On the Wrong Track.

Ever have one of those moments that feels like a metaphor for life?

I got to the train station early, heading north for a few days to check out Greg’s world. The board said Track 1. The loudspeaker said Track 1.

So there we all are, waiting on Track 1.

A lady over on Track 2 starts yelling, “You need to be over here! The train doesn’t run on that track on Saturdays! You need to trust me or you’ll miss the train! Please listen!”

She’s loud, a little crazy-looking, and yet I wonder, what if…?

The elevator’s broken, we’re three flights up. We all look at each other, contemplating the words of the crazy lady. We choose Amtrak.

You know where this is headed.

It’s dark out, and we squint as the train headlights appear in the distance. Then we’re wide-eyed as we realize the train is, in fact, on Track 2.

Cue chaos: three flights up, across, three back down. The conductor’s shouting, “Hurry up…come on!”

One guy’s laughing, another’s silently focused on his mission of reaching his destination without toppling down the steps, one girl’s sprinting like she’s in the Olympics, confident in her youth…

And me? I’m silently swearing the whole way up the steps and, on the way down, yelling back at the conductor, only to instantly regret it, realizing the power he held over my life.

As I place my ticket in its proper slot, claiming my seat, I exhale.

In that small moment, I recognized that somewhere between the panic and the platform, fear got loud, and I let it lead. I’m always having to work on that.

Faith isn’t always about standing calmly on the right track.

Perhaps it’s only when we find ourselves on the wrong track that we can see how God, the true Conductor, meets us there - sending people to run beside us, waiting while we scramble, and still getting us where we’re meant to go.