A while back, I was invited to a revival meeting at the Church of the Open Attic in a nearby town. Usually I am much too busy being Doctoral or Reverend to attend other churches' functions, but I decided that it might be a good idea to go. After all, I'd probably be introduced and asked to pray or something-at least be mentioned as the pastor of the church with the fastest growing third grade Sunday School class in our entire block.
I decided to ask my lovely wife and helpmeet(whatever that is) along for the ride. It would give us time for some fellowship and conversation-things that are sometimes in short supply for individuals with such a busy religious life as I.
So we hopped into the old jalopy and away we went. She began the conversation, "Do you know where you are going?"
"To heaven," I replied with a smile. An old preacher's joke. It gets them every time.
She wasn't laughing. " I mean, do you know how to get to the Church of the Open Attic?" Still no smile.
"Well, I believe I do," I said trying to deliver assurance, and so we drove on.
We had no trouble finding the town. I began taking a turn here and there.
"Are you lost?" inquired my darling.
"I don't believe so," I said, "But I may have gotten the directions confused a little."
"Well, why not stop at this phone booth and call the church? Whoever is already there should know how to get there?"
I had to admit that her reasoning was solid, but I was not willing to give up yet. It's so embarrassing for a Reverend to have to ask directions. I mean, we're so good at telling people the way. "I think if we take a right at the next light, it's just a couple of blocks to the church." A couple of blocks later we pulled up in front of Harry's Pool Hall and Pancake Emporium.
"This does not bear a resemblance to a church," said my dear one. "Do you still believe you know the way?"
"I think so," I said with stern resolve. "That's Beacon Street down there. If we take a left there, we'll find it."
No response from my pussy-cat.
We took a left at Beacon Street, a left at Hill Street, a left at Boynton Street, and a left at Jump Avenue.
"What does that next street sign say?" I asked gingerly.
"Beacon Street," came the icy reply.
"Oh," I responded. " Well, maybe it's time to ask someone."
"Why not just call there and ask them?" She insisted. There's nothing quite like a women when she's on the trail of logic.
"Well, because I really wouldn't want to admit that I don't know how to get there, would you?"
She did not hesitate to respond. "Well, it's either admit that you can't do it on your own, or never get there at all." I think I remember that line from one of my famous messages. I always suspected she was listening just to use it against me later.
  I must admit, it's difficult to argue with my wife when she throws one of these pragmatic fits. I figured out that it really didn't matter what I believe if what I believed couldn't get me where I wanted to go. I found a phone and made the call.
"Can you tell me how to get to the church?" I asked.
"Where are you now?"
"Let's see, I'm at Beacon and Jump."
"OK, you're only three blocks from us. Come straight down Beacon one block past Hill and there we are."
Boy, that was simple. I wondered why I hadn't done it sooner. My wife also wondered the same thing-and a few other things.
As I came out of the phone booth, I spotted a rather downcast young man on the sidewalk. I decided it was time to ask some questions.
"Young man, do you know how to get to heaven?"
"Oh, no," he muttered, "another one of those religious weirdos. "As a matter of fact, I believe I do know how to get to heaven. I believe that God just expects us to do the best we can, and we'll get there."
"Fair enough," I said. "And how do you know that what you believe is right? Have you ever believed you knew how to get somewhere, and ended up being wrong?"
"Yeah," he said," but I don't think I'm wrong about this."
"But could you be wrong about it."
He was becoming irritated, and since he was about a foot taller and a hundred pounds of muscle heavier than I, I decided to leave him with that thought.
There was no doubt that he really didn't want to admit that he didn't know how to get there; but I had discovered that very evening that just because you believe you know how to get somewhere doesn't mean you'll get there. And usually, after we ask that person, we find that the directions are so simple we might wonder why we hadn't done it sooner.
God is already there. He's told us how to get there: "Repentance toward God and faith toward our Lord Jesus Christ." Acts 20:21.
I guess it really doesn't matter what we believe about it.
By the way, we got to the meeting in time for me to pray. All was not "lost," so to speak. How about you?

Doc Trin