Detours Are God's Way of Putting Us Where We Need To Be
Michael's Alternative Route: A Story
Michael turned the key in the ignition and let out a sigh. Another day, another commute. The same twenty-minute drive to work that he'd taken for the past three years. He glanced at his watch—7:05 AM. If he took his usual route, he'd arrive at the office by 7:25, giving him time to grab coffee before his 7:30 meeting.
His phone buzzed with a notification: Traffic accident on Highway 5. Expect delays.
"Just perfect," he muttered, pulling out of his driveway. He'd have to take the alternative route through Oakwood neighborhood. He rarely ventured there—it was older, less maintained, and frankly, he'd heard things about that part of town that made him uneasy.
As Michael drove down unfamiliar streets, he slowed at a four-way stop. An elderly man was struggling to cross, carrying grocery bags that looked too heavy for his thin frame. Without thinking, Michael pulled over.
"Can I help you with those?" he called through his open window.
The man looked surprised but nodded gratefully. "Just to the building there," he pointed to a small apartment complex. "Apartment 103."
Michael glanced at his watch again—7:12. This would make him late. But something stopped him from driving away. He parked quickly and grabbed two of the heavier bags.
"I'm Walter," the man said as they walked. "Don't usually see new faces around here."
"Michael. I'm just taking a detour. Traffic on my usual route."
Walter nodded. "Sometimes detours are God's way of putting us where we need to be."
Michael wasn't sure how to respond to that. He attended services with his wife most Sundays at Lakeside Community Church, but faith was something he kept neatly compartmentalized—ninety minutes on Sunday morning, then back to real life. Religious talk outside those walls always made him slightly uncomfortable.
At the apartment, Walter insisted Michael come in for a minute. The space was small but immaculate, filled with photos of what looked like generations of family. On a side table sat a well-worn Bible.
"You live alone?" Michael asked.
"Since Martha passed last year. Fifty-three years together." Walter gestured to a photo of a smiling woman. "Kids visit when they can, but they're spread across the country now."
Michael noticed a grocery list on the counter with only basic items. "Do you get to the store often?"
"Once a week. It's getting harder, but I manage."
Michael checked his watch again—7:22. His meeting was definitely starting without him.
"I drive past here most mornings," he heard himself saying. "I could pick things up for you sometimes. Or give you a ride."
The words surprised him as much as they seemed to surprise Walter.
"That's mighty kind. Most folks just drive through this neighborhood. They don't stop to see the people here."
Michael nodded, understanding something he hadn't before. He'd lived three miles from this neighborhood for years but had never set foot in it until today's detour.
"I'd better get going, but I'll stop by next week," Michael said, meaning it. "Here's my number. Call if you need anything before then."
On his drive to work, now seriously late, Michael thought about what Walter had said about detours being God's plan. He'd always been too busy, too scheduled, too... everything to notice the people around him. Even at church, where he occasionally attended with his wife, he rushed in and out without really connecting.
When he finally reached his office at 7:45, his colleague James looked surprised.
"The Michael Kramer is late? What happened, end of the world?" he joked.
"Took an alternative route," Michael said with a small smile. "Met someone interesting."
"Worth being late for?"
Michael thought about Walter, alone in his apartment in a neighborhood full of people that others just drove past without seeing.
"Definitely."
Over the next few weeks, Michael made it a point to take the "alternative route" through Oakwood at least twice a week. He learned that Walter had been a deacon at Oakwood Community Church for forty years. The following Sunday, rather than attending their usual service, Michael and his wife Sarah visited Oakwood Church.
It was smaller than their usual church, and initially, they felt out of place among the predominantly elderly congregation. But the warmth with which they were greeted made the discomfort fade quickly.
"You're Walter's friend!" Pastor Robert exclaimed when Michael introduced himself. "He told us about you. Said God sent him an angel with a nice car."
Michael laughed, embarrassed but touched.
After the service, instead of rushing out as they usually did, Michael and Sarah stayed for coffee hour. They met Darlene, who ran the church's food pantry, and Marcus, a college student who helped elderly members with home repairs.
"We're always short on volunteers," Darlene mentioned. "Especially people who can drive. Some of our members can't get to medical appointments."
Michael exchanged a glance with Sarah. They both had flexible work schedules. They could help.
Six months later, Michael's daily routine looked completely different. He still took the highway sometimes, but more often than not, he chose the route through Oakwood—no longer an alternative, but his preferred way. He knew the names of the crossing guards, the owner of the corner store, the kids waiting at the bus stop.
On Wednesdays, he drove Walter and two other church members to their doctor appointments. On Sundays, the Kramers attended Oakwood Church, where Sarah now helped with the children's ministry. Their evenings often included dinner with people they once would have driven past without seeing.
One evening, as Michael and Sarah hosted Walter and several other neighbors for dinner, Walter raised his glass in a toast.
"To detours," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "And to proximity."
Michael smiled, understanding the deeper meaning. The traffic accident that had forced him to take an alternative route had changed everything. By simply coming closer—into proximity—with people he'd kept at a distance, his life had been transformed.
Their dining room, once reserved for occasional dinner parties with colleagues, was now regularly filled with an unlikely assortment of people from Oakwood—elderly church members, young families struggling to make ends meet, teenagers who helped with Walter's groceries, and even Pastor Robert and his wife.
As Michael looked around the table, he realized that proximity had changed him. He no longer saw "the elderly" or "that neighborhood"—he saw Walter, Darlene, Marcus, and Robert. Individual people with stories, created in God's image. The issues he heard about on the news had faces now. The categories and stereotypes had been replaced by relationships.
"You know," Pastor Robert said, refilling Walter's water glass, "Jesus was all about proximity. He could have stayed in heaven, distant and removed. But he chose to come close, to eat with tax collectors and sinners, to touch the untouchables."
Michael nodded, thinking of his own journey. "I used to think faith was about believing the right things. Now I think it's also about being in the right places—close to God and close to people."
Sarah squeezed his hand under the table. "Even when those places take us on roads we never planned to travel."
Later that night, after everyone had gone home and the dishes were done, Michael stood at their living room window, looking out at the quiet street. His phone buzzed with an email from work—another meeting, another deadline. Important, yes, but somehow less urgent than it would have seemed a year ago.
He thought about how a simple traffic detour had set him on a completely different path. The alternative route had become his preferred way, not because it was easier or faster, but because it had brought him into proximity with people who had changed him.
Tomorrow, he would drive the same way, stop to help Mrs. Chen bring in her mail, wave to the kids at the bus stop, and probably give Walter a ride to his physical therapy appointment. Small things, ordinary proximities, that were slowly changing everything.
Links for you:
- Devo by Stevo (a five day devotional based on this message)
- Study Guide (for personal or small group use, based on this message)
- Full transcript of this message
Steven E Fairbanks
Steven E Fairbanks
Steven E Fairbanks
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