There is a quiet wonder that happens on the open road. When the music plays, and the highway stretches out ahead, it’s easy to look past the pavement and start noticing the other drivers sharing the journey. Just yesterday, on the drive up to a Q&A session with a friend and a new group of people, Kevin and I found ourselves talking about this very thing—wondering about the lives passing us by. As we cruised down the highway sharing those thoughts, our eyes were drawn to the solitary figures behind the steering wheels of the cars next to ours, wondering what thoughts swirl through a person’s mind in the quiet sanctuary of their own vehicle.

​Every car is a tiny, moving universe, carrying a life just as complex, vivid, and deep as our own. A woman stares straight ahead, her knuckles a little white on the wheel—is she processing a severe medical diagnosis, or just trying to hold it together after a devastating day at work? A man drives with his windows rolled down, letting the wind rush in—is he finally enjoying a moment of pure, uninterrupted peace after a long season of chaos?

​When those thoughts take hold, they bring a quiet stirring to the heart. It makes you ask:

​Is God working with them right now? What do they need in this exact moment?

​And so, that curiosity easily turns into a silent petition to the heavens for whoever is inside. If they are hurting, a prayer for comfort as they continue their travel. If they are exhausted, a prayer for rest to wash over them before they pull into the driveway.

​But the road has a beautiful way of turning the mirrors back around.

​On the drive home, after hours of deep, thought-provoking discussion at the meeting, the atmosphere in our car shifted completely. Kevin and I were locked in an intense conversation of our own, processing everything that had just been shared. The weight and energy of our shared words replaced the quiet observation of the drive-up. We were so deeply immersed in that world that the surrounding traffic faded into the background.

​It brings a new thought to mind. If someone had pulled up next to us at a red light in that moment, they would have looked over and seen a husband and wife deeply, intensely lost in conversation. They might have wondered about the two of us. What are they talking about so seriously? Did they get heavy news? Are they alright?

​That is the beautiful mystery of the road. We take turns. Sometimes we are the quiet prayer-warriors looking out and lifting others up to God, and sometimes our car is the one carrying the heavy, beautiful, intense moments of life.

​We cross paths for only a fraction of a second, absolute strangers moving toward different destinations, yet each of us is carrying an unseen burden or a hidden joy. In those passing moments on the asphalt, the road stops being just a commute. It becomes a sacred reminder that under the watchful eye of God, none of us are truly traveling alone.