There are few things more irritating than a diversion sign when we are already running late. We have a destination, a timetable and a reasonable expectation that the entire road network should cooperate.
Then comes the sign: ROAD CLOSED.
Our satnav announces, ‘Recalculating.’
Such a calm voice. It has never had to explain to a church full of people why the visiting preacher is currently behind a tractor.
We like a direct route. Education, career, marriage, family, preferably with convenient parking. We make our plans, enter them in the diary and ask God to bless them. Occasionally, we even consult him before booking.
Then life takes an unexpected turning. A door closes. An opportunity disappears. A responsibility arrives that we never applied for. Suddenly, the future bears little resemblance to the brochure.
And we wonder: have we lost our way?
Sometimes we have. We need wise counsel, honest reflection and the humility to change direction. But an unexpected road is not necessarily a mistaken one. A changed plan does not mean an abandoned purpose.
What if the detour is the road?
Joseph certainly travelled an unexpected route. God gave him dreams of a remarkable future. What followed was a pit, slavery, false accusation and prison. We might reasonably have requested a meeting about the itinerary. Yet years later, Joseph could tell his brothers that although they intended to harm him, God intended it for good, to preserve many lives (Genesis 50:20).
Their cruelty remained cruelty. God’s goodness did not excuse it. But their actions could not put Joseph beyond God’s reach. What others do to us need never have the final word on what God can do through us.
Joseph could see that looking back. Living through it was another matter. From inside the prison, he had no timetable for release and no reassuring email saying, ‘Your promotion is being processed.’
He had to trust God in the middle.
So do we.
We enjoy testimonies about God’s perfect timing, especially when the people telling them have already reached the happy ending. Waiting for our own is more demanding. We would all like patience, preferably by lunchtime.
Yet Joseph continued to serve. He took responsibility. He noticed the distress of his fellow prisoners and asked why they looked so troubled (Genesis 40:6-7). Even in his own disappointment, he had room for someone else’s.
We can be waiting for our circumstances to change while God is teaching us to notice who needs us.
That is one reason the story of Thomas Barnardo is so moving.
As a young man, Barnardo came to London to train in medicine, intending to become a missionary in China. His preparations brought him into contact with the poverty of London’s East End. Then a boy called Jim Jarvis helped change the direction of his life.
In Barnardo’s own account, Jim lingered after an evening at the ragged school. When encouraged to go home he explained that he had nowhere to go. His mother was dead; he had no home. Barnardo gave him food and something warm to drink. As Jim ate, the story of his life emerged. He also told Barnardo about other children sleeping outside.
Jim showed Barnardo the hardship around him: children finding shelter on rooftops and in the streets. Their plight helped turn Barnardo’s attention towards caring for vulnerable children. In 1870, he opened his first home for boys.
He had been preparing to cross an ocean. His next step was to listen to a child. There is something wonderfully tender about that beginning. A hungry boy was given a meal. A busy man stayed long enough to hear his story. Out of that encounter, a different future began to emerge.
Sometimes the most important appointment in our day is the one we never made. Barnardo’s story invites us to ask what we might be overlooking while we concentrate on where we hope to go.
A neighbour who needs company? A colleague whose cheerfulness is wearing thin? A family member who keeps saying, ‘I’m fine,’ rather too quickly?
We can become so absorbed in the life we expected that we miss the people in the life we have. The next step in God’s purpose may have a name and need a listening ear. Of course, changing direction is not always accompanied by a clear new calling. Sometimes it involves bewilderment, grief and a long wait.
A serious illness, a bereavement or a shattered relationship deserves more than a cheerful comment about taking the scenic route.
We should handle one another’s pain gently. Before we offer an explanation, we can offer our presence. Bring the meal. Make the call. Sit beside the person who has run out of words. Keep showing up after everyone else assumes life has returned to normal.
Faith leaves room for tears.
William Cowper wrote, ‘God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform.’
We often remember the mystery. We can also hold on to the conviction beneath those words: God is at work beyond what we can presently understand. Our view is limited. His faithfulness is not.
Perhaps we are caring for someone when we expected to be travelling. Starting again when we expected to be established. Serving quietly when we imagined a more visible role. There can be purpose here too.
God’s work in us continues while our plans are on hold. Jesus repeatedly noticed people along the road: a cry from the crowd, a touch on his cloak, a man watching from a tree. He gave people attention when others were ready to hurry past.
We cannot stop for everyone. We have responsibilities, and punctuality is a kindness too. But we can ask God to help us recognise which interruptions deserve our time.
A diary is a useful servant. It makes a rather demanding manager.
And when the unexpected road feels lonely, we can remember the journey to Emmaus. In Luke 24, two disappointed disciples were trying to make sense of Jesus’ crucifixion. They had hoped he would redeem Israel. Now they were walking away from Jerusalem, carrying questions they could not answer.
The risen Jesus joined them, although they did not recognise him. They were describing their shattered hopes to the very person whose resurrection had transformed their future. He listened. He opened the Scriptures. Later, as he broke bread, they recognised him.
Before they understood what God was doing, they were already walking with Jesus.
There is comfort here for us.
We may never understand every painful turning. Some questions stay with us. Yet the cross and resurrection give us solid ground for hope: God can bring life where we can see only an ending.
So when our plans change we can ask, ‘Lord, what does faithfulness look like here?’ Whom can we love? What can we learn? What is the next right step? We do not need to see the whole road to walk faithfully along the next stretch.
We can make our plans thoughtfully and hold them prayerfully. We can receive help, take wise advice and remain open to the good we can do today.
What if the detour is the road?
Then let us walk it with our eyes open. There may be a Jim Jarvis along the way.
And, recognised or unrecognised, Christ walks with us.
Lord Jesus, meet us on the roads we would never have chosen. Give us wisdom when we need to change direction, courage when we need to keep going, and tenderness towards those travelling beside us. Help us trust you with what we cannot understand and serve you faithfully where we are. Amen.
J.John
