“When You Don’t Know Where You’re Going” - Fr. Pete's Sermon for June 7th, the Second Sunday after Pentecost

I remember years ago needing to drive to a government office in downtown Atlanta, Georgia. I had an appointment I absolutely could not miss. This was long before smartphones and live GPS directions, so I had printed directions off the internet—you remember those? Well, I rarely ever had to go downtown. And I doubt you have ever driven there! So let me explain something.

Downtown Atlanta is an enigma. The streets seem to have been designed by a committee of caffeinated squirrels. Actually I think they were based on the meanderings of cows way back in the day.

There are plenty of one-way streets and some suddenly become different one-way streets. Roads curve for no obvious reason (those cow paths!). The famous Peachtree Street splits into several other Peachtree streets. Most downtown drivers knew what they were doing and where they were going, so they were aggressive and impatient with the likes of me.

And I remember gripping the steering wheel thinking: “I have absolutely no idea where I’m going.” I knew the destination in theory. I had an address. But I couldn’t see how to get there. Every turn felt uncertain. Every block felt like I might already be lost.

And honestly, I think that feeling is more familiar to some of us than we like to admit. Not just on highways. In life.

There’s a special kind of anxiety that comes from not knowing what comes next. Not the dramatic kind necessarily, though the world certainly gives us enough of that these days, but the quieter kind. The kind that wakes you up at 3 a.m. The kind that whispers: What now? Where is this going? How do I move forward from here?

And perhaps that is why the story of Abraham begins where it does.

“Now the Lord said to Abram, ‘Go from your country and your kindred and your father’s house to the land that I will show you.’”

Notice what God does not say. God does not provide a map. God does not provide a timeline. God does not say, “Here is the complete five-year strategic plan for your future.” Just: “Go.”

And we are told, astonishingly: “So Abram went.” That is the beginning of faith. Not certainty. Not clarity. Not confidence. Just… going, when God says “go.”

This morning we begin a summer journey together here at St. Timothy’s that we’re calling: The Summer Sermon Road Trip: Following God in Real Life. And over these summer months, in the season of Ordinary Time, the Sundays after Pentecost, we’re going to travel through some of the great stories of the book of Genesis.

In June, we journey with Abraham and Sarah as they learn what it means to trust God when life is uncertain.

In July, we’ll travel with Jacob through stories of struggle, change, wrestling, and discovery.

And in August, we’ll follow Joseph through betrayal, reconciliation, and the long mysterious work of grace over time.

Along the way, we’ll hear from Jesus and Paul and the other voices of Scripture reminding us that these stories are not just ancient history. They are our stories too. Because every one of us knows what it means to travel without having the whole map.

Now, we often imagine Abraham as a spiritual giant—steady, fearless, absolutely certain all the time. But if you read Genesis carefully, that is not really what you find. What you find instead is a human being responding to a call he does not fully understand. And honestly, that makes him much more relatable.

Paul reflects on Abraham in this morning’s reading from Romans and says Abraham’s faith was “reckoned to him as righteousness.”

​Not because Abraham’s faith was flawless. Not because Abraham always understood everything. But because he trusted enough to take the next step.

Faith, in other words, is not about having all the answers. It is about relationship. It is about movement. It is about trusting God enough to keep going when the road ahead is not entirely clear.

And that is where this story meets us. Because many of us are standing exactly where Abraham stood.
Some are facing health concerns.
Some are carrying uncertainty about family or work or the future.
Some are grieving losses they never expected.
Some are trying to figure out what faith even looks like in a world that feels so divided, angry, and unstable.

We are living in a moment globally where uncertainty seems woven into daily life. Wars continue. Political bitterness deepens. Ethics are shattered. Truth itself often feels negotiable. And as a result we are all exhausted.

And in times like these, the temptation is to wait until everything becomes clear before moving forward. But Scripture suggests something different. Sometimes clarity comes after the step of trust. Sometimes the road only reveals itself as we walk it.

In the Gospel lesson this morning, Jesus approaches a tax collector named Matthew and says simply: “Follow me.” No explanation. No map. No carefully outlined expectations. Just: “Follow me.” And Matthew gets up and goes!

There is a pattern here. God calls. People move.
Understanding comes later… if at all.

Now let’s be honest: that is uncomfortable. Most of us would prefer certainty first. We would like God to function more like Google Maps: “In 500 feet, turn left…” “Your destination is ahead…” “Recalculating…”

But God rarely seems to operate that way. Instead, God tends to offer enough light for the next step. No more. No less. And perhaps that is because faith is not ultimately about mastering the future. It is about learning to trust the One who walks with us into it.

There’s a small detail in this Genesis story that I love. Everywhere Abraham goes, he builds altars. He pauses and marks the place. He remembers. He acknowledges God’s presence along the way.

Not just at the destination. Not after everything is resolved. But in the middle of the journey.

And perhaps that is one of the quiet invitations of the spiritual life. To notice where God is meeting us right now. Not someday when life finally becomes manageable. Not after all the uncertainty disappears. But here. In the ordinary days of this ordinary time. In the confusing seasons. In the unfinished parts of our lives.

The older I get, the more I realize that some of the most meaningful moments of life came from seasons when I honestly had no idea what I was doing. Moments when the future felt uncertain. When I could not see very far ahead. Moments when all I really had was the next faithful step.

And yet somehow, looking back, I can see that God was present all along. Not always leading where I expected. Not always taking the shortest route either. But leading me. Here!

So perhaps the invitation this morning is a simple one. Where is God saying “Go” in your life right now?
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Maybe it’s a conversation you have been avoiding.
Maybe it’s a step toward healing you’ve been putting off.
Maybe it’s letting go of something familiar but harmful.
Maybe it is simply trusting that your story is not finished yet.

And perhaps the question is not: “Do I fully understand?”

But: “Can I take the next step?”

Because this is the promise that serves as the roadway underneath the whole
journey ahead of us this summer:

Faith is not certainty. It is learning to trust God over time.
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God calls. And, even before we understand, we go.

Amen.