Spinning

May 5, 2020

When Linda and I were first married, we lived in a tiny hamlet southwest of Wellsville, NY. Alma was a wonderful place to begin our life together. At the end of an 8 1/2 mile drive down Petrolia Road, it was nestled in the confluence of two valleys, and consisted of a couple dozen houses, the church I pastored, a one-bay fire department, and a general store. At the time, in addition to preaching at the church, I worked for the Department of Social Services in Angelica NY.

Unbeknownst to me, one day while I was at work, the county tore up about a half mile of the Petrolia Road in the big curve right in front of Elmer Watson’s house in preparation for resurfacing. They only got as far as removing the asphalt before it began to rain. Did I mention that they neglected to post any warning signs? That evening, as I was driving home at my usual breakneck pace, I approached the curve on asphalt and immediately hit the now muddy clay surface of the curve itself. My little 1966 Falcon immediately took on a life of its own, spinning like a top down the road. God in his mercy and power somehow kept me on the road instead of my careening off into the ditch. Once the fun stopped, I got out of the car, walked back along the road, and picked up all four hubcaps which had popped off in the excitement. 

I’ve had a few other times when I lost control of a vehicle, all of which were pretty exciting, none of which were particularly pleasant.

One of the results of COVID-19 with all the lockdowns, social distancing, and economic devastation we’re experiencing is that uncomfortable realization that we have less control over the circumstances of our lives than we thought, and far less than we like. Like me in that spinning Falcon, no matter how tightly we grip the wheel, nothing we do can make it stop. It’s no very fun. 

In 2 Corinthians 7, Paul writes about a time in his life when things were out of his control. He had written to correct some serious issues in the church, but once the letter was sent, there was little more he could do. He was being tossed back and forth, and found the experience something less than pleasurable. In v. 4, he says, “I am exceedingly joyful in all our tribulation,” quite a noble attitude, we might say. I work hard at my gratitude discipline, and find it a challenge to be joyful in ALL my troubles, even though they aren’t really all that much. We look at Paul and say, “Wow! What a man of faith, to be joyful in all his troubles!” 

Hold on. Two verses later, he says, we “had no rest, but we were troubled on every side. Outside were conflicts, inside were fears.” Just two verses earlier, he spoke of exceeding joy in every situation, and here he talks about the conflict he faced and the fear he battled. Doesn’t sound very joyful to me! It sounds like he was experiencing the same ups and downs we feel, at times confident, at other times wondering. 

In v. 6, he tells us what finally helped him through his doubts and fears: Titus had arrived with good news that comforted his soul. At the very beginning of his letter, he wrote these words:

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

—2 Corinthians 1:3-4 NIV

Paul’s comfort didn’t come through some supernatural divine revelation as he studied and prayed. It came through the flesh and blood presence of his friend and fellow-worker Titus. In these weeks of social distancing, we’ve done as best we can staying connected through available technology. It is helpful, but there’s nothing that comforts like the face to face presence of another human being. It is perhaps the primary way God interacts with us, and there really is no substitute. 

Getting through tough times isn’t an unbroken path to glory. It has its ups and downs, its successes and failures. Just when it seems all is lost, God sends a Titus to reach out and pick us up. It’s a process, as he said at the very beginning of chapter 7: “...perfecting holiness in the fear of God.” I like that word, “perfecting.” Maturity and holiness aren’t something God lays on us with a divine magic wand. It comes step by step, inch by inch, as we stumble, pick ourselves up, and muddle our way through the conflicts and fears we feel, till we come out the other side and can say, “I am exceedingly joyful in all our tribulation.” I’m working on it, and am grateful for my friends and colleagues who are doing the same, and especially for the Tituses who come alongside at just the right time, ministers of the Greater Comforter Jesus himself promised us. My little Falcon may be spinning, but it will stop, and I can get out, collect my spiritual hubcaps, and keep on going to my destination.