It was shiny, red, and new. Only two doors. Low to the ground.
It was Shawn’s Celica. I had a Corolla, and he bought a new Celica in the midst of the dangerous Fast & Furious craze that overtook the nation. After seeing that movie, every guy in some sort of running car thought he was a racer. I, myself, put a spoiler and chrome rims on my little Corolla and installed a sound system. But my good friend Shawn didn’t have to upgrade his car.
When he picked me up in it, we imaginatively transformed into Paul Walker and Vin Diesel.
Sitting outside at the Market Place during a bored summer night in Bakersfield, our inner youth yearned for adventure. A girl named Jayme was trying to win over our attention, but we weren’t that interested. As she smacked her chewing gum in mid sentence, Shawn interrupted: “Hey, we should go out of town. We should try to get lost.”
It was summer, and my tutoring job on my college campus had ended a few weeks after my classes. “I’m down,” I replied.
The next moment Shawn and I were speeding up the highway driving through rural farm towns in the late night with Jayme riding in the small back seat.
We eventually came to a little town and grabbed some youthful fuel—Taco Bell. We ate it in the parking lot because the restaurant was already closed. As Shawn swallowed down the last of his chalupa, he confessed, “So I’m not sure if we can get lost. It’s harder than I thought.”
I suggested, “Let’s turn off on one of these side roads. We’ll have a better chance then.”
Jayme asked, “So why are we trying to get lost again?”
Shawn replied, “Do you ever get tired of being in only places that you know? How cool would it be to be in some place where you didn’t know where you were?”
We tossed our trash and continued on with our half-full sodas. Old telephone poles flashed beside us as we moved down desolate roads of bumpy asphalt as we were deep in our conversations about life, literature, movies, and video games.
Then it happened.
Shawn yelled out, “Do you know where we are?”
I examined my surroundings and didn’t. I asked, “Wait, are we?”
Shawn pulled over, and yelled, “We’re lost! I don’t know where we are.”
We pulled out on the road again, and within only a few minutes, we saw a street sign that informed us we were only a few miles from the highway.
We were not lost; we were wanderers.
When I graduated college with a BA in psychology and a BA in English, I bought my own sporty car after signing my first teaching contract. It was a convertible. I wanted a custom license plate cover but couldn’t think of anything that would appropriately represent me. Then I read a quote from J. R. R. Tolkien: “Not all those who wander are lost.”
Being a Christian and a young, single adult in a valley of college classes and new teaching career would lead to a season of wanderlust.
Seeking out how adult life works while taking risks and even making mistakes in years of unyielding change identified me as a wanderer.
But I was never lost.
That’s how it is knowing Jesus. The road may be dark and desolate. We may be running on the junk food of life. There may be a gum-smacker in the backseat trying to steal your attention.
And for a moment, you may very well believe that you are lost.
Then you see the sign—you remember God’s Word.
You are not lost.
You’re just a wander in a land that’s not your home.
And you’re trying your best to figure it all out.
Hang in there, mighty wanderer. Eventually, we’ll all be home together.
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