Detour

Mandy and I were walking one morning through a neighborhood in Chiang Mai, Thailand several years ago. Very non-tourist area, which meant we were the object of many stares from the locals. Curious stares. Smiling stares. Who-the-hell-are-you stares.

An hour later we realized we were lost. Here we were practically illiterate and didn’t speak Thai. This area was void of public transportation. In fact, I don’t even remember seeing vehicles. Just livestock and bicycles.

Eventually a tuk-tuk from around the corner came to a halt right next to us. (A tuk-tuk is like a motorized tricycle with a bench and canopy over the back two wheels). The driver was adamant for us to get in his tuk-tuk. He spoke no English. Where exactly did he think he was going to take us?

A man standing nearby noticed our failed attempts at charades. He spoke English and offered to translate for us. “Where do you want to go?” he said.

“The large city gate near the moat in the city,” we said. We felt like this was the Thai equivalent of saying, “Take me to the statue of liberty, please.” We were on our way. There in the distance I soon spotted the gate and the moat. The planets aligned. Angels were singing. All was well in the universe…..except for one thing. The driver didn’t stop.

We were in the city now. Traffic in Asia is chaos. Kind of like watching cartoons. Multiple near death experiences among the numerous cars, buses, bikes, livestock, pedestrians, and tuk-tuks. Is that a red light I see? Silly traffic laws. Red lights, stop signs, yellow lines – those are just for the people who don’t know how to drive. And wait. Where are the seatbelts?! Seatbelts are for the weak.

I tried to tell the driver to turn around. Surely he can translate the desperation on my face. He turned around to look at me, rolled his head back in laughter, and then returned to his driving. Dude. Really? Is my desperation that comical? Do you see me laughing?!

Enter center stage: the voices. “You should have stayed home.” “Who exactly do you think you are?” “You’re so naïve.” My critics began to haunt me. Unfortunately these were people I greatly admired, people whose approval I desperately craved. In their eyes when I went overseas I detoured from everything rational and responsible. I was a disappointment. And now I felt I was in a situation that would give them the right to say, “I told you so.”

The driver eventually drove into a large complex of some sort. It was a Buddhist monastery, which looked like a community college for monks. Dorms lined the outer rim. Large ornate temples and gardens filled the complex. And an ancient pyramid stone structure rested in the center. This was a place that assaulted the senses.

After stopping in front of the first main temple, the driver motioned for us to get out. After we paid him, he drove off, and there we stood. I did not know what to do. Then I heard another inner voice say, “This is where you must pray.” As I began to walk around and take in all the sights, I talked to God within myself. Here God opened me up to realize that he has a great longing for people to know him. All people. And he is not an indifferent bystander. I didn’t fully understand how, but I knew he was pursuing relationship with people. I could feel God coming out of me even as I waved to the 12-year-old monks giggling at the foreigners who just got dropped off. God wasn’t sitting back waiting for people to find him. I saw him as an initiator. I have a hunch that God is often searching for us but sometimes we don’t really want to be found or fully known.

As I continued to make my way around the temple, I heard someone call my name from across the courtyard. I looked around and saw several of my friends from America. We had all split up early that morning to explore and pray in various parts of the city.

“Ann! How did you know where we were?” they asked with great surprise.
“I didn’t,” I answered with even greater surprise.
“Then how did you get here?”
“I don’t know.” Needless to say I wasn’t lost anymore.

This incident eventually became somewhat of a metaphor for my own spiritual journey, though I could not have realized it at the time. What I thought was a detour was actually the better path. God often invites us to deviate if only we’d have the courage to trust him. Jesus has this whole rhythm of life that is syncopated by comparison to mainstream culture (and sometimes even church). He stresses the off-beat and invites us to linger there with him. This is the realm where listening and doing intersect. Knowing comes through doing. Obedience and trust is the vehicle for profound revelation from our Maker.

I don’t know that I’ve ever received approval from my critics. I stopped caring the day I realized that I was striving to prove myself to people that I didn’t even want to be like. Ironically, the one person I want to be like I don’t have to prove myself to. And that is bliss.