What Sonny doesn’t know is that he’s on the road to other appointments that will forever change his life. He kills a man in a jealous rage; loses his family, and his church; then journeys down the road to a Louisiana bayou parish and starts another church.

In the case of "The Apostle," art surely imitates life. Indeed, the road to heaven is filled with sinners and believers, all of whom at some point or another encounter God on that highway.

We worship the God of divine intersections.

The Scripture this morning is from Acts 9:1-19, and we’re reading from Eugene Peterson’s "The Message":

There’s a story behind this message, and you might as well know it … some of you already do.

About six years ago I had this idea of using country music to reach the unchurched, but the idea fell by the wayside. About three years ago the idea was resurrected when I was between appointments. I was asked by a mentor to assist in his church’s exploration of offering an alternative worship service. As I looked at the community around the church, I suggested that country music might be a good venue to bring more people in. To my knowledge, it has not been done there.

I don’t really listen to country music much; I used to listen to outlaw country in my college days. But while I was on vacation with my wife and daughter, who do listen to country music, I spent about 1,500 miles listening and was captivated by the spiritual messages in various pop country songs.

This one in particular, Brooks & Dunn’s "Red Dirt Road," really grabbed me. It would not let me go … particularly the chorus:

As a writer, lyrics are more important to me than the instrumental content of a song. And when I first heard "Red Dirt Road," the lyrics resonated with me, and I began to think of the highway of life … which led me to the avenue of salvation … which led me to the road of justification … which led me to the path of sanctification.

At some point while considering this "Red Dirt Road," I also considered a verse from Larry Norman’s "One Way," a bit of verse that goes like this:

Two roads diverged in the middle of my life

I heard the wise man say

I took the one less traveled by

And that’s made the difference, every night and every day.

It definitely made a difference in Saul’s life.

Looking at the verse, you have to know something of where Saul was in his spirit when he took off down Damascus Road. About two chapters back, in Acts 7, we read of the first of the martyrs, Stephen. Scripture tells us that the disciple of Jesus known as Stephen had testified before the high priest and leaders of the synagogue concerning Christ, and the hearts of the people were "torn with vexation and they gnashed their teeth at him." They then stoned Stephen, and he knelt down and cried out, "Master, don’t blame them for this sin" — his last words. Then he died. And Saul was right there, congratulating the killers.

And then the Word says that Saul’s spirit was still murderous toward the church, the followers of the Way, when he headed down the Damascous Road.

Has your spirit ever been that way? I know mine has. You just get through tearing into someone for some alleged wrong and you head on down the road looking for someone else to tear into … and then you get interrupted by Jesus, and everything changes.

Scripture doesn’t tell us whether Saul had ever been down that road before. We know he came back that way, from Damascus to Jerusalem, after his conversion.

But as a tentmaker, it’s likely Saul had many familiar routes … just like roads you travel on every workday. You know the ones: where you find yourself unconsciously swerving to miss the high manholes and crater-like potholes.

Imagine yourself on the way to that modern-day tent shop where you work when — WHOP! — you’re blinded by the light; you experience Jesus-interruptus; you encounter God on Pellissippi Parkway.

Believe it or not, that’s where God is more likely to meet us:

-- not on some back-country Smoky Mountain trail we’ve never been on before;

-- not on some desolate stretch of beach;

-- not in a reflection on a snow-covered hill;

-- but on that red-dirt road we call life’s highway.

In my most recent course of study we discussed the Sacraments of baptism and Holy Communion. Reading the various texts caused me to re-evaluate the road I’ve been traveling with Jesus — how I got to this point in life and how it all fits together. That was important to me because in order to know where you’re going, you need a pretty good idea where you’ve been.

We travel a lot of roads in life and are given a choice which highway to follow. But regardless which road we’re on, regardless of whether we’ve taken a detour from the path God wants us to follow, he intervenes at various points; He gives us the opportunity to choose His road. The road of life takes us to various experiences and destinations, but the one thing we should always be watching for are signs of God’s grace and intervention.

The road traveled by sinners and believers essentially starts at the same driveway, and it’s the same road where we encounter God’s Prevenient grace — the grace that prevents us from falling so far away from God that we are unable to hear His loving voice calling us home. It’s like those street boundaries that your mom or dad marked off as acceptable neighborhood play, so that when the dinner bell rang, or mom or dad’s voice called out, they knew you could hear them.

No matter how far down the road we travel, God’s Holy Spirit can be found whispering in our ear, "Come home ... Come home ..."

It is the same road on which we experience His justifying grace. It was, after all, a dirt road covered with the blood of Christ that led to the cross on Calvary’s hill that we were justified before God.

The red dirt road of God’s grace is available to sinners ... and believers.

Whether baptized as infants — or toddlers, youngsters in elementary school, or teen-agers, or adults — as baptized Christians we are accepted and claimed by the loving Father. He looks down the road at us, smiling, saying, "That one there is mine. That one’s mine. And that one, too, …"

I don’t know about Kix Brooks and Ronnie Dunn’s thoughts when they penned "Red Dirt Road," but I have a strong feeling that Larry Norman’s writing of "One Way" may have started with a Robert Frost poem entitled "The Road Not Taken":

The red-dirt road of faith is often the one less traveled by. And it is the road where we hear His voice; it is the road where Jesus’ blood paid for our sin; and it is the same road where we give thanks for life, and grow in the faith.

It is the same road on which we encounter temptation ... and, yes, even sometimes succumb to sin.

But it is the road that leads to forgiveness — a red-dirt road that bears the blood of Christ.

I know about such roads ... and you do, too.

I was baptized at the age of 13, and crucified my savior over and over for 16 years until I was born again.

It was not even a year after my baptism that I drank my first beer; it was about five years later that I wrecked my first, then second, car, tearing them all to pieces.

And it was nearly a decade after than when I found Jesus! — eventually understanding that the road to heaven is filled with sinners and believers.

None of that is to minimize sin.

But the road we travel is, after all, a road of what we call sanctifying grace — grace that, when we fall, covers our sin and enables us to get up and drive down the road again.

Are you traveling that road of sanctifying grace? When you fall face-down into that mire of sin, are you availing yourself of the opportunity to ask forgiveness, get up, grab hold of the Holy Spirit’s power to defeat sin, and run again?

It is the road a grace, but it is also the road of discipleship.

It is along this very same road that we hear the call. Note that Saul was not just converted on that road to Damascus, he was called to take the message to Gentiles, Kings and Jews. And he did.

He preached in Damascus, the went to Arabia; was ordained at Antioch along with Barnabas as foreign missionaries; he formed churches in places like Thessalonica and Corinth. He converted the proconsul in Cyprus, and converted a jailer in Philippi.

Saul not only surrendered to Christ, he was not only converted, but he was called— and so are you and I. So are you and I.

We are all called into ministry in some form or fashion at our baptism. No one who bears the name Christian is exempt. We are called to take the message of the good news of Jesus Christ to the world! The late contemporary Christian songwriter Keith Green said, "Jesus commands us to go. It should be the exception if we stay."

"Jesus commands us to go … It should be the exception if we stay."

What is your ministry? What road is God calling you to travel in this journey of discipleship?

The roads in my life have at times been quite literal:

— As I struggled with substance abuse, there was the time I was on an Ohio highway in the dark of night when the Holy Spirit moved on this baptized Christian to rid myself of the sin that beset me. I answered ... but took the very next left turn and continued to drive on that pothole-filled road.

I know we’re not supposed to litter, but is the Spirit calling you to cast some sin out the window, and drive as fast as you can down the road, leaving it in a trail of red dust?

— Then there was another dark night, at the intersection of Northshore Drive and Kingston Pike, not long after I turned my life over to Christ at 29. You could say I was a victim of Satan’s road rage. He didn’t like what I was doing, and he was using Scripture to try and bump me off the road.

I shouldn’t feel special; he tried the same thing with Jesus in the wilderness. I didn’t know Scripture that well then, but I knew where the cross was. And there was one just off the roadway outside a church on the corner of Vanosdale and Middlebrook Pike. And I fell on my knees about 2 a.m. one morning, and said, "Lord, I don’t know if there is such a sin that can not be forgiven, but if there is and if I have committed such a sin, I can only trust in you Lord to forgive me."

I felt the Holy Spirit’s love lift that weight from my shoulders; felt at peace; and got back into that ’76 Camaro, and drove on down the road.

— And then there was the early morning on Cumberland Avenue when the Lord hinted that there was a call on my life — and His voice of call was mingled with His wonderful sanctifying grace. God told me that if I drank, He’d still love me, nothing would change that. But as a drinking alcoholic, I could not do His work. It took the salt out of my testimony about where He had brought me from.

Where are the intersections on the red-dirt road of your life?

Can you plot them with pushpins on the road map of your mind’s eye?

Are there blue highways, little detours off that main road God placed you on at baptism, when you were loved and accepted by Him?

Maybe you’re on a detour now, and you know Jesus is calling you back to that main road, to that One Way that he has chosen for you. Use this moment to get back on that road.

Or maybe you’ve never walked that sawdust trail to the altar. You can do it right now.

This red dirt road, the one that Jesus covered with His blood, is for you ...

If you’re at a crossroads … take that turn toward Jesus … Take it right now!

Our closing song is "Comin’ Home."

If Jesus is calling you, don’t wait: answer Him.

You can meet him at this altar this morning.

He’s waiting.

He’s waiting.

Howdies, Pastor Buzz Trexler

We’ve Come To Church, Pastor Buzz