shoes on, I grabbed the keys, I go out to the car, I quietly leave, I get on the road, and it's not long before the sun starts coming up.

Because (I don't know if you know this), but in the summer in Washington, the sun comes up really early. And so it is gorgeous! There's fantastic scenery along the highway, and I'm keeping an eye out for my turn, where I will get on the road that will take me over one of the passes in that part of the state. And I find it, and I turn, and immediately the road begins to climb upward.

And I am loving this moment. I'm seeing deer hop across the road. I look, and I see snowcapped greenery on either side of the road. I'm enjoying the moment. I'm rolling down the window and soaking up the cool, refreshing air, having just arrived from South Florida. And then as I continue on my way, there's a sign that announces the pass that is up ahead. And just below that, at the bottom of the sign, it says "Road Closed."

Now it's June, and I'm thinking to myself, "Why would the road possibly be closed?" I was a lot younger then—I'm sure I have gained age and wisdom since that point—but I decided not to pay attention to that sign. So I kept driving, and it kept being beautiful, and I kept enjoying the moment all the way to the top of the pass. And there at the top was a stretch that could not have been any longer than about from the end of this row to the end of that row, but right there, right at the top of the mountain where it was the coldest in June, was a strip of snow and ice on the road.

And I thought to myself, "How bad can it be?" So I kept driving until I wasn't anymore, because I was stuck. And then there was the moment when I realized that I was no longer stuck, but I was ever so slightly starting to slide backward and over toward a ditch and an embankment where the Suburban gently landed, and I could go nowhere. Did I mention that the sign said "Road Closed," which, among other things, meant that there's nobody else there on the pass with me?

Long story shorter, I did eventually make it down. Seven miles in boat shoes, walk-running down to the ranger station for somebody to then take me down further the mountain to somebody who could come back up and tow me. And I got back many hours later than I had originally planned on. If only I had paid attention to that sign.

Our scripture begins today this way: "They went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia." You know, when you are forbidden to do something, it's a good idea to pay attention. Don't go there. Don't do that. You know, we don't know why Paul and his companions were forbidden to go where they were planning on going. Was there danger ahead? Was it just not the right time? We don't know. The Scripture doesn't give us that. And maybe Paul didn't get that either. Maybe there was no particular explanation, just the message: "Don't do it."

And Paul pays attention, and he changes his travel itinerary. You know, Holy Spirit nudges are important to pay attention to. Not just the ones that tell us what to do, but also the ones that tell us what not to do. Have you noticed that you all have had this experience, right? That nudge that you get deep down inside, and you know that it's saying, "No, don't go there."

The nudge not to send that email or not to make that social media post, the nudge not to gossip about that neighbor or make that purchase that wasn't really in your budget, or fudge the numbers just because the boss said to. "Road Closed." "Do not pass Go." "Do not collect $100." Stop. It's good to pay attention to the signs, and sometimes the "no's" that the Holy Spirit gives us become the guardrails that keep us on the right path.

Story continues. Paul changes his itinerary. "When they had come opposite Mysia, they attempted now to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them." Second stop sign. Another change of course. And it's at this point in the story that I imagine the discouragement and disappointment that Paul must have felt.

Now, if we go back and read earlier in the book of Acts, we hear about the remarkable first missionary journey that he had, where he went after having had his epiphany. And he goes, and he shares the good news, and new communities of faith are formed, and people respond wonderfully to the message that he and his partner Barnabas are sharing. And then he goes back to Jerusalem, and he must have been on cloud nine, ready, ready to share all that he had experienced.

And when he gets to Jerusalem, he is confronted by cynics and skeptics and doubters and those in the synagogue who want to know what in the world he thinks he's been doing, sharing the good news with those people. And then, after having that discouragement, when he finally gets through a rigorous defense of what he's been doing and gets the approval to continue, then, before he gets ready to start on his next journey, he and Barnabas have a disagreement about how they should move forward and who should go with them, and they split ways.

His closest friend in the ministry is now not a part of this next journey that he's going to go on. And then the Holy Spirit tells him no, not once, but twice, about the plans that he had in mind, just wanting to follow, just wanting to do what he thought he was supposed to do. Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever felt like life was going swimmingly well? You're tracking. You're in the sweet spot, and then all of a sudden, you hit a roadblock, and then it feels like there's one punch after another. One discouragement, another disappointment. But sometimes the "no's" can be God's way of preparing us for a better "yes," which is exactly what happens in this story.

Now we get to the good part. "During the night, Paul had a vision, and there stood a man of Macedonia, pleading with him and saying, 'Come over to Macedonia and help us.'" Come over and help us. Now Macedonia was not in any of Paul's travel plans. This was not the itinerary he had in mind. He wanted to go to the upper regions of Asia. That meant staying on solid ground on land. Macedonia meant crossing a major body of water, the Aegean Sea, and going to a place where he knew nobody.

He knew nothing about the culture, the people, the environment. But the vision convinces him. He has another epiphany, and the next thing that we hear is that he and his companions immediately—and don't overlook that word. When the epiphany comes, don't delay. Pay attention immediately. They begin to figure out a way to get over to this region that they are being called to.

You know, as I was listening to that story again this week, it reminded me of another time in history where somebody made a major shift in what they thought their plans were going to be when it came to sharing the gospel. A man named John Wesley, the founder of Methodism, who in his early days was formed as an Anglican priest. He went to Oxford University to study. He had the right pedigree. He had the right education. He knew the right people. He was prepared to be a responsible priest in the Church of England.

And early in his ministry, Wesley had experienced his share of disappointment. He came over to the colonies at one point with a grand vision that he had for evangelizing Native Americans and bringing the good news to others who were moving to the colonies. And it was a disaster. Read about that sometime. It was terrible. And he went back to England, dejected and defeated. He had a heartwarming experience, but even after that heartwarming experience, it was a struggle trying to figure out exactly what it was that God was wanting to do with him, because he kept running up against resistance within the church that he was formed in.

And then one day, he gets a letter from his friend George Whitefield. Wesley and Whitefield were friends for decades. And an interesting thing about their friendship: they disagreed vehemently about significant points of theology and would write back and forth. We have the letters still today to show that. But one of the beautiful things about it is, even in their extreme disagreements, what we see time and time again in their letters to each other is mutual respect and admiration. So much so that when Whitefield died, it was John Wesley who was chosen to preach the message at his funeral.

So Whitefield writes him on March 3rd, 1739. And by this point, Whitefield has started doing something that no Anglican priest would have thought about. It was a crazy, radical idea to step outside the doors and the walls of a building of a church in order to preach good news to people. So on the 3rd of March, Whitefield writes this in a letter to Wesley: "There is a glorious door opened among the colliers, the coal miners. You must come and water what God has enabled me to plant. Come over and help us." Do you hear it? Whitefield saying to Wesley, "Come over and help. There's something happening here. The Holy Spirit is doing something here."

The first word we hear from Wesley about this is in his journal, March 15th, 12 days later: "I had no thought of leaving London when I received, after several others, a letter from Mr. Whitefield and another from Mr. Seward, entreating me in the most pressing manner to come to Bristol without delay. This I was not at all forward to do." Wesley didn't want to go to Bristol. Wesley had his own plans for growing the movement in London, right where he was.

Nevertheless, by two weeks later, on the 29th of March, we know from his entry that he had made his way to Bristol, and we read this: "In the evening, I reached Bristol and met Mr. Whitefield there. I could scarcely reconcile myself at first to this strange way of preaching in the fields of which he sent me an example on Sunday. I had been all my life so tenacious of every point relating to decency and order, that I should have thought the saving of souls almost a sin if it had not been done in a church."

Crazy idea to go out into the streets. "What are they doing?" Wesley says. But just four days later, we get this entry: "At four in the afternoon, I submitted to be more vile"—love that word—"I submitted to be more vile and proclaimed in the highways the glad tidings of salvation. Speaking from a little eminence in a ground adjoining to the city to about 3000 people."

What Wesley and Whitefield discovered was that there were people who were hungry to hear the good news, not only of a God who wanted to save their souls, but of a God who cared about their lives and who would enter in and be with them and among them to care about the ways in which they were experiencing the hardships of life in that moment.

And so, as we keep reading in Wesley's journal, we see entry after entry of him preaching and more people coming as crowds gathered to hear. And just five weeks later, after that entry from April the 2nd, Wesley and some of his acquaintances pull together the resources to purchase a plot of land in Bristol that becomes the site of the New Room, a hub for the Methodist movement—not just for preaching and worship and teaching, but a hub for health care and for job education, and for meeting the needs of children and youth and those who are impoverished in the community. And friends, that New Room is still there today in Bristol, serving the needs of that community.

Imagine how different things might have gone for the Methodist movement if Wesley had not responded to the nudge, if he hadn't listened to Whitefield say, "You got to come see this. You got to come try this." In Paul's story, similarly, we see the fruits of his willingness to respond to the vision of the man from Macedonia, because shortly after landing, he ends up among a group of people just outside of the city of Philippi, and he meets a woman named Lydia, who he then baptizes, her and her household, and she begins to host a gathering of people who form a new Christian community.

And from Philippi, Paul moves on and stays on that side of the water and goes to Thessalonica, to Athens, and to Corinth. And then he crosses back over and goes to Ephesus. Recognize any of those names? The Philippians, the Thessalonians, the Corinthians, the Ephesians—all communities of faith that Paul founded and then wrote back to. And we have those letters in our New Testament today as witness to that, because he paid attention to the nudge.

But before he paid attention to the nudge that said "yes," he had to pay attention to the ones that said "no." No. No. Yes. No. No. Yes. That's how the spirit works sometimes in our lives. Before there's a "yes" that is being prepared for us, there are those that will help us clear the distractions, set the guardrails, and keep us on the path. The question is, will we have the faith and the discipline to accept the "no's" so that when the "yes" comes, we'll be ready?

Will you pray with me? Holy Spirit, help us. Help us pay attention. Help us be open not only to the "yes," but to the "no's," so that we might stay in the stream of faithfulness and participate in what you have in mind for us, so that we might see the glory of God become reality among us. In Christ's name, Amen.