I don’t know what you think of Paul, the last of the Apostles. He can be quite a polarizing figure.  Once a prominent, powerful Jew, using his ruthless power to quell the “rebellion” of followers of the Way…then dramatically changed into a follower of the Way.

And Paul was not just a simple follower of the Way, but the person responsible for spreading the message of salvation by grace through faith in Christ throughout the known world.  So, what to think of such a man?

I have always considered Paul as a somthing of a hero.  Someone to emulate, someone whose words matter (they are, after all, preserved in many books in the New Testament).  Paul, in my opinion, is a man that God thought highly of.  He is noble, valiant, selfless, and purposeful.  He is in many respects, next to Jesus, the man responsible for Christianity.

But, recently, as I’ve been breezing through the Book of Acts, Paul’s insistence on getting into the middle of danger is a bit disconcerting.

Here I sit, as safe as one can be in a small town in Connecticut, many neighborhoods away from what could be considered a dangerous area.  In fact, I’m hours away from a major metropolis, which tends to be a little bit riskier to live in.  And, I’m oceans away from the real dangers in the world – Iraq, Afghanistan, countries where bloodshed and conflict are pretty much the order of the day.  And, I like it.  I like safety, comfort, and security.  My definition of living dangerously these days is when I choose to drive through the North End of Hartford, known for its poverty, drugs, teen pregnancy, and random shootings.  But then, I can always choose the highway and skirt the north end if I’m not feeling courageous.

But, Paul.  The hero of Christianity apparently did not follow “the way of safety.”  As I read of his insistence on getting to Jerusalem toward the end of Acts, it seems that friends and fellow workers tried to dissuade him every step of the way.

In Acts 20, Paul had decided to sail past Ephesus, so that he might not have to spend time in Asia, for he was hastening to be at Jerusalem, if possible, on the day of Pentecost.

Nothing strange about making tracks to be in Jerusalem, which was, after all, a prime spot to witness on the day of Pentecost.  Jews from every part of the empire came to Jerusalem on this day, and Paul was passionate about the Jewish people, Paul’s own people, desiring greatly that they know the salvation in Jesus Christ.

Not strange unless you pick up that on the journey to Jerusalem, when Paul and his companions landed in Tyre, they found the disciples and stayed there seven days.  And the disciples – by a divine revelation – told Paul not to go on to Jerusalem.

Then at Caesarea, another stop, a prophet named Agabus was even more direct.

And coming to us, he took Paul’s belt and bound his own feet and hands and said,”Thus says the Holy Spirit,’This is how the Jews at Jerusalem will bind the man who owns this belt and deliver him into the hands of the Gentiles.” Acts 21:11

Paul’s response to all of this?

Then Paul answered,”What are you doing, weeping and breaking my heart? For I am ready not only to be imprisoned but even to die in Jerusalem for the name of the Lord Jesus.” Acts 21:13

What about personal safety?  The wearing of one’s seatbelt? Is it possible that Paul’s Jewish mother – or his extensive training in the finest Hebrew academy –   had failed to teach him the verse in Psalms “In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety?” (4:8)

Or was Paul “in denial?”

It appears that Paul was fully aware that at the very least, imprisonment, and the very most, death, could be the outcome of his arrival in Jerusalem.  And yet he was hurrying to get there, anyway.

I can’t say that I get it.  If so many people prophesied to me that my next trip into the north end would land me in prison or kill me, why, I’d opt for the highway, of course.

It isn’t human nature to jump into the fray.

A friend shared with me that her daughter, a committed Christian, is interested in being a missionary nurse in Iran.  Iran, where Christians are imprisoned, where sharing faith is illegal, where torture and death could be part of the equation.

So, why go there?

All I can say is, people go there.  They reject the fleeting comfort and security of this world, look death and disease squarely in the eye, and they go there.  To danger.  To imprisonment. To death.  I totally admire these brave, selfless and often unsung heroes– from the screened-in comfort of my sunporch, of course.

Paul wasn’t the last to jump in, fully knowing that not only his 401K, but his very breath could end in Jerusalem.  Over the centuries, heroes and saints have followed his example, risking it all for something greater.  To be able to say

…that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Phil. 1:21-22

is so rare in a church that, like the world, is focused on convenience, comfort, and the American dream.  Yet, people have jumped into dangerous situations for less than Christianity’s claims.  Is our faith something worth dying for?

And how about me – I don’t want to drive in the north end?  Please deliver me, Lord, from my complacency and putting my comforts above all else.  Amen.