I fell in love with my sat nav – and it taught me something about following Jesus

I used to be in love with a lady that I have never met. 

Fear not. I haven’t embarked on a furtive online relationship with a distant, beautiful woman who is likely a bearded trucker working an internet romance scam. No, my affection was focused on the kindly voice inside my Maps navigational app.

We’ve travelled a few thousand miles together and, generally, her guidance has been flawless. There have been just a few awkward moments, usually when I ignore her directions. “TURN AROUND WHEN POSSIBLE,” she barks, obviously frustrated by my wilful non-compliance. But, overall, our relationship has been smooth. Until recently.

I am a faithful Maps devotee. My wife, Kay, is rather keen on Waze. She’s even changed the voice on her app, and is guided by a chap who sounds like a blond, 30-something Australian surfer dude. That’s when everything went wrong. 

It happened during a recent, lengthy car journey. Kay and I have a shared gift of getting lost. We have a great marriage, marred only by bouts of navigational tension. As the driver, I was paying attention to Brenda (the name I’ve given to my Maps beloved). Kay was listening to Bruce the Ozzy on Waze. 

All was going rather well; Brenda and Bruce were in unison, as were Kay and I. But then suddenly, without warning, Brenda wanted me to exit the motorway to avoid traffic. Bruce vehemently disagreed, insisting that even with congestion, the M25 was still the fastest way.

At one point, it felt like Bruce and Brenda were becoming more agitated and shrill in their instructions, seeking to shout each other down. The experience taught us that navigating with two contradictory voices is a recipe for conflict and confusion. 

But that’s what many of us who follow Jesus do every day. 

There’s a voice that is familiar, faithful and true. Our hearts become attuned to God’s directions as we immerse ourselves in scripture, listen to the Holy Spirit and humbly seek counsel when the road takes an unexpected turn. Jesus calls himself the Way (John 14:6).

But there’s a competing voice, one that sometimes shouts and, at other times, purrs seductively. It promises much but never delivers. When we yield to the relentless voice of temptation, we hope to find a promised land of pleasure, but end up in the barren wilderness of sin. That voice presses the mute button on consequences and compels us to repeatedly trudge the same old sad pathways. 

Surely this is the predicament of every disciple. 

The apostle Paul gave us a third of the New Testament, planted many churches and mentored younger leaders. He was a resilient, faithful chap, blessed with an ability to prompt a riot in just about every place he travelled to. But centuries before Bruce and Brenda, he shared his struggle with competing, conflicting voices. Writing to his Christian friends in Rome, he lamented: “Although I want to do good, evil is right there with me. For in my inner being I delight in God’s law; but I see another law at work in me, waging war against the law of my mind and making me a prisoner of the law of sin at work within me. What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?” (Romans 7:21–24).

Thankfully, Paul answers his own desperate question, identifying the rescuer: “Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord” (v25). Help and power is available. The dark voice lies, seeking to steal our hope with the scam that we are “only human”.

Let’s refuse temptation’s deception and keep in step with Jesus. In a world of so much uncertainty, this is surely true: he will get us safely home.