The journey was going well and I was making good time
whizzing through Hampshire on the A34 on Monday morning. At this rate I would arrive at Abingdon
Baptist Church with half an hour to spare, grab a cup of coffee in their Oke
Street cafe and then chair the committee of The Baptist Union Retreat
Group.
And then...up came that ominous sign on the overhanging boards: ‘Road Closed’. My heart sank as fast as the car slowed and I joined a long line of traffic forced to exit the A34 at Newbury with not the faintest idea of how to get to Abingdon. Driving alone without a reliable passenger navigator meant I simply followed everyone else onto the M4 and then took the next turning off to Reading.
Once on a quiet road I connected the Sat Nav – but we soon fell out with each other! It constantly argued with me telling me to return to Newbury and however much I shouted back saying the road was closed it took no notice whatsoever! After fifteen minutes I think it got the hump and just went silent as if refusing to co-operate anymore – you get the picture?!
By now I was down to just using my initiative whilst trying to remember some of the names on the map I had studied five minutes ago. ‘Pangbourne’ came up and I seemed to remember that was on the way to Abingdon so headed off in that direction on a wing and a prayer (and Pangbourne is very nice – by the way!). During this unexpected detour (come to think of it can a detour be anything other than unexpected) I tried to keep calm and practice that ‘inner peace’ that we in the Retreat Movement talk about so often – I don’t think I was totally successful.
Eventually I arrived one hour late but thankfully just in time for lunch!
The metaphor of a ‘journey’ representing our life maybe one, that in your experience, is somewhat overused. However, I confess I still find it helpful.
And then...up came that ominous sign on the overhanging boards: ‘Road Closed’. My heart sank as fast as the car slowed and I joined a long line of traffic forced to exit the A34 at Newbury with not the faintest idea of how to get to Abingdon. Driving alone without a reliable passenger navigator meant I simply followed everyone else onto the M4 and then took the next turning off to Reading.
Once on a quiet road I connected the Sat Nav – but we soon fell out with each other! It constantly argued with me telling me to return to Newbury and however much I shouted back saying the road was closed it took no notice whatsoever! After fifteen minutes I think it got the hump and just went silent as if refusing to co-operate anymore – you get the picture?!
By now I was down to just using my initiative whilst trying to remember some of the names on the map I had studied five minutes ago. ‘Pangbourne’ came up and I seemed to remember that was on the way to Abingdon so headed off in that direction on a wing and a prayer (and Pangbourne is very nice – by the way!). During this unexpected detour (come to think of it can a detour be anything other than unexpected) I tried to keep calm and practice that ‘inner peace’ that we in the Retreat Movement talk about so often – I don’t think I was totally successful.
Eventually I arrived one hour late but thankfully just in time for lunch!
The metaphor of a ‘journey’ representing our life maybe one, that in your experience, is somewhat overused. However, I confess I still find it helpful.
On Monday my road was closed and I had to find another way;
it was annoying, challenging but eventually brought me fresh experiences as I
passed through new places and it taught me that I needn’t be totally dependent
on the Sat Nav after all – I can still read a map and actually get from a to b!
A few years ago I attended a funeral of a relatively young dad and we were all so moved by the words of his widow during the service. She spoke, as it were, from the pulpit to her two daughters telling them that together they had come to an unexpected fork, or twist in the road. From now on their journey wouldn’t be impossible but it would certainly be different – not the one they were expecting. Since then I’ve seen that family travel the road with exemplary courage and resourceful determination.
We all have moments when the road closes or diverts. This autumn I’ll be taking a new road when I begin at Amersham Free Church as one of their ministers. The church at Yeovil is already making plans for the next part of the journey on a new road.
The ‘God of The Journey’ is the ‘constant’ through all of this – He travels with the one who goes and stays alongside those who linger behind.
New roads await us all in the pilgrimage of faith – God grant that we journey well.
With best wishes,
A few years ago I attended a funeral of a relatively young dad and we were all so moved by the words of his widow during the service. She spoke, as it were, from the pulpit to her two daughters telling them that together they had come to an unexpected fork, or twist in the road. From now on their journey wouldn’t be impossible but it would certainly be different – not the one they were expecting. Since then I’ve seen that family travel the road with exemplary courage and resourceful determination.
We all have moments when the road closes or diverts. This autumn I’ll be taking a new road when I begin at Amersham Free Church as one of their ministers. The church at Yeovil is already making plans for the next part of the journey on a new road.
The ‘God of The Journey’ is the ‘constant’ through all of this – He travels with the one who goes and stays alongside those who linger behind.
New roads await us all in the pilgrimage of faith – God grant that we journey well.
With best wishes,
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