The recent tragic events in Baton Rouge, Dallas and many places all over the world have left me thinking about what our responses as Christians, as individuals and as humans should be. While reflecting on these events, a family story plays in my mind again and again.
When I was fourteen years old, before the advent of GPS devices and reliable mobile phones, my grandfather and I traveled to his home town of Kincaid, West Virginia. On our way, we were stopped in a traffic jam on the interstate in Eastern Tennessee. After two hours of sitting, we decided to double back to the last exit and take a state highway in an effort to circumvent the traffic jam. We drove down the two-lane highway for about an hour before we saw anything that resembled civilization, at which point we entered a small town tucked away in the bottom of a beautiful Appalachian valley. To say we were lost would be an understatement; we did not have a clue as to where we were.
However, we were certain that our route had brought us to some place north of the interstate parking lot we had left an hour earlier. As we drove through this sleepy little town, we saw a man walking down the sidewalk and we decided to stop and ask for directions. “Excuse me sir, could you tell me how to get to the interstate?” With one of the deepest and strongest East Tennessee accents I have ever heard, he replied,
“Oh yeah. To get to the interstate you want go right up here and make the next left. You will follow that road up the mountain, down into the next valley and up the next mountain. On the top of that mountain, there is a little town. Once you get there, you will want to stop and ask somebody how to get to the interstate.”
We told the gentleman thank you, rolled up the car window, laughed for a moment, and decided it would be best if we went back to where we had gotten off of the interstate—at least we would know where we were.
Other than praying for the cities of Baton Rouge, Dallas and our world and being committed to engaging others in a way that is founded in the Love of Christ and reflects the grace and beauty of God’s Kingdom into the world, I am not certain exactly what our response should be to these events. However, like that summer day in the mountains of East Tennessee, in order for us to know where we are, we must admit we are lost and go back the way we came. Only then can we begin to move in the direction God is calling us.
In what ways are you lost?
In what ways can you go back, in an effort to discover where you are?
In what direction are you called?
The Rev. Ashley Freeman (MDiv ’15) serves as Curate and School Chaplain at Trinity Episcopal Church and School in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. He lives in Baton Rouge with his wife, Annie, and their three children.