The Lifted Path
Parable
At the edge of the city, a trolley waited at the stop—long, familiar, and crowded with passengers. It looked like every other bus that ran the same streets each day. People boarded with routine expectations, clutching schedules and conversations that stayed close to the ground.
Then, without warning, the trolley began to rise.
There was no runway, no dramatic announcement. It did not change its shape or appearance. It simply lifted—slowly at first—until the wheels no longer touched the street. What had always moved forward now moved upward.
Inside, some passengers noticed the change. Others remained unaware, still discussing destinations as if nothing had shifted. The trolley did not abandon its riders, nor did it leave the city behind. It carried them all—aware and unaware—into the air.
From a distance, one observer stood still, watching the familiar become airborne. The vehicle had not transformed into something new; it had simply begun to operate beyond what it was known for.
And the route, though once mapped on pavement, now traced the sky.
Devotional
“For My thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways My ways,” declares the Lord.
— Isaiah 55:8 (NIV)
There are moments when God does not introduce something new—He elevates what is already known.
In this parable, the trolley represents ordinary systems, routines, or callings—the paths people take daily without expecting transformation. It is communal, shared, and familiar. No one boarded it expecting flight.
Yet elevation came not through replacement, but through repurposing.
The most striking detail is not that the trolley flew, but that it remained full. No one was removed. No one was singled out. The lifting was collective. This reminds us that growth does not always feel dramatic from the inside. Some are carried into new dimensions of understanding without realizing when the shift occurred.
Equally important is the role of the observer.
The one watching was not steering, announcing, or directing. They were witnessing. Sometimes discernment is not about control—it is about recognition. God often shows certain people what is happening so they can name it later, pray into it, or understand it when others cannot yet explain what they’ve experienced.
This parable invites a gentle question: What if God is lifting familiar routes into higher purpose, even when they still look the same?
Not every calling is to board.
Not every calling is to pilot.
Some callings are to see clearly, to understand transitions, and to guard perspective when others are simply along for the ride.
Elevation does not always announce itself. Sometimes, it just happens—quietly—until someone notices the ground is no longer beneath their feet.
Prayer
Lord,
Give me eyes to recognize when You are lifting what once felt ordinary.
Help me trust You when the ground beneath familiar things begins to fall away.
Teach me when to move, when to rest, and when to simply observe what You are doing.
If You are elevating my understanding, my calling, or the people around me, anchor my heart in humility and wonder.
Amen