I get frustrated when my GPS keeps recalculating. There's something deeply unsettling about that automated voice constantly announcing "recalculating" just when I thought I knew where I was going. It can be applied to life. I used to think that by this stage of life, I'd have a clear route mapped out, but instead, I find myself on more detours than ever before.

This reminds me of an ancient story about a merchant who prided himself on always knowing the way.

This merchant had traveled the same trade route for twenty years. He knew every rock, every tree, every bend in the path.

One morning, he set out with a caravan of younger merchants who wanted to learn from his navigation expertise. But overnight, a tremendous storm passed through the region. When they reached what should have been a familiar valley, the merchant stopped in confusion. The storm had altered the landscape. The landmarks had shifted or disappeared entirely.

The merchant tried to maintain his composure, choosing path after path, each time declaring, "This is the way." But each chosen route led to dead ends or circled back to where they started. By afternoon, the younger merchants realized what the veteran refused to admit: they were completely lost.

As the sun began to set, panic crept into the merchant's voice. His reputation, his identity, his very sense of self was tied to knowing the way.

Finally, a young girl from a nearby village appeared on a ridge above them. "Are you lost?" she called down.

The merchant's pride flared. "We're not lost. We're just recalculating our route."

The girl laughed gently. "The storm changed everything. Your old paths are gone. But if you stop trying and follow me, I can lead you to where you need to be."

The younger merchants immediately began following the girl, but the veteran merchant hesitated. To follow meant admitting he was lost. To follow meant his decades of experience couldn't save him. To follow meant trusting someone else's knowledge over his own.

With trembling steps, he finally followed. The girl led them through passages he'd never seen, using stars he'd never noticed, to a village he didn't know existed—where warm food and shelter awaited all storm-displaced travelers.

"How did you know we were lost?" the merchant asked the girl.

She smiled. "After every storm, my grandma sends me to search. She says the ones who need finding most are those who don't know they're lost. You weren't lost because you didn't know the old way—you were lost because the old way no longer existed. Being found isn't failure. It's wisdom."

This story captures a deep truth about our current moment. We're not just dealing with occasional recalculations—we're living in a permanent storm season where the landscape constantly shifts beneath our feet.

For example, AI has changed everything. Career paths that existed five years ago have vanished and more will vanish soon. The very assumptions we built our lives upon keep requiring updates. We're exhausted not from the journey, but from the constant recalculating.

But here's the profound comfort hidden in today's scripture: while we're frantically recalculating, trying to find our way, God has already sent out a search party. We're actively being sought by One who knows exactly where we are and exactly how to bring us home. Let’s see how Jesus reveals to us this truth.

The scripture lesson for today is from the Gospel of Luke 15:1-10.