God is like your GPS.
Sound familiar? I’ve heard that analogy a dozen times in sermons or devotionals. But God is NOTHING like my GPS. And for that, I am truly thankful. Let me explain.
But first, a little back story.
I am the poster child for the directionally challenged. I have absolutely no sense of direction and I get lost often. This is always an unpleasant experience.
Each fall, my sister’s family and my family want to visit a corn maze. And each year, I ask “Why?” Why does one choose to wander around aimlessly for hours in a state of perpetual “lostness”. Where is the fun in that? But being the
good sport I am, I go along. (Seriously, I am a bad sport and I go along, griping
the entire time, making comments like “Yeah, this is great fun. Who’s idea was
this again?” as we round the same patch of corn for the 3rd time.
But back to the GPS.
My husband swears by the GPS. I, on the other hand, have been disappointed by it on numerous occasions. I am more of a landmark person.
Turn right on Forever Green Ave. This is just after the McDonalds which is on your right and the Eternal Acres Funeral Home which is on your left. That language, I understand.
Go 20 miles, turn in 265 feet? This means nothing to me. And I really don’t like someone talking to me when I am trying to concentrate. That goes for Tom Tom, or Kim Kim, or as my daughter likes to call her, Gigi.
I am getting to the God part. Really!
So a few weeks ago, I was asked to give a presentation to a group of school counselors. The location was new to me, although I was somewhat familiar with the general area. (This is always a bad thing – I sort of think I know where I’m going.)
Because it was just about 20 miles from my home and I had plenty of time to get there, I thought I’d give Gigi one more chance. Big mistake.
I’m driving and I’m making great time. I’m sipping my coffee. I’m listening to Gigi and wondering what she does for fun when she’s not working.
Then she says, “Your destination is in 265 feet.” Okay. I slow down, but keep driving. And in 265 feet, I arrive at…
the Quick Trip.
While this would be a convenient place for the counselors’ meeting with all the coffee and hot dogs that could survive a nuclear explosion, I think something is not right.
I’ve had this feeling before. The panic starts to slowly creep in. It’s one thing to be late to a meeting and another thing to be late to a presentation that you are giving. What do I do? I immediately look for a friendly face.
And there he is. Mr. Handyman. I am relatively sure that is not his actual name but that’s what it says on the side of his truck that he was trying to quickly get in as I am calling his name.
After 5 minutes of him punching the address into his GPS (side note – years of handyman work make one a very slow typist) he says, “Well, it looks like you’re in the right place.” Then he chuckles. Yeah, it’s hilarious.
I thank him (and make a mental note of the make and model of his truck should I encounter him again and want to cut him off in traffic.)
Then I do what I hate doing, I make the call. In cases like this, I often call my husband and ask him to somehow google an aerial shot of my destination and talk me through it. I hate making this call. Not only does it highlight my weakness, but it also usually gets me a lecture about my lack of trust in the GPS and how I don’t listen to it, to stop being so literal, 265 feet is an approximation, surely the place is close by, just turn around, blah, blah, blah.
But, he doesn’t answer. So now my only choice is to call Dee, the person in charge of the meeting who asked me to make the presentation, and admit that I am not only lost, but odds are good I am also going to be late.
So God is NOT like a GPS at all. God is more like… Dee. Let me explain.
Not only does she answer my call (in the middle of leading the meeting) but she knows EXACTLY where I am and how to get me where I need to be.
AND she leaves the meeting, walks out into the parking lot and with one hand on the phone (still talking me in) she waves her arm as I pull in.
I made it. I can’t describe the relief I feel. When I get to her, still waiting for me in the event I can’t find the actual meeting room (good call, Dee, very perceptive!), she says, “I’m so glad you made it.”
So the life lesson today…
God is right here, waiting on your call. He knows EXACTLY where you are, He’s waving you in, and He’s so happy that you finally made it.
And there is indescribable peace.
And for that, I am truly thankful.
Next post: God is nothing like my Roomba.