“When I cry unto thee, then shall mine enemies turn back:this I know; for God is for me”
Psalm 56:9
There I sat, in bumper to bumper traffic, looking up at signs written in a language I could not decipher. Frustration had reared its ugly head ten minutes earlier, and panic was not far behind. Hot asphalt, neon signs, and exhaust swirled around me.
I was by myself in a city of 3 million, and I was lost.
An hour earlier, I had been accompanying one of my voice students for a Royal Conservatory of Music voice exam. The ride there had been without incident, as simple as following the 401 West for about 28 kilometers (17 miles) and taking a few turns.
I remember being a little proud of myself for actually making it to the destination. First of all, the 401 is the busiest highway in North America, so driving on it is always literally a bit of a trip.
Secondly, I was not well-acquainted with the city of Toronto and its many boroughs, nor used to driving there alone. But I made it, and it felt good.
Little did I know what was ahead.
The exam went well. My student and I sighed with relief, and I jumped in my car to head back home. Then it happened. Of course, it happened. A major accident on the highway backed up the already congested traffic. Several lanes and entrance ramps, were closed. I tried to reroute my way and found my efforts continually thwarted. Eventually, I realized that I was going in circles, and any confidence I may have started with disappeared.
There was no cell phone, no GPS—not even a good old-fashioned map.
Did I mention that Toronto is considered by many to be the most multi-cultural city in the world? There are over 200 different ethnic groups with over 140 different languages spoken, and at least 50% of its population is born outside of Canada (including me).
The foot traffic around my car and in and out of the small businesses and restaurants let me know that finding someone that would be able to direct me home—in English—would be slim.
Furthermore, finding a payphone was proving to be a challenge.
That’s when I pulled over into a small parking lot. Blinking back tears, I paused to catch my breath and have a little talk with the Lord. Together, we looked at the situation.
It shouldn’t be so hard, I reasoned. After all, I knew where I wanted to go. I just didn’t know how to get there.
I took a deep breath and forced myself to focus on what I did know.
Like, I did know that I needed to head east and that the quickly fading sun was going down in the west. I did know that Lake Ontario was to the south, and I needed to go the other way. With those two snippets of information, a plan was formulated.
Now, trust me, I am no Lewis and Clark. Longitude and latitude are not words that I even know the definitions of, much less how to use. But that day, using what I knew about the sun, I made a hopeful start by turning my car north.
After driving for several kilometers, I turned the car to position the sun at my back.
Then, by faith, I just kept driving. I wasn’t sure how far I had gone out of the way, or how long it would take me to see something familiar. I only knew that I was heading in the right direction.
It was quite some time before I saw a road sign that I recognized. I can still feel the absolute relief that washed over me as I turned down that road. With each successive turn, my confidence soared until finally, much later than planned, I pulled into my driveway.
Safe. Right where I was supposed to be, with my family inside waiting to greet me. That, my friends, was the best feeling I had all day because just two hours earlier, I had been turned around, lost, and confused.
And how many times, in my own life, have I gotten off course? How many times have I been unable to see past all that is in front of me—all that I can’t understand?
Quickly, darkness threatens to take over, questions come, and doubts arise.
I am getting better at remembering the points on my heart’s compass. Still, there are more times than I care to admit that with deliberate effort, I have to pause, breathe, and remind myself of what I know.
It always starts with this—I know You love me, Lord. Everything you send or allow in my life comes from Your heart of love and is ultimately for my good and Your glory.
The length of time spent on this truth is generally dependent on what fiery dart has been thrown my way. Admittedly, some strike deeper; some hit spots especially tender.
There was a long period in my life when I struggled to understand and accept God’s love. It’s not that I doubted that He loved me. I just felt He didn’t quite love me like He did some of His other children.
But, the two of us wouldn’t let go—me determined to be all right with my second-string status, and He determined to convince me of His love.
He won.
I once heard a preacher say that God’s love isn’t so much about whether or not we understand it, but that we stand under it. With a slight smile on my face, I move myself back under His love. My shoulders relax, my grip loosens, and I see the next truth. Resolutely, I turn the wheel of my mind—
I know You are in control. This has not escaped Your notice. You have not forgotten Your beloved daughter.
Purposefully now, I begin to turn my mind down familiar streets—
I know You are faithful. Right now, in a hundred ways (or more) that I can’t see, You are working even this out for my good.
I know You will never leave me. Ever. You are here with me. I am never alone.
The list of what I know about my unchanging, amazing God continues, and with each truth, I rehearse I feel my heart make its way back home.
I don’t always know how long it will take to get there; I only have to know that I am going in the right direction.
Many years ago, in a vast and busy city, I learned a valuable truth.
When lost—
focus on what you know,
check the points on your compass,
and turn your heart toward home.
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