For Reasons Unclear
I am relatively well-traveled, and, like any well-traveled individual, I keep a list of cities in which to avoid car traffic at any cost. I mean, I could listen to four hours of good podcasts because I’m stuck in a bumper-to-bumper situation, but if I can avoid it, I’m going to choose door B.
This summer we found ourselves driving through Toronto. As you can probably guess, this city is on my list. Toronto is actually one of my very favorite cities, but the rule is: drive near it, take public transit to it if at all possible. We broke our own rule and suffered the consequences. That was three hours of my life I’ll never get back. We were stuck in a parking-lot-style traffic jam. The problem with parking-lot-style traffic jams is that you usually have zero idea why the road isn’t moving, why you’re stuck for hours and hours. You could take the detour, but that usually opens questions of its own – where am I?
Sometimes, we can’t see the road up ahead. We just can’t. Maybe it’s blocked off. Maybe it’s really, really dark during that particular season. Maybe there’s rain, a deer, or really bright headlights. You name it, sometimes things and people and life blocks our ability to see.
Often, we can’t see the road ahead for reasons unclear.
The Book of Deuteronomy in the Old Testament of the Bible opens with much less fanfare than Genesis or Exodus. By the time we get to Deuteronomy 1, the Israelites have left Egypt, crossed the Red Sea on dry ground, built a golden calf, eaten some manna, begun to tabernacle, and have settled into a routine of following God in a pillar of cloud or fire every day and every night. Four times in the first three chapters of Deuteronomy we see this tiny little phrase,
“We turned…”
The Israelites went in the direction of Horeb, of the Red Sea, of Moab — not of the Promised Land, not the ideal land.
I often think of the second-generation Israelites in that wilderness of wandering for forty years. I think of the babies born the day after Israel said, “No, thank you,” to the Promised Land that first time (Number 13-14). I think of toddlers and school aged kids and developmentally disabled adults and grandmas with dementia and the one guy who said, “Hey, I think we should listen to God…maybe…just an idea? OK, no. OK. I get ya. No problem. I’ll just be over here, quiet, brooding.”
For those people — well, for most of them — their reality looked like a road ahead they couldn’t see, but for reasons not entirely clear. Sometimes we lay our own roads and paths by making choices and following turns and bends. Other times, it’s just all we can do to step out and know we’re doing the best we can with what we’ve been given.
When the reasons are unclear, the Lord remains clear.
Psalm 86:11 gives us a good prayer for times the path is uncertain and reasons are far from us:
Teach me your way, O LORD, that I may walk in your truth; unite my heart to fear your name.
The Hebrew word for “teach” is related to arrows and direction, authority, and a clear shot. Job asks God to point out his iniquity using the same language (e.g., 6:24). It’s an invitation for God to rock our hearts and rock our minds with His Law and His Gospel. It says to the Lord, “You know my deepest places, know me deeper still. I walk the way You walk. May Your road be my road.”
When reasons are unclear, we rest in our relationship with a God who is abundantly clear about His love for us. Because His love for us isn’t in question, we know He walks beside us, in front of us, behind us, and, when we need it, underneath us to pick us up and move us right along.
Traffic jams stink. Sometimes life does too. In life’s unclearness we can feel unmoored, lost in the woods, but we look to Him, our Light in dark places, our Light in broad daylight. Light our path, Lord; make our way clear.
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