A Devotion for the Edge of the Map

Growing up as the daughter of a city planner, I’m pretty sure I knew how to read maps before I could read books. I have vivid memories of sitting in the front seat of my dad’s parked car, maps spread out over the dash, while he tinkered with the engine and changed the oil. When I got my driver’s license, my dad presented me with maps of our city, surrounding areas, and the state of Florida, which I was expected to keep easily accessible at all times.

Despite this early training, my own reliance on Google Maps is slowly but surely eroding my ability and desire to read a real map, let alone commit to memory street names and helpful landmarks. I’ve become far to quick to plug an address into my GPS and follow, almost blindly to my destination.

Like me, you’ve probably experienced the stomach-sinking feeling of when your maps app or GPS isn’t working. Suddenly, I become completely overwhelmed and disoriented, road signs and street names blurring like Sanskrit in front of my eyes.

What do we do when we can’t read the map? Or when the map disappears altogether?

No one knew this feeling more than the Israelites. In the book of Exodus, we read the story of how God’s people had endured years of bondage under the Egyptians. They were oppressed, abused, mistreated people. They needed rescue, they needed a way of escape. They desperately needed a map.

The people of Israel spent 40 years in the desert. 40 years of wandering. 40 years of journeying towards the promised land that God had given them. They had plenty of time to doubt, plenty of time to wonder what the next step was, where or how God was leading them.

In Exodus 13 we read: “By day the Lord went ahead of them in a pillar of cloud to guide them on their way and by night in a pillar of fire to given them light…”

Though it may have certainly felt like it, God never left his people alone in their journey. Though often cloaked or hidden, God’s presence was always there, a reminder to them that they hadn’t been left on their own in the wilderness. Not a map or a clear marked path, but as a pillar of cloud in the day and fire by night, God guided them, giving them shade from the fierceness of the desert sun, and a light in the darkest of nights.

One year into a disaster recovery effort can feel a bit like the map has disappeared on us. You might find yourself asking for clarity, for direction, for a map to mark your way in the wilderness.

As we continue this work in relatively unknown territory, I encourage you to raise your heads to seek out the pillars of clouds and fire, the sparks of light and wonder that remind us that our God still indeed goes ahead of us, marks our paths, and guides our steps.
We have not been left alone in this wilderness. The God that began this journey of recovery with us still dwells with us. Putting one foot ahead of the other during this time may take more faith, more tenacity, more creativity than when we first began. But the journey continues, grace abounds, and God provides, even when the map disappears.

On the journey with you,

Chaplain Amy