Lost

As I wheeled my shopping trolley towards the supermarket checkout, I noticed a neatly dressed man standing nearby, looking confused.

‘I’m new here,’ he told me. ‘Can you tell me how I get out?’

A little confused myself as to why he could not see where to go, I guided him through another checkout. But as I finally left the supermarket myself, I saw this same gentleman standing outside, still confused. This time, I went up and asked if he was okay.

‘I’m lost,’ he told me. ‘I came on the bus but stopped to look at something and the others went on without me. I’m from the Christadelphian village. Do you know where our bus is?’

I did not but suggested we try the two main exits. At the first, there was no sign of his bus so we headed for the other at the far end of the centre. As we walked, he told me his name was Michael and that he was 84. I felt so sorry for him as, by this time, he looked so agitated and tired. We made it to the second exit – but again, no bus.

We then headed to the information counter but it was unmanned. So, I asked for help in a nearby chemist and someone pointed to a security guard hurrying by. I yelled out to him and discovered the bus pulled in at a tradesman’s entrance at the edge of the food court, so off we went again.

We had almost reached this entrance when my new friend’s face suddenly lit up.

‘There they are!’ he exclaimed with great relief and headed straight for a group of older people seated nearby. He hurriedly plonked down next to them and began to wipe sweat from his forehead.

‘That was a terrible experience,’ he said, gasping for breath. ‘Thank you very much for helping me!’

I turned to explain what had happened to the young carer in charge of the group but, to my shock, she did not seem too fazed at all – or even too inclined to care for Michael.

‘I think he needs a glass of water at least,’ I told her in my most disapproving tone, before wheeling my trolley away. But when I arrived home, I found I was still fuming. Surely they could have cared better for this poor gentleman? If I had not noticed him standing there so distressed, someone else would soon hopefully have helped him, but how long would that have taken?

Later, when I told my husband the story, I began thinking how graphically it depicted our own lost state when we do not know Jesus Christ. We may set off happily enough in life, following along with our friends and trying all sorts of different ways and experiences. But at some stage, like Michael, we may end up well and truly confused, alarmed and even hopeless. We may ask here and there for help but find none. Yet, Jesus is constantly reaching out to us, longing to set our feet on the right path again.

May we each respond with sincere love and gratitude as we are found by him and welcomed home!

‘I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’ John 14:6

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Caught by surprise again

I never cease to be amazed at the neat things God does in my life. Just when I least expect it, I am surprised yet again with some kind act or some special insight that leaves me gobsmacked.

This past weekend, I found myself trying to round off that final chapter of my current work in progress—a non-fiction book, entitled Coming Home to Myself. Should be simple, right? Hmm—wrong! Instead, I found myself writing several paragraphs, then deleting them—over and over again. I swapped them around. I shortened them. I split them up. But nothing seemed to flow well.

As you might imagine, I became somewhat frustrated. I have struck difficult patches in my writing before, but this time, it all seemed particularly confusing. Eventually, I stood up and declared out loud, in a firm voice, ‘This is enough!’ I then prayed, still out loud, asking God to show me the way forward. Almost immediately, the thought came to go to our china cabinet and get out my set of five wooden Russian ‘babushka’ dolls I bought at a market stall in London years ago, simply because I loved them. I had always envisaged these dolls featuring on the cover of my book. In fact, I mention them in my introduction, since, to me, they depict my own journey over the years, as God has gently removed various self-protective layers from my life and enabled me to become who I believe I was created to be. But I had never thought of mentioning them again, to conclude my book.

I took them back to my desk and lined them up. The words began to flow, almost carrying me along with them. Then, as I wrote, out of the blue, I remembered how I had once dropped the smallest doll of the set and how I had been unable to find it for years. Then one day when we moved the whole china cabinet, there it was, right at the back underneath it. I had forgotten that whole experience, but saw immediately how it fitted in so well with the theme of my final two paragraphs, which stresses the importance of not losing sight of who we are at the very centre of our being—that person made in the image of God, created to show something of God to the world in our own unique way.

I almost laughed with joy as I wrote. How freeing it was, as those words flowed out! I could feel the lightness in my spirit and such a sense of the fullness of God in me. Surely God had prompted me to stand firm against that overwhelming confusion, to get out those Russian dolls and to remember, as I did, my experience of losing—and finding—that littlest doll all those years ago. Again, I knew I had been privileged to experience another touch of God’s amazing love and grace in my life, just when I least expected it and in a way I could never have envisaged.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”  Isaiah 55:8-9

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