Shave and a Haircut -- To Wit

Before he sailed, he had his hair cut off because of a vow he had taken (Acts 18:18).

This simple sentence fascinates me. Why was it included in the scriptures?

Just before he left for Syria, the apostle Paul got a haircut. His biographer, a doctor named Luke (who wrote most of the New Testament, by the way) tells us that it had something to do with a vow he had taken. Did Luke know what vow it was and conceal it from us? Or was its essence known only to Paul?

It doesn’t seem fair. After all, we read the Bible in order to gain spiritual enrichment. If Paul had taken a vow, shouldn’t we know something about it? Why keep us in the dark?

Or maybe the fact that we don’t know is precisely the point. Perhaps the content of his vow is of less consequence than the fact that he made one. Maybe the writer merely wants us to realize there was more to Paul than what met the eye. His spirituality was not always on public display.

Some have speculated that Paul had taken the Nazirite vow, a vow most notably taken by the strong man named Samson. Among other things, it involved letting your hair grow. The vow was over and Paul got a haircut.

Perhaps. Still, I find the absence of comment telling. We’re afforded a peak into Paul’s personal spirituality. His life with God was genuine and authentic. He had a depth which went beyond his public persona, and the writer of Acts wanted us to have a peak it Paul’s inner spirituality.

Years ago I found a pair of Oakley sunglasses in the parking lot at Target. My family was with me as we celebrated the discovery. No sooner had I arrived at our car than my conscience got the better of me: “You ought to return those to the store. They don’t belong to you.”

I reluctantly trudged into Target. (I’m certain that had my kids not been with me I would never have done it. I really wanted those glasses!)

“I found these in the parking lot outside,” I said to the service counter attendant.

“Wow! Nice glasses!” he said.

“Yes, I know,” I replied. “Can I leave my name in case no one claims them?”

“Are you kidding?” he said. “They’ll come back for these.”

I persisted, but he would have none of it. I had the impression he intended to keep them for himself. I was upset but kept my composure. Turning away, I felt angry and depressed.

As bad as that was, the worst part of the whole affair was this: while I walked toward my car a Voice in my head said, “Steve, this was between me and you. It was not a sermon illustration. Keep it to yourself.”

“What?” I thought. “If I can’t keep the glasses for myself, at least I should get a good illustration for my efforts!”

The Voice insisted: “You heard me. No glasses for yourself. No grandstanding before your kids. No sermon illustration to make you look good. Just me and you and the right thing to do. Keep your mouth shut.”

As a result, I have kept my secret for twelve years. Until today. Oh well.

Before he left Target, he had his illustration cut off because of a vow he had taken.