Last week, I wrote about wandering in Aisle 7, remembering that God meets us in our circling, providing for every need. Forty years of tunics and sandals that never wore out in the desert? That’s something. (My favorite sweater barely survives one season without pilling.)
Well, maybe you’re still wandering in Aisle 7. Or … perhaps you’ve traded the clingy hangers and fluorescent lights of the clothing section for crowded shelves and squeaky grocery carts. You’re not wandering this time, though. You’re stuck. Parked. Staring at the same row of pickles, wondering how you got there.
You’re not pacing around, looking for a way out. You’re just… parked.
Maybe you’ve had too much people time. Everyone around you seems to be using up all their words on you. You can see their lips moving, but you can’t process a thing. It’s like being cornered at a party by someone who just won’t stop talking about their collection of antique doorknobs. You’re nodding politely while your soul quietly screams for an exit. (No offense to anyone with a charming doorknob collection, of course. We’ve just had… too many words.)
Or maybe you’re just exhausted. Tired of feeling like you should have it all figured out by now. Maybe you’ve been praying, hoping, waiting for a breakthrough that still hasn’t come. You want to move, but you’re not sure how, or where, or if it even matters anymore.
Meanwhile, every little irritation in your daily life that shouldn’t bother you, absolutely does. Like the store’s background music meant to enhance the shopping experience. You find yourself muttering, “Please. Someone. Just make it stop.”
Sometimes, the problem isn’t that someone is really doing anything wrong. There’s no conflict, no one to get angry with, no major crisis. Life just feels like … too much.
Here’s what I’ve discovered: When we’re stuck like this, it’s hard to know which direction to turn. The exit signs seem to have disappeared. Our minds race but we’re getting nowhere. We’re not just lost, we’re parked. And the longer we sit there, the more our hope feels like it’s running on empty.
But let’s remember:
God knows where we are.
Do you remember Job in the Bible? Talk about a hard season! He lost his family, his wealth, his health—everything. At one point, Job said he couldn’t find God anywhere:
“If only I knew where to find God … I go east, but he is not there. I go west, but I cannot find him. I do not see him in the north, for he is hidden. I look to the south, but he is concealed.” (Job 23:3, 8–9)
Job couldn’t see God in any part of his life. He was completely, undeniably stuck.
But then he remembers this in verse 10:
“But he [God] knows where I am going.”
Wow.
Even when we can’t see Him, God knows exactly where we are. That trust, that HOPE, might just be our way out of Aisle 7, right?
If you’ve been in this aisle so long you’ve set up a little snack bar or created a cozy corner, let these words from Psalm 139 sink in:
“You [God] have surrounded me on every side, behind me and before me, and You have placed Your hand gently on my shoulder”
I love the picture of God walking alongside us, gently placing His hand on our shoulder. It’s such a tender, compassionate gesture, isn’t it? He’s saying, I see you. I care. I’m here.
So, here’s to brushing the snack crumbs off our laps, folding up the cozy blankets, and finding our way out of Aisle 7.
You don’t have to find the way alone. You’re not stuck forever. Let God lead you. His hand is on your shoulder, and His heart is for you.
The God who parted the sea, made dry paths through the desert, and whispers hope to weary hearts still knows your name. He knows your story. And He’s guiding you forward, even when you can’t see the path.
God knows your way out.
He knows where you are going.
He’s got His hand on your shoulder.
