“I honestly didn’t see the sign, Officer.”
That’s what I sheepishly told the policeman. I don’t know if he heard the frustration in my voice or saw the desperation on my face, or if it was the out-of-state license plate that corroborated my case, but he believed me.
See, just a few years into our marriage, my husband and I thought it would be a good idea to fly into Miami, rent a car, and take a drive up the I-95 corridor on our way to visit my family in Kentucky. I had mapped out a plan to take a day’s detour to Disney World, then make a brief stop in historic St. Augustine, and finish our Florida leg in Jacksonville to see my cousin and her husband, who was stationed there with the Navy at the time. Then, we’d travel to the Great Smoky Mountains of Gatlinburg for a few days before reaching Kentucky.
It was a masterful plan. Just me, him, and the open road. Two crazy kids, as they say, adventuring through some of the most beautiful parts of my homeland, with no real agenda but just to invest in some much-needed quality time together. And other than a slight hiccup trying to find our way out of Miami, I’d say the first two days went rather well.
Then there was Day 3.
After revisiting our day’s route in our trusty atlas, we said goodbye to my cousin in Jacksonville and headed north. And yes, I said atlas. Because in those days, there was no GPS. No Google Maps. Not even a cell phone. Just me, with my highlighter, connecting the roads on the respective pages of each state and him, relaying the route as we’d go. It’s crazy now to think how we ever made it anywhere without GPS, isn’t it?
Anyway, we were well over four hours into our journey that day and had long crossed the South Carolina state line. I looked over and my “co-pilot” had fallen asleep. But I had the route pretty much engrained in my memory, or so I thought, so I didn’t bother to wake him. But I should’ve. I really, really should’ve.
I mean, all I had to do was stay on I-26W, right? Well, yeah. But with all the exchanges going into Columbia, I got it wrong. Like seriously wrong, friends. Somehow, someway, we ended up in downtown Columbia, in the middle of some summer street party, going the wrong way on a one-way street. I kid you not.
With the bass from the speakers on the street rattling the windows, my husband woke up to a swarm of unhappy partygoers staring in the windshield of our car.
“Um, Steph, where are we?”
“Lost.”
Embarrassed, somewhat defensive, and a little panicked, I cracked my window to attempt to ask someone for directions to get back on the Interstate, but the jeers from the multitude shouting, “You’re going the wrong way,” made the effort futile. Not even another glance at the trusty atlas helped. Things were not going well anymore. We were literally stopped, in the middle of a crowded street, going the wrong way.
Then I heard it. Tap, tap, tap. I looked out my window to see a police officer standing on the other side of the glass.
“You do know y’all are going the wrong way down a one-way street, right?”
“So I’ve been told. I honestly didn’t see the sign, Officer.”
I proceeded to tell him a brief synopsis of our travels, that I obviously hadn’t navigated the interstate exchanges around Columbia well, and how my efforts to find my way back on the interstate brought me to the point I was.
I was a nervous wreck. How on earth could one wrong turn, one errant decision, one simple misstep cause me to deviate so badly from a plan so carefully crafted? I mean, we should’ve been nearing the North Carolina border by now.
Instead, I was ending my discourse with the officer by apologizing for getting it all wrong. And much like the festive crowd that was still staring at us, I was expecting a rebuke from him at the very least.
But he offered the complete opposite. You see, God’s grace met me as I was heading the wrong direction on that one-way street. It met me, in the form an officer, who, rather than rebuke, patiently turned us around and kindly put us back on the right course that was meticulously mapped out for us.
And I want to do the same.
My friends, there are so many in this world who are heading the wrong way on the one-way street that Jesus paved. Whether they got there because of one errant decision or many a misstep, or whether they are just following the crowd, God has been using circumstances to remind me lately of the urgency to start tapping on windows. To be the one that, instead of offering a loud rebuke, kindly lets them know that they are going the wrong way. Yes, to be the one that meets them with grace and points them to the only Way that leads to the destination God has deliberately designed.
Jesus said to him, “I am the [only] Way [to God] and the [real] Truth and the [real] Life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.” – John 14:6 (AMP)
So, no matter how long we’ve been stationed in this overseas life or if you’ve returned “home” from the field. No matter how directionally challenged we may personally feel in this season – my fellow Kingdom workers, we still have a job to do. Don’t get distracted. The harvest has never been more ripe.
Are there detours in your life that are causing you to lose focus on the mission God has called you to? How can I pray for you?
