Kitchen Table Wisdom

Photo of a road I once traveled.

It has been a whirlwind the last few weeks.

First, being the storyteller for VBS. Then, an art counselor at Camp Penn. A rushed trip home, only to repack and head for Columbus, Ohio, for the SCD Conference, where lay and clergy leaders from across the connection gathered for four days to reimagine the future of the church and prepare to live into it.

Then the journey home, a quick visit with my sister, a family reunion—and somehow, Sunday morning arrived, and I was standing in the pulpit preaching about Joseph and Peter and the unexpected turns in their lives.

Last year, I could not have imagined those three weeks.

Going into them, I had no real strategy for getting through those weeks. I simply kept moving, snatching rest when I could, knowing that eventually the whirlwind would stop.

I knew there would be a time to pause, breathe, and reflect on where I had been and how I had gotten there. I just had to persevere.

Perhaps that’s what kept me going. I didn’t need to think about the whole journey. I just had to keep taking the next faithful step, trusting that rest would come.

Maybe that’s why I find myself thinking about roads.

Broken roads. Crooked roads. Roads full of unexpected turns, unexpected beauty, and sometimes unexpected pain. And somehow, through all of them, God has been leading me into a story bigger than I could have imagined.

In Sunday’s sermon, Joseph found himself wandering in a field.
Genesis tells us that a man came across him and asked, “What are you seeking?”
Joseph knew the answer: “I am seeking my brothers.”

He wasn’t wandering because he had lost his purpose. He had been sent by his father to find his brothers and report back. He was doing what he had been asked to do.

And yet he was wandering.

I find something strangely comforting about that. Sometimes we can be faithfully doing what we believe we are supposed to do and still find ourselves wondering where the road is taking us.

Joseph was merely doing what his father had asked him to do: seek his brothers.
He had no idea that his search would lead to a pit.
He had no idea his brothers were about to sell him into slavery.
He couldn’t see Egypt.
He couldn’t see the prison or the palace.
He couldn’t see the years that would pass before he understood what God was doing.

He simply knew what he was seeking.
And then the road changed.
His brothers were not where he expected them to be.

There have been plenty of times when I thought I knew where I was going. I had a plan. I knew what I was supposed to be doing. And then the road changed.

Sometimes the change was painful. Sometimes it was simply unexpected. And sometimes, looking back, I can see that the change opened a door I could not have imagined when I was standing on the other side of it.

That’s one of the things I have learned along the way: an unexpected turn isn’t necessarily a wrong turn.

We are often too quick to assume that when life doesn’t go according to plan, something has gone wrong. But maybe the road has simply changed. Maybe a turn we didn’t expect doesn’t mean we’ve taken a wrong turn.

I certainly don’t believe that every painful thing happens because God planned it that way. Some things are painful because life is broken. Some things happen because people make choices that hurt us. And sometimes, what first feels like a curse can lead us to a blessing we never expected.

I am learning: God is present on the roads I never intended to travel.

When my husband was dying, I couldn’t see beyond the next day. When my granddaughter was struggling, I couldn’t imagine what good would come from it. When it was time to leave a congregation I loved, I could see only what I was leaving behind. I felt like I was leaving something unfinished.

I was learning not to look too far ahead, to trust God with what I couldn’t see, and to accept that not every job we start is ours to finish.

Joseph’s job was to find his brothers and report back to his father. Instead, his assignment was interrupted by circumstances he could never have anticipated. His life took a turn he could not have imagined, and the story God was writing for him was much bigger than the task he had been given that day.

Joseph didn’t know where his next step would lead.
I don’t either.
And neither do you.

That may be one of the hardest things about living by faith. We want to straighten the road. We want to know what’s around the next bend. Instead, we are encouraged to take the next step.

When I read Joseph’s story in the Bible, I saw that the unexpected turns in his life did not keep him from talking to the God who walked with him.

Looking back, I can see God’s faithfulness in places where I couldn’t see it at the time.

That’s the gift of pausing, taking time to remember where we’ve been.
It doesn’t erase the pain.
It doesn’t make every loss make sense.
But it can help us recognize that we were not walking alone.

This morning I find myself grateful for the pause.
Grateful for all the roads that brought me here.
Even the crooked ones.
Even the broken ones.
Even the ones I would never have chosen.

They have taught me that I don’t have to understand every turn to trust the One who walks with me.
I don’t have to know what is around the next bend.
I can keep walking.
I can keep talking to God.
And I can trust that wherever the road leads, He will meet me there.

Do not fear the road
Be encouraged.
You are not alone.

Cathy D.