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My name is Tyler Moffett, and I serve on the young adult team here at Watermark. Since I was last with you, my family expanded—we had baby number four, little Jet. My family is now a family of six.
One thing we love doing together as a family is playing the game Uno. You have your plan—your cards counted out, your strategy set—and then someone throws down an action card. A draw two isn't a big deal, but then things get personal. The Uno reverse leaves you caught in the middle, and then there's the ultimate game-changer: the draw four wild. Play that one, and counseling may be necessary in your household.
The reality is Uno is a lot like life. We make our plans—who we'll marry, where we'll live, what job we'll have—and then, suddenly, life throws a reverse card. We didn't see it coming.
The Scripture we're looking at today in Acts 16 is like that too. God changes the course and plan of what feels like outside forces controlling everything, and all the while, He is weaving together a plan we can't see. As a church, we've been walking through the book of Acts all year. The past two weeks were a little chaotic—there was theological conversation at the Jerusalem Council, and then we watched Paul and Barnabas split up. Now we watch Paul, with his friend Silas, start moving toward Europe.
As we look at Acts 16, we'll see that God is steering a moving ship. It's moving, but God is steering it. There are three unexpected turns in this chapter that show us how God works even when our plans change.
To recap last week: Paul and Barnabas split up because Paul wanted to revisit the churches they'd planted, and Barnabas wanted to bring his cousin Mark. Paul refused, since Mark had deserted them before. So they parted ways—Barnabas took Mark, and Paul took Silas. That brings us to Acts 16:1.
"So Paul and Silas came to Derbe and Lystra, and a disciple was there named Timothy, the son of a Jewish woman who was a believer, but his father was a Greek. He was well spoken of by the brothers at Lystra and Iconium. And Paul wanted Timothy to accompany him... So the churches were strengthened in the faith, and they increased in numbers daily." (Acts 16:1-5)
Paul meets a young disciple, Timothy, whose mother is a believer but whose father is Greek. Paul wants Timothy to join him and has him circumcised—not for salvation, but to avoid confusion among the Jewish believers in the region he was about to revisit.
What seemed like a setback—the conflict with Barnabas—actually became a step forward. Look at the rest of Paul's ministry: it's Paul and Silas, and Paul and Timothy. In fact, the last two letters Paul ever wrote from prison were to his son in the faith, Timothy. What looked like Paul's agenda getting derailed was actually an opportunity for him to link up with his two closest brothers in the faith.
Conflict is not a setback. It's an opportunity. I have that phrase in my office, and I look at it every day. Some of us are so comfortable in our community that we can't see beyond it, and God allows conflict so we'll notice others we need to invest in. Or our relationships are superficial, and conflict is what pushes them deeper.
On my wedding day, I looked at each of my groomsmen and realized I had been in significant conflict with every one of them—my brother, whom I fought with so much growing up my parents bought us boxing gloves; a friend I clashed with over faith as kids; another friend whose engagement I questioned, causing a blow-up in our friend group. Yet all of that conflict grew us.//
Some of you right now look at your community group, your family, your friend group, or your roommates and think, this is a mess. But maybe God is using that conflict to deepen a superficial relationship or reveal an opportunity you didn't know existed.
Look again at verse 5: "the churches were strengthened in the faith and increased in numbers daily." The Greek word for "strengthened" carries the idea of being made solid—like a tree whose roots go deeper during a storm. Conflict is the opportunity to make your relationships solid.
Paul keeps moving—remember, God steers a moving ship. Let's pick it up at verse 6.
"And they went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia, having been forbidden by the Holy Spirit to speak the word in Asia. And when they had come up to Mysia, they attempted to go into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them. So, passing by Mysia, they went down to Troas. And a vision appeared to Paul in the night: a man of Macedonia was standing there, urging him, saying, 'Come over to Macedonia and help us.' And when Paul had seen the vision, immediately we sought to go on into Macedonia, concluding that God had called us to preach the gospel to them." (Acts 16:6-10)
Paul is motivated to reach Ephesus in Asia Minor, believing that's where the gospel can explode. But the Spirit forbids him. We don't know exactly how—maybe circumstance, maybe impression—but Paul understood clearly. So he turns north toward Bithynia, and again he's stopped. Finally, in Troas, Paul has a vision of a man from Macedonia calling for help, and he knows immediately where to go.
Think about how many times you've wanted to do the right thing—worked hard for the right university, pursued the right relationship, chased the job you love—and instead you got the rejection letter, the breakup text, the bad news in the HR meeting. Sometimes God does eventually answer, but the answer looks like an Uno reverse: "Thank you, but I didn't see that coming."
Here's the key: notice who is writing this story. Verse 6 says the Holy Spirit forbade them. Verse 7 says the Spirit of Jesus forbade them. Verses 9-10 describe a vision where Paul concludes God had called him. God is the one weaving together this story.
So here's the question: in the midst of the open and closed doors you experience, are you asking God, "Are you in this?"
When my son Jet was born three months ago, everything about the delivery seemed fine until we realized he'd swallowed fluid and was struggling to breathe. The doctors wanted to send him to the NICU. My wife and I had a kind of PTSD from our second son's weeks-long NICU stay, and I fought the decision. When they finally took him anyway, I went back to the room and vented to my wife, angry at the hospital, angry at God.
My wife looked at me through tears and said, "Tyler, I just need to know you're being led by the Spirit right now." It hit me like a punch to the gut. We prayed Psalm 73 together:
"Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."
That NICU stay ended up being much shorter than our other son's, and we're grateful for what the doctors discovered during it—God was weaving something together we couldn't see.
Some of you have had a door close that caused real pain, hurt, or embarrassment. Have you asked God in that moment, "What are you doing in this?" He may reveal it, or He may not. But God is weaving together a picture we rarely see the fullness of this side of heaven. Will you trust Him? Will you acknowledge Him?
Paul had a vision of a man from Macedonia urging him for help. When he crosses the sea, he goes looking for this man. Let's see what he finds.
"So, setting sail from Troas, we made a direct voyage to Samothrace, and the following day to Neapolis, and from there to Philippi... We remained in this city some days. And on the Sabbath day we went outside the gate to the riverside, where we supposed there was a place of prayer, and we sat down and spoke to the women who had come together. One who heard us was a woman named Lydia, from the city of Thyatira, a seller of purple goods, who was a worshiper of God. The Lord opened her heart to pay attention to what was said by Paul. And after she was baptized, she urged us, saying, 'If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come to my house and stay.' And she prevailed upon us." (Acts 16:11-15)
Paul is on a mission—what would normally take a sailor five days took him two. The wind was at his back; he felt the favor of God pushing him toward this man in his vision. But when he arrives, there's no synagogue, and instead of a man, he finds a group of women gathered at a place of prayer. He shares the gospel anyway, and one woman, Lydia, has her heart opened by God to receive the message. She's baptized, tells her household, and even invites Paul to stay at her home. A church is planted there in Philippi—the very church to which Paul later writes the letter of Philippians—and through it, the gospel spreads across Europe.
This is God's version of the draw-four wild. Paul expected one man to hear the gospel; instead, God gave him a whole gathering of women, a wealthy businesswoman named Lydia, and the birth of a church that would shape a continent.
Where is God wanting to use you beyond what you could ask or imagine? And where might you be a "Lydia"—someone with resources, position, and comfort, and yet still longing for more of God?
Just yesterday, I went to get a haircut, and my usual barber was unavailable, so I got linked up with a stranger named Isaiah. In conversation, he mentioned he'd recently broken up with someone and asked for relationship advice. As we talked, I asked if faith was central to the relationship, and he said, "That's wild you'd ask that—the reason she broke up with me is because I wasn't religious." We kept talking, I invited him to church, and he asked for my number. What looked like a detour—an unexpected appointment slot—became a divine appointment. That's happening in your life and mine all the time, if we have eyes to see it.
As great as this story is, it's really pointing us toward someone greater. Each of these themes finds its fulfillment in Jesus.
Conflict as opportunity for discipleship: Jesus saw our conflict with Him—our rebellion against the God of the universe—as an opportunity to press in rather than pull away.
"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. All this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation... Therefore we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God." (2 Corinthians 5:17-20)
Guidance through closed doors: Jesus followed His Father's guidance even when it was difficult. The night before He died, He prayed:
"Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours be done." (Luke 22:41-42)
He was saying, in essence, "I don't want this, but I trust you. Whatever you say, I will obey."
Detour turned divine appointment: The cross made no sense to those experiencing it in real time—that's why the disciples fled. Yet it's at the cross that all of history turned. What looked like the greatest loss became the very thing that changed the world forever.
"And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow... and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father." (Philippians 2:8-11)
Jesus died so that you didn't have to—that's the good news that we can be reconciled with God. If we place our faith in Jesus, then no matter what chaos and struggle this life brings, we have confident hope: our redemption is set, and our eternal hope is secure.
Where is your life not going according to plan right now? Where are you frustrated with your health, your relationships, your job, your finances—wishing just one thing would change?
Maybe today is the day to surrender that closed door, that chaos, that detour, and say, "I trust you." And maybe for some of you, today is the day of salvation—to come and say, "God, I need you. I believe in Jesus. I can't do this on my own. I receive you into my life, believing you're doing something I can't yet see."
Father, thank you that you never sleep, you never slumber. You are sovereign and fully in control. What feels like an Uno reverse in our lives is you weaving together a plan we can't see. The great picture of that is the cross—what seemed like loss, what seemed like a detour, was divine intervention on our behalf, to the glory of Jesus and to our salvation. God, help us believe that our God is good. We love you. We trust you in Jesus' name. Amen.
