The Book of Acts records the Apostle Paul proclaiming to an Athenian crowd, “Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, ‘To an unknown god'” (Acts 17:22-23).
If Paul wandered through our streets and businesses, if he followed locals on twitter, if he gathered with us at community events, would he categorize us as extremely religious? Granted, the phrase, “extremely religious” isn’t necessarily a compliment. Paul, at least in his own words, can be a bit “tongue and cheek.” Nevertheless, would Paul find us to be an extremely religious community, and if so, which religion would he assume has captured our hearts? Would he find an altar for every whim–A god for good moods, a god for good fortune, a god for the dinner table, a god for good health? Maybe he would find that we worship only one god–the Dollar Deity or Almighty Power, the Infallible Institution or maybe our god is the face staring back at us in the mirror?
Would Paul find an altar to an unknown god? At worst this is the altar of insurance or protection. Like the Athenians, we seem prone to make great sacrifices in order to feel safe against the unknown life offers. This is the god who calls us to stay where it’s comfortable, the lord of lukewarm promises and half-hearted devotion. It’s the “do the minimum to stay out of Hell”; rather than “give my life so that Heaven can be here on earth,” kind of god. Maybe this “Altar to an unknown god,” is really a table of fear. Call it a death tsunami, call it paradigm shift, call it schism, call it whatever you like, but understand that we offer quite a bit of ourselves at the altar of the unknown in order to appease the gods . . . but it’s too beautiful a day to be so cynical.
What is this altar at it’s best? The altar to an unknown god represents the mystery of our God and the humility of knowing that we can’t know everything. The stronger my relationship with God, the more comfortable I am with not knowing every detail of God’s providential wisdom. It’s not that I no longer care, it’s that I trust beyond measure. I trust that even when I’m in the dark, even when I miss a step, even when I’ve set up an altar for every mood, I turn and find that God has been there and continues to be there pulling my soul toward his abundant and infinite love. It is the altar that alters my fear from paralysis to action. It’s the altar that whispers, “Why are you afraid of inclusion,” and screams “The poor with be with you always; therefore I am with you always. Don’t sell expensive ointment to get rid of the poor, join them in washing each other’s feet with it.” The altar is forged for an unknown god, but the God of the altar knows us all too well. Listen, let go, and have faith.