Searching for God: Oh!

Search for the Lord and his strength; continually seek his face. Psalm 105

My wife and I took a run up to Bellingham the other day. We didn’t have anything in particular we needed to find or get. We just wanted to get out of the house, and it was a nice enough day so that we could enjoy the scenic trip. We did have one unfamiliar destination in mind, and since we are likewise unfamiliar with the City of Subdued Excitement, I punched the destination into my phone’s GPS to ensure we’d get there.

Weather in western Washington is mild this time of year, so the Orange Cone season has already begun. They sprang up simultaneously with the local daffodils and will be with us until they blend in with the fallen leaves of autumn. Fortunately we only had a small stretch of freeway to contend with where two northbound lanes smooshed into one. 

Most people did a nice job of merging. I gave a “late-to-merge” driver space in which to pull in, but she refused the grace of the space I’d offered, choosing, instead, to exercise some form of NASCAR wig-wag (the ziggy, zaggy thing racers do to keep their tires hot when driving under Caution).

I just did an eye-roll and kept my focus on the road ahead. There are some people and situations for which Thoughts and Prayers are the only proper response for a person in my profession (keeping fingers tightly curled around the steering wheel).

The rest of our trip was uneventful. We missed the driveway to the store to which we’d been aiming, but that’s only because I was paying more attention to my GPS guide, and less to the actual world through which I was traveling. Hey, it happens. I have no doubt that I am more than six degrees separated from both Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett combined. Heck, I can even get lost in a good book!

A few weeks ago Barb and I flew back to Indiana for a family visit. I was sure glad to have GPS whenever we drove around the area as my sense of direction was always 180 degrees off. I thought north was south and east was west. Part of the problem was the lack of hills or mountains with which to help orient this visitor. 

We were in Amish country, so not only did I not know in what direction my nose was ever facing, I couldn’t always tell what century I was in, either, as I drove cautiously around all the horse-and-buggies amongst which we shared the roads.

It never bothers me to not know where I am or where I’m going. It is useful having a gadget to help me find my way around, but it was more helpful having our hosts do most of the driving. They knew where they were; they knew the roads and the routes and the best way to get places. When faced with the south end of northbound horses, they knew what rules to apply and how to safely avoid spooking the buggy-pullers.

The GPS gave me SOME comfort in my travels, but my hosts enabled me to relax; I knew I was safe and secure and in good hands. With them, I was able to focus less on the road and more on the world. Over the course of two weeks, I was able to find my bearings and get from one place to another whenever I struck out on my own, but I was most comfortable when I was in the hands of trusted friends. 

The psalmist invites us to “search for the Lord and his strength; continually seek his face.” 

We won’t find the face of God in the “great by-and-by in the sky way up high.” No, our task is to find the face of God in the people around us. The psalmist isn’t inviting us to go on a quest as much as he (or she) is inviting us to see our Lord in the faces of those with whom we share the road in our travels (yes, including zig-zaggers and sundry horse-drawn souls).

Perhaps we are called to look for AND to be the face of God wherever we are, for God is always with us here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

Angels Also Come With Baggage

Show me your ways, O Lord, and teach me your paths. Psalm 25

I don’t have a fear of flying, but I do have airport-a-phobia. I only fly commercially once every three to five years, so every time I fly, I find the systems and processes to be completely altered. I was pleased to discover how well organized Sea-Tac had become since our last visit there. People weren’t queued up in front of airline counters; we got to go directly to a kiosk to grab our boarding passes and baggage tags. Of course, that’s when things went south. Artificial Intelligence doesn’t mix well with what passes for organic intelligence (if one dares call what I exercise “intelligence”).

Since I hadn’t booked our luggage ahead of time, I had to purchase tags at the kiosk. It printed my receipts and two baggage tags. Sadly, I had only glanced at my receipts and they registered in my brain as boarding passes. They looked like boarding passes, but in clear fine print they said (I paraphrase): “Nope, not a boarding pass.” Oops.

We went to the self-service baggage station (where we found our first queue), and as we stood there creeping along at about six inches per minute, my better half mentioned our boarding passes weren’t boarding passes. I stood there in complete silence as I read the receipt top to bottom and confirmed that she was, as usual, correct. Apparently I had missed a step at the kiosk (which no doubt burbled electronic chuckles when we left). 

I was at a loss for what to do (having committed myself to playing the old, befuddled duffer at the airport in order to garner sympathy from roaming gnomes). A woman in line behind us offered to take one of us to a kiosk to get our passes, so the smarter one went with her while I shuffled our bags forward, as well as the unofficially unattended bag of our Samaritan helper. It didn’t take them long to procure our boarding passes; finally, all was right with the universe.

I am often amazed by the kindness of strangers. We did not ask one another what our beliefs were. We were strangers, traveling in a strange land (which is what airports are to infrequent flyers). The kiosk was efficient in taking money for our baggage claims, but it failed to take us back to the electronic path I needed for obtaining boarding passes. I have no doubt it was programmed to deal with idiots, but it had never met the likes of me!

But a woman, traveling alone and overhearing a conversation between traveling neophytes stepped up to the challenge. She not only took time out to help my wife collect the documents we needed to move forward, she trusted a complete stranger to watch over her own trunk and keep it safe. 

And here’s the kicker: As I struggled to move our two bags-to-be-checked forward, along with two awkward carry-ons, the couple behind me helped push the stranger’s suitcase forward as well.

While we often hear reports of disorderly travelers causing chaos in the skies, or lines stretching for blocks, the truth is that most travelers subconsciously realize they are part of a community, moving about to unite with friends or family, enjoying vacations, attending to crises or sundry business matters. We may feel, at times, like cattle snaking our way through various queues, but those have made our safety, security, and processing, for the most part, much faster and smoother.

Yes, there are dipsticks we meet along the way, so I make sure I keep my oil of kindness topped off before doing anything. There are dipsticks, to be sure, but they are outnumbered by far by an army of angels who see the face of God in those with whom they travel. Those angels have always been a blessing – an incarnation of God that is every bit as real as what we see in Jesus of Nazareth. That’s not surprising since each person is created in God’s image!

I am thankful for all the angels who have ministered to me over the years around the world and here, in this our valley. It seems we are united by the baggage we carry.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)