LOST AND WITHOUT A CLUE

LOST AND WITHOUT A CLUE

                It was late when I left Abishai’s place and headed for home. We had been in a rather long recording session at his little studio in the backwoods mountains of Tennessee. It was windy outside and about as dark as a night can be as the sky was cloaked with a heavy mantle of black clouds. But I knew the way home, having driven this route many times over the last month or so.

                I had driven maybe 10 miles when I came upon a police roadblock. A patrol man drove back my way and I rolled down my window. He informed me that there had been a terrible wreck up ahead and that the highway would not be open for at least two hours. He asked me if I knew an alternate route home and I said no. So he sent me back to an intersection a few miles back and gave me a list of highways that would lead me to a certain little town (about 40 miles from my home) and there I could pick up a highway heading back to my hometown of Clinton.

                I should have just turned around and gone back to Abishai’s house and waited out the 2 hour roadblock there, but I have a GPS and so I set it for “home” and headed out. Well nothing was familiar and I want to tell you that if there is really a place called “nowhere”, I was in the middle of it, negotiating windswept hairpin turns and high mountain passes and I was becoming worried because my GPS kept recalculating and recalculating and there wasn’t a living soul around.

                As it turned out, my GPS had never given up on my original intent and after about a half hour to 40 minutes of being completely lost I suddenly began to recognize things. My GPS had taken me back to where I had started from, determined that I would stick with my original route and now I was back within a couple miles of Abishai’s house. So in a bit of belated wisdom, I returned to Abishai’s house, where we mixed down another song, while the highway was being cleared of its tragic wreck. We worked until about 11:30 PM and then I headed for home.

                There is nothing good feeling about being lost. Every wind whipped tree and blowing branch becomes a leering ghost. Otherwise friendly mountains suddenly become taunting enemies that seem to purposely block our way home.

                Like I felt last night; there are many people who are completely lost. They have no idea where they are or where they are headed. Voices keep telling them to go this way and that and since they really don’t know the way home, they have no idea which voices are true and which ones are simply leading them in circles.

                Unlike my GPS, God never gets lost and He never recalculates. His road is not of this world and so He always makes a way for us even when there are road blocks and tragic accidents. Our problems usually stem from listening to the wrong voices and allowing ourselves to be guided by the world. We begin to adopt a world view of things and we lose our sight of heaven. We get off on wild and winding roads to nowhere and we begin to get caught up in the world’s stress and fear and doubt.

                I love the story of the Prodigal son, for it is my story. I was the one that ran away from God for a season, having lost faith in what I had once believed. I floundered through a number of wasted years in search of something familiar. And when I finally found it I realized that I had gone full circle back to where I had started. I was back in my Father’s arms again. So I left the recalculating GPS behind and I placed my faith in the unchanging unconditional love of my heavenly Father. No more alternate routes. No more backroad wandering. ”For the name of the Lord is a strong tower, the righteous run into it and they are safe.” Proverbs 18:10

                Lost sheep and lost sons are God’s enduring story. He doesn’t turn the porch light off and go to sleep. In fact He scans the horizon longing for the day when we will return to Him.

                There are two parallel stories in the Bible, one about a lost sheep and another about a lost son. In the story of the lost son, the Father waits for him to return, while in the story of the lost sheep, the Shepherd goes out into the storm to search for the helpless lamb.

                Sheep do not know the way home and so the Shepherd must seek for them and find them. But sons do know the way home. They have turned away from the Father thinking that there must be a better way. And because they do know the way home, they must make a decision. Sometimes they come to the end of themselves and finding themselves in a hopeless and dead end situation, they remember the good old days when they were in their Father’s care. So in desperation, they turn their steps toward home.

                This turning toward home we call repentance. It represents a decision to turn back to the Father and away from the life that they have been living.

                In some of today’s modern churches they no longer want to talk in terms of repentance. In effect they say “Party on dude, the Father loves you like you are.”

                It is true. The Father absolutely loves you the way you are, but He is nevertheless waiting for you to turn your steps toward home. He doesn’t recalculate, for His truth has been established from eternity. His Son was slain from the foundation of the world. Rev. 13:8.

                The way of the cross always leads home. There are no alternative routes. Freedom comes when we are crucified with Christ, for in that moment we are released from the prison of this world and we become members of a kingdom that is not of this world. Jesus, as our High Priest, sends down His Holy Spirit, to become our inner GPS. The Holy Spirit is never lost and His Word is unchanging and true. If we will live by the Spirit and the Word we will not follow the roads of the flesh. We will not get lost on dark mountain roads. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for Thou art with me. Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me.” Psalms 23:4

                If you find yourself negotiating steep mountain roads; following a GPS that is taking you in circles, perhaps it is time to take the road less traveled… the road that leads by way of the cross, “For it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.”

The prayer of St. Francis. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. St. Francis was born at Assisi in 1182. After a care free youth, he turned his back on inherited wealth and committed himself to God.

                Each one of us has our own story to tell of how the Lord rescued us… how He embraced us and wrapped us in His robe of righteousness and carried us home. If you have not yet found your story; it comes by way of the cross and heaven is just a prayer away.