God is my Garmin

I've heard the phrase "God is my co-pilot." I know it is the name of a book but I've never read it. I've also heard that God ought to be the pilot, not the co-pilot, of our lives. However, since I don't have a clear idea of what a pilot does as compared to a co-pilot, the whole comparison never struck a chord with me. Not to mention, just the idea of an empty seat guiding an airplane is unnerving.

Which I think is part of the point -- that I am not in charge, not in complete utter absolute control of my life and where and how it goes -- but an empty seat is an empty seat whether there's an invisible being there or not.

However, I have recently stumbled upon the technological comparison for our times (plus it is alliterative, which just gives it extra pizazz): God is my Garmin.

The Garmin is an electronic navigation device. It sticks up on the windshield or the dashboard of a car, and it shows and tells the driver how to get from point A to point B, or A, B, C, and D if that's how many stops one needs to make. The screen shows a map of the streets with a little car icon traveling along a highlighted route while a voice will periodically note turns needed. The really nice part about this device is that it will "re-calculate" the route if a turn is missed. This is really useful when road construction can close highway exits and detour signs are scant.

Put in a destination, and follow the directions. Simple! I've learned some nice shortcuts through neighborhoods, as well as some ludicrous ones. Still, on occasion I come out the other side and find that the Garmin just guided me around a major traffic snarl. (Also one of its features.) However, it does not seem to avoid construction projects or general road work, in which case I veer off the Garmin's mapped out route, making it recalculate the route. Sometimes it will plead with me, "Turn right at [name of street] ... Re-calculating... Turn right at [next name of street]... Make a U-turn when able..." Sometimes it will give up and say, "Proceed to highlighted route" without telling me how to get there.

So how does God fit in with this? It takes some trust to follow the computer. It will get me there, though perhaps not by the way I'd immediately think of taking. I do have to deal with the details, like steering the car, watching the other cars on the road, and being alert to road conditions and temporary road changes not yet in its memory. Yet when I get to my destination, I can look at the trip log, which leaves little tire marks on the computer map, and I understand the turns that did not necessarily make sense at the time. So too with God in my life. So too with God.