The Unexpected Road
An unexpected crisis, a frustrating detour, or a messy stumbling-block, can send us into a tailspin. Things like pandemics really play havoc with our 21st Century sensibilities. Our autonomous lifestyle rebels and shouts that this should not be happening to us. The present Coronavirus intrusion bedevils the pop philosophy that tells us we should live in the moment. But society is crying out, “This is not the moment we want to live!’
Just now we are doing that very thing; we are living in an unwanted moment, and we have no choice. Nature has intruded into our personal space and we don’t like it. But we are all helpless to escape. The invisible and mysterious enemy called Covid-19 parks it’s inconvenient realities right in our face—literally. Even in this age of marvelous technological wizardry, we are forced to face ourselves and acknowledge we are boxed in by our own personal and societal limitations.
When I first began to write this post, I was sitting in a doctor’s waiting room, observing obligatory social distances. No, not because of the Coronavirus, but for an unrelated follow up needing medical attention. Trying to use a touch screen device with gloves on makes it difficult. Even the helpful stylus has its limitations. Endeavoring to be healthful is hard work, and it doesn’t easily fit with a snappy “you deserve a break today” bromide.
I’ve run into other unexpected roads in life. I learned to drive a car on an unexpected road with my dad being my teacher. I remember that first experience was on an isolated country road in northern Wisconsin after a Sunday morning church service. Dad took me with him when he preached at a tiny rural church way out in the boonies. On that gravel road, with no one in sight, he turned the steering wheel over to me for my maiden voyage. I drove for about a mile, and then turned around to return and was greatly embarrassed as I saw my erratic tire tracks in the soft gravel roadbed. Unexpected roads can be daunting and humbling.
Sometime later, about a month after obtaining my driver’s license, the Lord called our dad out of this life. I was left to be the family chauffeur at the ripe age of 16. That was an unexpected road for me to travel — whether I was ready or not. A few years later I was driving a school bus, and then various other vehicles while serving in youth ministry during my college days. Eventually I learned to navigate mountain roads in Wyoming and Colorado as a leader on youth camping trips. Those were challenging and formative days, and yet a great God has been an ever-faithful guide on every one of those roads.
But the darkest and most difficult journeys do not come by disease or inexperience. They flow from the struggles of the heart. They come from our innermost being when we realize our limitations. It is here where we encounter our need for rescue, guidance, and peace during fearful moments. Just like the deadly Coronavirus teaches us; we need help from outside of ourselves to meet the challenges of the unexpected, as well as the difficult experiences of life.
The powerful and gifted personality, the Apostle Paul, confessed personal self-limitation when he recorded the Savior’s words to him, “My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9. Because of the Savior’s redeeming work on the cross, we are all able to receive the grace and power of Christ for our journey.
We have a great privilege to look past ourselves and to focus on those who need the message of hope. This song came from the WW II era and was composed by a pastor in India. It was sung by believers living with the uncertainties of war in Burma and northern India.
Gerry Carlson is retired from a life of active ministry and lives in Florida.