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“For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” Luke 19:10

Hitchhikers fascinate me.

I’ve never done it myself, nor have I ever picked one up. (Relax, Mom.) And I know everyone in the world has a story. Everyone in the world has some kind of pain they’re trying to hide or function in spite of. But these folks, like homeless people, don’t have the luxury of bluffing. Something went really terribly wrong in their lives, and now everyone knows it.

Some have stuff with them. Maybe a backpack or a small duffel bag. Some just have the clothes on their back and a thumb in the air. Some know where they need to go and communicate it via a small sign. Others know where they need to go, but can’t really say. Still others don’t know where they’re going and probably don’t care. They just know that here isn’t it. Here isn’t working.

Here’s something else I’ve noticed: Some are walking and some aren’t. Some have been pretty beat up by life, but they’ve still got a little life left.  So they’ve gathered their stuff and are moving, albeit slowly, toward the goal. Occasionally they’ll turn and face the oncoming traffic and stick their thumb out while walking backward for a bit. But when no deliverance comes, they turn themselves back toward the destination and keep walking.

But then there are the ones who aren’t moving. They’ve got nothing left. They’re at the mercy of whoever shows them mercy. No more energy, no more will, nothing to contribute toward where they need to be and absolutely no means to get there.

To be honest, I always gave the walking ones a little more credit. I mean, at least they’re TRYING. They’re MOVING. They’re not totally waiting for a handout or a pick up. They’re doing what they can and hoping that someone else can pick up the slack. If not, they’ll probably be okay.

And these judgments are very easy to make from my perfectly-running, air-conditioned vehicle. In moments like that, God lovingly allows me to come face-to-face with my inner Pharisee. And she’s ugly.

I passed a hitchhiker today. He was thin with dark weathered skin. He had a scraggly beard, hair wet from the recent rain, and a small backpack. He wasn’t moving. And something clicked.

He’s me. He’s all of us.

If you’re reading this, most likely you’ve never been that desperate. And the last thing I want to do is take the genuine misery and suffering of a real-life child of God and make it a trite analogy. At the same time, all we know is all we know. We have all experienced varying levels of pain. And most of us have been at a place where we were powerless to help ourselves and not sure how we were going to make it, whether it be physically, emotionally, financially or spiritually.

We all need help. We all need healing. And we all need salvation.

So which kind of hitchhiker are you? Are you pushing forward with your stuff on your back, doing whatever you can to close the gap between you and what you need? Or are you bottomed out, used up and stuck, powerless to make any progress alone?

Regardless of where you are on that spectrum, get your thumb in the air and look expectantly toward oncoming traffic. Because Jesus will never leave you in the dust. He died for all of us hitchhikers. And once He’s picked you up, your eternity is spoken for and your life here on earth is redeemed.

And this is where those who are still walking are at a disadvantage. At least that’s how it was for me at my lowest point. As long as I still had something, I was gonna keep moving. Get to the other side of my pain as soon as humanly possible, even if it was at a snail’s pace. But I was so distracted by my burden that I forgot to stick out my thumb. And God allowed me to get all the way to the end of myself before He let me realize that I was never actually going to get there on my own. And it wasn’t until I had nothing left did I lift my hand and hold out the universal sign for help.

God loves the journey. Most of us are about getting fixed, getting results, getting answers, and getting to the other side. But God is all about the process. He reminds me again and again and again, He doesn’t fix; He GROWS. So wherever you are on your way, regardless of your own resources or lack thereof, get your thumb in the air. Surrender. You may have a lot, a little, or nothing at all. You may know where you need to go and just need a ride there. Or you may have no idea where you’re going; you just know that you can’t stay here.

Your deliverance is as close as your thumb. And Jesus isn’t in a hurry. He’s easing along the slow lane, looking for you.

My King, thank You for picking me up on Your way to bringing Your kingdom to the world. Your infinite power and infinite love still confuse, bewilder and amaze me. My Jesus, take my journey and make it Yours. Better still, I surrender my life to the life You have for me. And we both know You’re a far better driver than I am. My driving got me ended up on the side of the road. I am now a joyfully humbled passenger. Never let me forget where I was when You saved me. And give me Your eyes to see others who need a lift.

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