As many of you know, Jack never met a map he didn’t like. His affinity for them started when he was a boy taking road trips with his Aunt Laura. She’d hand him a map and go where he said. What adventures he had with her! Those were dear times for nephew and aunt. And over the years he developed an unerring sense of direction. As long as I knew him, he could be counted on to get us from Here to There without confusion.
Which made him the perfect person to redirect a young couple we met at a rest stop outside of Pittsburgh. They were on their honeymoon and had been traveling from Philadelphia to their destination: a cabin in …the Poconos. After four hours, they thought they must be close.
(Don’t you wonder who first said, “Maybe we should stop and ask directions?”)
Jack gently, sympathetically, broke the news to them that, not only were they not any closer, they were on the wrong road altogether. With every mile, they were getting farther and farther away; in fact, they would never get to the Poconos if they kept doing what they were doing. They stared in disbelief at the map as the reality dawned on them: the only way to get where they wanted was to turn the car around, retrace their steps, and start again, again.
As hard as the truth was, there was relief in it. Jack had driven that road many times before. His experience bore out what the map had also revealed – to get from Here to There, they needed to turn around. Probably the most comforting scenario would have been if he could have ridden in the car with them all the way home, but I would have had to put my foot down on that.
I’ve recalled this story often over the years because it is how I live life. I get way off track and find myself where I did not want to be. Eventually it occurs to me I should stop, get directions, and begin again, again. How comforting to know that God has been down this road, He knows what I need, and He will even get in the car with me and travel the whole way Home.