on the road

We may be lost, but we are seen. We are known. We are loved.

There is something about getting in my car and driving with no GPS. The hills and farms that surround Waco are good places to explore with no agenda or timeframe. I spend some afternoons doing this. There is something comforting about being present in a space when only God knows where I am. 

Getting lost teaches me to pray with expectancy.

India is a great place for this practice.

My sense of direction is lacking. If I should go right, my inclination will always be to go left. In India, and in America, I typically rely on others I trust to lead the way and notice land marks.

Sometimes the people I am with and the people I trust don’t know the way.

We wind through the alleys and streets of Jaipur, India – The Pink City. The alleys are narrow and full of life. Shops open. People bathe. They worship. Cows wander. Motorbikes speed past. I pray. My nose fills with dust from the artisans crafting statues and gods. My nose fills with fragrance as people burn incense and welcome the day with devotion.

People stare as we wander through their street. They stare just as I would if unfamiliar people walked through my yard or took up the space that was usually available for my morning commute. The staring can be unnerving. So I smile at the women and children while doing my best not to make eye contact with the men. I trust that my friend – walking a few paces behind me - is embracing his role and watching out for me.

We have a map but it is too small and doesn’t show our meeting place. We find ourselves in a roundabout that we think should be our final destination. Cars, rickshaws, auto-rickshaws, camels, dogs, food carts, and humans. So much sun. So many noises. So many smells. I’m out of water. My buddy shares. We don’t see the rest of the group and it’s getting close to the time to meet. We climb the stairs of a tall temple and look out over the scene for familiar faces, bags, or clothes. No luck.

As we come down the stairs we ask someone for directions. He doesn’t speak English, but a nearby teenage boy does. He overhears us and says he is going that way too. So, we follow him. As we walk he tells us about the shop where he works and how close it is to where we are going. We reiterate that we must meet our friends. We walk and talk.

I chat with God as we walk and am thankful for this young friend whose presence is an answer to prayer. And then I think…what if he isn’t actually a friend? What if we end up further from where we need to be? But I choose to trust and continue following.

My trust is in my God who sees me and cares for me intimately.

We find our friends; much quicker than if we were alone. We thank our new travelling companion and talk a while longer. Sometimes getting lost allows you to find others and really see them.

Throughout my time in India I was continually struck by how lost I always am. It is easier to overlook my dependence on God’s mercy and provision with GPS, when help is always a cell phone call away, when I speak the same language as everyone around me.

I feel in control and safe within the city limits of Austin, Waco or College Station. I forget that I exist within my Father’s sight and care – and not because of my own effort. India reminds me that there is nothing wrong with using tools, with relying on friends and neighbors, but these people and things are worth thanking God for because they are a form of mercy and provision.

I need to be reminded that I am lost because it gives me space to be grateful that I am also found. I am seen, I am known, I am loved.