I consider myself to be a defensive driver. That means I anticipate problems and leave margins for errors,  but I've learned about something new in the world of defensive driving.

     I'm told that older drivers are being taught to plan routes that avoid left turns, even if it means turning right, turning right again, turning right again, and turning right a fourth time, to avoid a left turn. Go past the turn and around the block clockwise. Proceed in the direction desired.

     I get a brain cramp just thinking about it.

     At the same time, I do plan my trips so as to avoid left turns in heavy traffic. I visualize my intended route, weeding out choices that will increase danger, stress, or travel time. I guess I'm closer to the clockwise approach that I thought I was.

     How often do I drive defensively when it comes to things like spirituality, stewardship, and church? How many left turns do I shy away from because they seem dangerous, stressful, or time-consuming? How often do I seek the shortest route from Monday to Sunday and the sermon I must deliver?

     We all know that the shortest distance between two points is a straight line, but do we all know that getting there is more than half the fun? That you can't be found until you know you are lost?

     I know a few ways that get me closer to God, but I wouldn't call these ways of getting closer to God the shortest distance between me and God. I wouldn't even say that the shortest way to God is the best. That would be the same as reducing God to a point, and me to another point.

     My wife, who loves both me and a good bargain, too,  is fond of teasing me for having a smallish head, what some might call a pinhead, and I in my turn am fond of reminding her of the slogan that I once saw spray-painted on a railroad underpass: Pinheads use coupons. I have a point, and she has a point, and thank God for hats. You've got a point there, I tell her. Do you want to borrow my hat, I ask her.

     God isn't a point. God is an are, a we, a totality, an all. God is a breaker of language and a healer of persons. God mocks our letters, words, phrases, and paragraphs by just being God, no offense intended, none taken. God is the meta in metaphor, the tri in trinity.

     Stop me before I start trying harder to make sense.

     People are fond of saying that God is bigger than we can imagine. Not so. To describe God as bigger than is to reduce God to something that we can compare ourselves to; or we compare God to something big like an ocean, or we compare God to something awesome and powerful like a tornado. God, for all that, is an are, not an it, no matter how big you draw that it. A 48-point period

 [.]

 is still a period, albeit a big one.

     Is there a point to all this? I hope not. The only point is mine, and I try to wear a hat so it won't show. Seriously, if you need this letter to have a point, I suggest reading again from the top. I couldn't help making sense. It’s just how I am.

     See you on the highway of life. I'll be looking out for you. I'll try not to be defensive. I may look lost to you, and perhaps I will be. Wave or honk. I'll honk back. We'll get there is it doesn't get dark on us. And as my wife is fond of reminding me, we'll get there even if it does get dark.

     Blessings and peace to you,

     Pastor Jon