"Lydia" (Sixth Sunday of Easter)

Acts 16:9-15

9 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." 10 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. 11 We set sail from Troas and took a straight course to Samothrace, the following day to Neapolis, 12 and from there to Philippi, which is a leading city of the district of Macedonia and a Roman colony. We remained in this city for some days. 13 On the sabbath day we went outside the gate by the river, where we supposed there was a place of prayer; and we sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there. 14 A certain woman named Lydia, a worshiper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth. The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul. 15 When she and her household were baptized, she urged us, saying, "If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home." And she prevailed upon us.

            This wasn’t where they were supposed to be. There was a plan, an itinerary, and a route mapped out. Paul and his company had plans to continue his ministry in Asia Minor, heading north by northeast, towards the Black Sea and the territories of Bithynia and Pontus, perhaps even Armenia and Cappadocia. These areas were in Paul’s ministerial wheelhouse, territories with higher populations of Jews, people with whom the apostle was comfortable speaking and sharing the good news of Jesus. Paul had plans, and most likely they were plans he had meticulously mapped out, plans he had prayed over, plans that seemed (at least to him) to be the best in carrying out his mission and sharing the gospel in a more effective and efficient way. Paul had plans, but as so many of us know the old cliché contains a great deal of truth: “if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”

            In the few verses prior to our text this morning, we are told twice that Paul’s plans were interrupted, rerouted, or just blocked altogether by the Spirit. In verse 6 we’re told that Paul and his crew had to cut “through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia.” They had to change course, make other plans because the Spirit had “forbidden” them from preaching in Asia. That seems a bit odd, doesn’t it, that the Holy Spirit would forbid someone to speak the word of God’s Good News in Christ to anyone? But it isn’t the only time it happens to Paul. No, Luke tells us in the very next verse (verse 7) that Paul and company “attempted to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them.” No reason is given. There’s no mention of dangerous conditions, no words about extreme violence or natural disasters in that part of the world awaiting these missionaries. Even if there had been, it seems that would be more reason for them to have gone, especially given the nature of the early Church (and one could argue, the Church now) for rapid growth in places where it faces the largest obstacles and harshest persecution. Twice we are told Paul was prevented from going where he had planned on going by the Spirit, without so much as an explanation why. Isn’t that frustrating?

            Isn’t it frustrating when you have it all laid out, when you have a plan, your ducks in a row, when your life is written out with every “i” dotted and every “t” crossed, just to have it all collapse for seemingly no good reason? It doesn’t seem fair to work so hard in making a path for yourself, to find a groove in which you seem to work best, to invest so much energy in laying down life’s tracks only to be told the bridge is out, the way is blocked, or that you just simply aren’t allowed to go that way.

Maybe your life has been a gravy train with biscuit wheels, but I know there have been plenty of times in my own life when my train was stalled on the tracks, when my plans were changed or altogether scrapped. When that happens, it can make us question everything we’ve done up to that point, make us question our direction in life, our very vocation, and even who we are. When our plans are thwarted, when our life is knocked off course, or when the way we’ve always done things is suddenly (or even gradually) changed, it can cause us a great deal of anxiety about who we are and what we’re supposed to be doing. If we’re not patient, open to the moving of God’s Spirit in our lives, we can decide we’re either going to forge ahead with our plans, taking on whatever difficulties may come, or we’re going to just give up because there’s just no use in trying to start over. If we’re not sensitive to the Spirit of God, we can wind up walking away instead of prayerfully, patiently waiting.

            You see, Paul wound up waiting; he wound up waiting at Troas Luke tells us in verse 8. As far as Luke tells us, Paul doesn’t really do any ministry in Troas; he doesn’t undertake a new preaching ministry, doesn’t seek out a new audience in an attempt to reestablish himself as an apostle to Jewish-minded converts in Asia Minor. No, Paul just waits.

            Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t like to wait. Perhaps I’m a product of an instantaneous culture, the result of a time so technologically tuned that I can instantly order anything on the phone in my pocket and have it arrive at my door tomorrow (maybe even this afternoon). Maybe it’s the fast pace of our culture and its goal of squeezing as much out of an hour as we can, or maybe I have too much of my dad in me, too much influence from a man who seems to have an aversion to siting down when there’s always something broken to fix or something old to replace. I don’t like to just stand around waiting with my teeth in my mouth for something to happen; I’ve got to be doing something. I just don’t like to wait, and I know I’m not alone here.

Sometimes, though, we need to wait. Sometimes we need to stop, to breathe, to look around us, to listen. We may not like the circumstances that bring us to a halt or the way we’re sometimes forced to wait, but sometimes we need to wait. We need to wait, because if we don’t we might just fly right on by what God has for us, what God is actually calling us to do.

See, it’s while Paul is waiting in Troas that he receives the vision (the call) from the man from Macedonia in verse 9: “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.’" This is what he had been waiting for: a call from God—action! We’re told in verses 10 through 12 that, “When he had seen the vision, [they] immediately tried to cross over to Macedonia, being convinced that God had called [them] to proclaim the good news to them. [They] set sail from Troas and took a straight course to Samothrace, the following day to Neapolis, and from there to Philippi, which is a leading city of the district of Macedonia and a Roman colony.” It was like they had a travel agent on speed dial! Paul has the vision and immediately they’re off! Luke even outlines the course of their journey for us (which I’m sure many of you can find in the back of your Bibles; just look for a map that traces “Paul’s Second Missionary Journey”). I find it interesting, however, that once the crew arrives in Philippi they “remained in this city for some days.” There they were again, waiting.

You know, I’m convinced that God doesn’t often line the way with neon signs or giant billboards to tell us where heading in the right direction. It seems to me that God prefers to leave clues for us, traces of God’s direction for us to follow. Maybe because it takes less faith to follow a map, to plug the address in the GPS and simply turn right when it tells us to turn right or left when it tells us to turn left. Maybe God’s directions have built in “pit stops,” times and places where we have to slow down, when we have to quiet our lives and ourselves in order to discern the next step, to wait for God to give us the next “holy hint.” Perhaps that’s why Paul and his posse had to pause in Philippi for a few days, to discern where God was leading them next.

When it seemed that the hordes of the Macedonian seekers weren’t showing up where Paul and his team were waiting, he returned to a method that had worked for him in the past: on the Sabbath day he went to find a synagogue. However, this was Philippi and Jews were in the minority. In fact, the text suggests that since Paul and his followers came upon “a place of prayer; and…sat down and spoke to the women who had gathered there,” there may not have even been the required number of ten Jewish men to necessitate a formal synagogue. So Paul is clearly outside of his comfort zone, at least outside the normalcy of his evangelistic strategies. And it only gets more outside the ordinary when we witness who it is that leans in to listen: “A certain woman named Lydia, a worshiper of God, was listening to us; she was from the city of Thyatira and a dealer in purple cloth.

Didn’t Paul see a man in his dream, a Macedonian man?! I thought he was entering the European continent with the gospel to spread it among the Gentile men in their pagan temples and unholy homes. I was under the impression that when Paul got the call to go to Macedonia it was in order to bring about a sweeping display of the gospel’s power to convert people by the hundreds, to cause change in the hearts and minds of those furthest from the truth of who and what God is. But here is Paul, at an impromptu synagogue, telling this woman—a single, rather well-off, Gentile, God-fearing woman—the Good News, and she’s listening to him. She’s listening because “The Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul.” God is the agent of action, just as God has been throughout Paul’s ministry, and as such, God is moving in and among the least expected people in the least expected places and in the least expected ways along the journey.

Luke tells us that “When [Lydia] and her household were baptized, she urged [them], saying, ‘If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.’ And she prevailed upon [them].” The proof of Lydia’s conversion is her display of hospitality to these folks she has just met, these men who have arrived with the news of God’s grace, love, and forgiveness through Jesus Christ. It’s very likely that Lydia went on to become the founder of the church there in Philippi—a church that Paul would later write to in such a way as to make one believe it was his favorite church. Lydia becomes the first European Christian, the first believer in this new direction of God’s kingdom expansion. Her conversion is the direct result of God’s active presence in leading Paul in his ministry. Lydia’s faith can be traced back through Paul’s faith, a faith that required times of purposeful pause, of serious reflection and discernment, a faith that didn’t always go in the direction or at the speed Paul may have wanted it to go, but God shaped Paul through it all. God shapes us through the pauses, changes, and unexpected people along our own faith paths.

When we are faithful and intentional in listening for the direction of Christ, when we recognize the need to wait, the reality that our direction may not be God’s direction, then we will realize the truth that God shapes us by causing us to step outside of our comfort zones and usual approaches to faith. Then we will realize that our plans, routes, systems, and structures may not actually be from God. When we take the time to truly listen for the leading of God’s Holy Spirit we just might find that God doesn’t line the way with flashing lights and obvious answers, but that there’ll be more waiting than we’re comfortable with and more people with whom we may have never expected to cross paths. So let us be patient. Let us not be fearful n frustrated in waiting, listening, and discerning. Let us be the people of God who seek the way of the Lord and follow it wherever it  may lead and to whomever it may take us. Amen.