According to

The compass

Wherever you happen

To stand,

North, south,

East and west,

Meet in the palm

Of your hand.

–Valerie Worth

I received my first compass when I was very young—maybe seven or eight years old.  It was a pretty flimsy specimen, more a toy than a tool.  It was tiny, about the size of a nickel and attached to a shiny blue carabiner.  Oddly enough, I acquired that compass not from an outdoors store or a hiking company but from my local library, where the implements were being used as prizes for children who read a certain number of books during the library’s wilderness-themed summer reading program.  A voracious reader who needed no encouragement to become lost in a book, I easily met the goal and received the compass as my reward.

That little compass was my friend for several years, my partner in backyard excursions, my companion on family hikes.  Thanks to its influence, I fell in love with compasses.  They captivated me both with their enigmatic accuracy and their ability to provide a security I found reassuring.

I still have that little nickel-sized compass, and although its dial is a bit wobbly now, I would never part with it.  Over the years, however, it’s been joined by a collection of other compasses, gathered from here and there.  There’s the flat black compass with a clear face and guide lines, enabling it to be placed over a map for ease of charting a course.  There’s also my red wooden compass on its multicolored string—the size of a medallion, it swung from my neck during many an exploratory venture.  In my hiking belt at this moment is a sophisticated lenticular compass with brass rods to indicate precise directional variations next to a flat orange compass that cost $1.99.  Last but not least is my whimsical compass—a carved wooden ladybug, complete with knobby feet and a painted smile, with a directional dial embedded in her back.  This one, a gift from my grandmother, rode in the pocket of my hiking pants for years until I retired her from active service for the protection of her chipping paint. 

This list doesn’t even begin the enormity of my collection.  I’ve named only a few of my favorites, and that’s not counting my other devices, like binoculars and survival tool, that contain built-in compasses.  Frankly, I have more versions of this tool than I’ll ever need.  Compasses are most valuable for topographic hiking, and although I’ve tried my hand at the sport in the past, I can’t help but feel a bit leery of an activity whose main premise is simply to select a landmark on the distant horizon and beat your own route to it.  I generally hike on established trails, and while I may need a map to help me decipher the trail intersections, I’m not likely to become directionally confused.  Even on the occasions when I do need a compass—rare, in this modern world of safety and sedation—a few quick swipes would open a compass app native to my iPhone. 

Yet I won’t be scrapping my compass collection any time soon—or ever.  You see, a compass is like a memorized emergency number; you may never need to use it, but if you do, it could save your life.  Beyond their functionality, though, my compasses mean something deeper to me.  They indicate security, stability, certainty.  When I stand on a ridge, sweeping the horizon with my eyes, there’s a sense of power that comes from being able to consult a compass.  I balance the flat disc on my palm, watching the red-tipped needle tilt around the circle, 360 faultless degrees of eternity.  And then, if I am patient, if I am very still, if I do not make assumptions or judgment calls or rash choices, the needle will, in its own deliberate way, settle on the almighty N. 

And I will plunge into the underbrush with a fearless heart, for now I know my way.

When I first received that tiny compass, I wasn’t in great need of directional advice.  Life was predictable, simple, and I made my choices with the ease of routine and the reassurance of familiarity.  But each passing year seems to bring additional complications, and despite my geeky compass collection, there have been plenty of times when I’ve lost my way or questioned my direction. 

I’m not talking about the white-knuckle war of spirit and flesh, although I’ve certainly experienced that as well.  I’m referring to the times when I’ve arrived at an intersection where all choices seemed equally viable.  I have a passion to follow God’s leading, but doing so becomes difficult when His leading is nebulous.  In fact, as a teenager harassed by fears about college, I was so afraid of making a misstep that I scrawled an audacious request in my journal:  for God to send me a Manila envelope, straight from His throne room, detailing His will for the next four years of my life. 

Maybe you can relate.  Maybe you’ve been offended by someone’s behavior, and you wonder whether to lovingly confront them or simply ignore the pain.  Maybe you’re unsure about the job offer as you balance comfortable wages and room for advancement against the pressure of competition and the time away from family.  Perhaps you’ve met someone who seeks to unlock your heart, but you hesitate before handing over the key.  We’ve all been in those situations—times when we want to do God’s will, but we can’t hear His voice.  Times when we wish God would send an angel as a divine skywriter and scribble His answer on the rolling white clouds.             

Those are the times when we need a compass.  We stand on a ridge and look over a dense forest, filled with trees as identical as clones and not a signal fire in sight.  The trail forks into a Y, and both angles look much the same.  We’ve talked to other hikers, studied the maps, and examined the options, but we still feel disoriented.  The sun seems in the wrong position in the sky, and we can’t find our way.

To make things even worse, when we search the Scriptures, we find directions that seem maddeningly vague, even generic.  God, which decision should I make?  “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.”  Lord, should I date this person?  “Above all else, guard your heart.”  God, what do you want me to do?  “He has shown you, O man, what is good, and what does the Lord require of you?  To seek justice, to love mercy, to walk humbly with your God.” 

We read those verses, and we sigh in exasperation.  Of course, we think.  Yes, we know to trust God.  Yes, we understand to be humble and cling to mercy.  But we need specifics for our situation!  Why are God’s commands so generalized?

I think the clue comes from examining a traditional compass.  People unfamiliar with the use of this implement generally envision the compass needle swiveling to face the particular direction they desire to travel—adjusting itself to fit their needs.  Yet in actuality, that’s not how a compass performs.  The job of a compass is not to provide us with tailor-made directions or explicit instructions. 

The job of a compass is simply to point us north.

North—because North is the master direction, and if you know where North is, its smaller cousins—east and south and west—fit into their proper positions.  North is the greatest direction, 0 degrees on a compass, the place where the horizon’s never-ending circle begins.  So important is North, in fact, that even maps without room for a full directional panel will always include at least a tiny triangle and an N to orient users.  And with stubborn faithfulness, the compass needle will always point to North. 

You have to know where North is before you can head in any other direction. 

My friends, we are all traveling in a dense wilderness.  We could easily become lost—distracted—unfocused—bewildered.  But in the moments when confusion holds our peace hostage, all we have to do is fix our eyes on North, and the other questions subside. 

Because our True North is God—the Master of the compass, the Maker of the universe, the One Who has hand-drawn each path for our lives and Who guides us as we walk it.  He is the fixed point who does not change, never wavers, and never moves.  Indeed, God’s throne is described in Isaiah 14:13 as being “in the sides of the north.”  God is the Master Director of the master direction.  And as our True North, He has provided us with a compass to point us to Him—the Holy Spirit.

Within your heart, you hold the compass to point you North.  You’ve experienced this.  Think about a time when you chose to help someone, regardless of the inconvenience to you.  A time when you gave a little more money, or time, or love than you thought you could spare.  A time when you tentatively embraced a dream you’d cherished and used one of your gifts for God’s glory.  In those moments, my friends, your compass was pointing you to True North—just as Jesus promised.

It has been said that “God is the answer no matter the question.”  The phrase sounds cliché, but beneath the façade of banality is a rock-hard base of truth.  And maybe that’s why God doesn’t scrawl words on the sky or whisper the answer in our ear or mail us Manila envelopes full of plans.  Maybe life isn’t about always making the right turning on the trail—after all, God promises He’ll use all our decisions for His glory and our good, so perhaps there’s more room than we realize for flexibility in the specifics.  Maybe life is more about simply getting our directions straight—about choosing to look North, over and over and over, as many times as it takes to find our bearings and force our questions to shrink into their secondary roles.  Perhaps that’s why the Bible holds truths to enjoy, not lectures to memorize. 

So, if you’re at a fork in the trail, pause for an instant.  Breathe deeply and don’t allow yourself to panic.  Listen to the voice of the Holy Spirit within your heart, and keep your eyes on the horizon, 360 faultless degrees of eternity.  And then, if you are patient, if you are very still, if you do not make assumptions or judgment calls or rash choices, the Great Compass will, in His own deliberate way, settle on the N. 

And then you will plunge into the underbrush with a fearless heart, for now you know His way.