What gives you direction in life?
I used to think direction meant knowing where I was going. Now I think it means knowing what I must keep facing.
In the old days, we followed a map. We unfolded it across the steering wheel, argued about the best route, and tried to imagine the landscape before we arrived. We had to pay attention.
Now we follow a voice on an app.
Neat. Simple. Uncomplicated.
No need for much thought. Just do what you are told.
Turn left. Stay right. Recalculating.
It is wonderfully useful. It is also a poor metaphor for life.
Life rarely gives us that kind of voice. It does not tell us every turn in advance. It does not explain the delays. And it cannot decide for us what is worth facing.
When I was younger, I thought I would be a parish minister for the rest of my working life. I imagined a clear path. Not easy, necessarily, but recognisable.
That is not how things turned out.
I did spend many years in parish ministry. But I also ended up in the university sector, teaching, leading, learning, and helping shape the lives of young adults. It was not the life I had planned, but in many ways it was the same calling in a different form.
Very few things in my life have ended up exactly as expected. The best parts often arrived by ways I could not have mapped in advance.
Direction in life is not the same as a five-year plan. A map tells you every road before you leave. An app tells you every turn as you go. But a compass simply tells you where north is.
I have needed a compass more than a map. And much more than an app.
The things that have oriented me have remained fairly constant: love, faithfulness, curiosity, service, beauty, hope. Money was never my goal. Learning mattered more. People mattered more. God mattered most.
So perhaps direction is not about predicting outcomes. Perhaps it is about being rightly oriented. Facing what is good. Facing what is true. Facing the people we are called to love. Walking with God, even when the road ahead is unclear.
I do not know that my life followed the map I once imagined.
But I am grateful for the compass.
The Afterword 
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