CHAPTER 1
The Journey
I have often said that there are two kinds of people: thosewho are on a spiritual journey and know it, and those whoare on a spiritual journey but don't know it yet. I believe thatthe spiritual journey includes the quest for meaning, the searchfor God, and the hunger for significant relationships. That questcontinues until our dying day.
It is human nature to think that we can arrive at the destinationof our choosing on the timetable that is most convenient.We strive for the big achievements in life—graduation, marriage,children, the big job or promotion, great wealth—thinkingeach time that we have finally "arrived." In a very real sense,many of us remain captive to the fairy tale of "living happilyever after" when, in fact, the journey never ends. Each step musthave its own meaning, and we must strive to find joy in the directionof our lives rather than in the destination.
This group of reflections includes some thoughts on howour journey sometimes takes us on detours to places we thinkwe don't want to go. But, if we are thoughtful and observant,we will often find that there are great lessons to be learned fromlife's detours. Even when we are completely lost, we may stumbleonto some of life's greatest blessings. Just as getting lost ona country drive may take you by some incredibly scenic spotyou otherwise would never have seen, there are times of greatpersonal discoveries when you feel emotionally or spirituallylost. Those are some of the things I contemplate on drives betweenmy city home and my little ranch in north Texas.
7 The Road, Part 1
A long, hot, dry Texas summer had decimated FM 1385,the paved county highway I travel regularly. Most of the roadwas fine, but there were sections where the base under the roadhad collapsed. To get past those sections I had to slow to lessthan forty miles per hour, and even then it often felt more likesailing a small boat over high seas than driving. If there wasoncoming traffic, it could be dangerous.
Coming home one night I couldn't help thinking abouthow my journeys across that road were emblematic of my trekthrough life. Sometimes my life's path has been straight andtrue and smooth, with no real obstacles. There have been timeswhen it was easy travelin' and I made good time toward mydestination. Other times I have hit rough patches that slowedme down, turbulence that frightened me, and discomfort thattempted me to give up.
I drove that county road so often that I knew where thebad spots were. They didn't bother me much. I knew that itwouldn't be far before things smoothed out. Whenever I neareda bad section, I would remind myself to slow down, drive carefully,and be patient.
You know where this is heading. Wisdom does not comeeasily, especially the kind that allows us to understand the lengthand scope of the journey God has laid in front of us. Lookingback on my life, I wish I could have displayed more equanimityduring my rough patches. I'd like to say that I always knewthings would smooth out, but I didn't. I certainly didn't alwaysunderstand it at an emotional and spiritual level. Sometimes Irailed against the injustice of life; sometimes I panicked. Therewere times when I simply cried.
I would also like to say that I have learned my lesson andthat I now not only fully understand the inevitability of toughtimes but also trust the good news that things will always getbetter. I can't tell you that. I'm sure there will be times to comewhen I will again rail against injustice or will panic or weep.
Such are the limitations of my human nature. But I hope thatI am slowly becoming wiser and that, when faced with suchtemptations, I will be reminded of what FM 1385 has taughtme: slow down, travel carefully, and be patient. Things are goingto get better.
7 The Road, Part 2
I had so many responses to the column about my adventuresalong FM 1385 that I decided to do a sequel. I was travelingwith my four-year-old grandson several weeks after writingthat column, and we passed a section where there was a detoursign. Liam was at that age where he asked about anything andwanted to understand everything. So the question came: "Whatdoes that sign say?" I told him, and he followed with the inevitable,"What is a detour?"
Have you tried explaining a detour to a four-year-old? Iwon't attempt to replicate that conversation, but I do want to tellyou that it nudged forward my memories of some of the detoursI've taken through the years. It seems that we are never reallyreceptive to detours. Let's face it, they cost us time and sometimesmoney. Yet I have fond recollections of country roads andback-country scenery I would never have enjoyed had it notbeen for the unanticipated side trips.
I also remember some of the detours I have encounteredprofessionally and personally. In fact, most of my life-changingmoments have come in ways that were unexpected.When you are traveling down one road, you don't anticipatesuddenly turning in a direction that was not on your map—mentalor otherwise. At the time, some of my personal detoursseemed good, but some appeared to be awful. Honestly, someof them were truly painful. But what is true about them all isthat somehow God was working in my life to get me to whereI finally needed to be. Looking back, that part is indisputable.
I think I'm going to preach a sermon one day on the importanceof detours in life. The working title is "Detours: HowGod Improves Your Life by Messing It Up." If you give thesubject some thought, I'm betting that you will agree with me.God guides us to where we need to be through unexpected andsometimes painful detours from the path we have chosen.
So, wherever you are in life at this moment, take the timeto look at the scenery and enjoy the journey. You are not lost becauseGod knows exactly where you are and has every intentionof getting you to exactly where you need to be.
7 Confession
Just shy of my sixty-third birthday, I began coming to gripswith a personal flaw that I could no longer ignore or pretendwas not there. Frankly, it was a private sin, and one about whichI had never felt the need to make a public confession. Nevertheless,I came to the conclusion that such an admission would dome good and that, even more, it might be helpful to those whoshare the same weakness.
It's difficult for me to type these words, but the truth I hadto face was that I have a profound distrust of God. Perhaps moreaccurately it was a profound lack of trust in God, which maybe a sin that is one shade less egregious. As a pastor who haspreached for forty years about the importance of trusting God,however, I realized that the difference was relatively minor. AlthoughI had been vaguely aware of this absence of trust all ofmy life, its consequences were becoming ever more apparent tome as I struggled with the everyday challenges of life.
My epiphany came because of concerns for my grandsons.One afternoon, while plotting all of the many things I needed todo to make sure my two grandsons would be kept safe, raised ina happy home with good moral standards, receive better-than-averageeducations, and have a head start in life, it occurred tome that I had limited power to ensure that any of those becomereality. I heard God speaking to me—a phrase I rarely use becauseI think it is so often abused by preachers—in a distinctlypowerful way. God said, quite simply, "You need to trust someof this to me."
And thus began the argument.
I started off by reminding God of all the children I have buriedduring my ministry, every one an innocent victim of someawful catastrophe. "Do you really expect me, of all people, totrust my grandsons to you?" I then proceeded to charge Godwith negligence over the number of children who are raised inhomes that provide inadequate emotional support, in communitiesand schools with inferior educational opportunities, andin societies that seem impervious to the needs of the next generation."In all honesty, God, when it comes to my grandsons,I think I can trust myself to get things done better and fasterthan you."
God was silent. For a long time. At first, sensing that perhapsI had won the debate, I felt moderately triumphant. After awhile, however, as God remained silent, I became overwhelmedby the recognition of my utter impotence. Not that I am unableto love my grandchildren, provide money for their education,or help them in many other ways that are appropriate and useful.But I faced the reality of my total powerlessness when itcomes to achieving the ultimate goal for those whom I love: asafe life with a maximum of love and a minimum of fear, a lifewell-lived and long, and a life with more joy than grief, morelaughter than tears.
The silence was deafening, the epiphany torturous. Confrontedwith this sin, which I realized had dogged me all mylife, I waited for God's next word. It did not come. Or at leastit did not come directly, but only as an echo of a statement Godhad already made: "You need to trust some of this to me."
And thus ended the argument.
7 Pray
Sitting just outside the open-air tabernacle, I struck up aconversation with the grandmother sitting next to me. "Howold is your grandson?" I asked, referring to the little boy shewas holding. "Two," she said, an answer I was expecting, but itproved to be a good conversation starter and an opportunity forme to play with the toddler a bit.
As the worship service started at the Bloys Camp Meetingoutside Fort Davis, Texas, the little boy's father came up and tookthe seat on the other side of his mother and son. Sixty minuteslater the service came to a close, and the two-year-old had doneas well as could be expected. The preacher announced the finalbenediction, "Let us pray." I closed my eyes and bowed my head,but was suddenly distracted by words being said to my left. Ilooked over to see that this child's father, a tall, rugged cowboy,had stood and was leaning down to take the little hands of his sonand push them together in the familiar fashion of offering prayer.The cowboy was whispering to his son, "Pray. Pray."
I fought back a tear as I realized how profound a moment Ihad witnessed: a father with no seminary training and probablyminimal knowledge of the latest parenting skills, neverthelessstarting his young son on his lifelong journey with God. Thegreatest preacher or theologian in the country couldn't havedone a better job. I couldn't help thinking that old Dr. Bloys,who started this Camp Meeting in 1890, would be pleased athow well his work is continuing to be done.
Sometimes I fear that in today's modern world we havemade things more complicated than they have to be. We worryabout our children, and we go to extraordinary measures andgreat expense to make sure they are safe and prepared for thechallenges that lie ahead. But it may be that the most importantexperience we can give them is the simplest: Hold their littlehands together and begin to teach them the power of prayer.
7 The Café
"How's your mama?" asked the waitress as she sat at thetable next to mine, joining the man who had become her customer."Fine," he said, "how's yours?" I was sitting in a littlecafé in Clarendon, Texas, about one hour east of Amarillo.
The population of Clarendon is about two thousand. AMethodist minister and his followers, all teetotalers, founded thecommunity in the 1870s. Because the locals allowed no drinkingor gambling, the cowboys and ranchers in the surroundingterritory derisively referred to the town as Saints' Roost. Todayit is the home of Clarendon Community College, and it laysclaim to a drive-in theater that is open all year long and showsfirst-run movies. When I was there it was playing Cars 2, whichI thought was an appropriately family-oriented selection giventhe town's no-gambling, no-drinking history.
Back to my café story. I couldn't help thinking about the remarkablevirtues of small-town life: a young waitress who knowsher customers and who takes the leisure to sit with them a momentand ask about their family. A customer who thinks this is not at allunusual. This is what I call real social networking. I don't knowwhat the relationship is between the two of them, but having livedin a small town before, I can guess. It no doubt involves an extensivemulti-generational web of family and friends, shared historyincluding skeletons in the closet no one talks about, and genuinemutual affection that accrues in the lives of those who have beenneighbors for as long as they can remember.
I have said this many times in recent years: You can Facebookand use Twitter all you want, but in the final analysis thereis a fundamental human need to socialize in ways that lie on thisside of the digital divide. I know people have made billions inthe social network stocks, but in the long term I'm betting onthings like face-to-face conversations, holding hands, lookinganother human being in the eye, and laughing—or sometimescrying—together.
This is just the truth: As long as human beings live andlove and hope and care about one another, there will always bea place where people can ask, "How's your mama?"
7 Dreams
One night not too long ago, I wore myself out trying tocomplete a college final exam for which I was ill-prepared.Even though I was asleep, the experience was about as real as itcan get. I awakened from this nightmare in a sweat at 5:45 am,which is late for me. It was a horrible experience! I'm sure itreflects some of my deep-seated insecurities.
Sometimes we feel ill-prepared for life, don't we? We try toeducate ourselves, try to plan and anticipate the challenges thatmight lie in front of us. We recruit people to help, and we pray.Still, no matter how much we work at it, we find ourselves overour heads. I'm sure there are some people who are confidentthis will never happen to them, but I am not one of them. I'mguessing you're not either.
Occasionally I have other dreams, equally powerful butmuch more enjoyable. For years I have dreamed of being witha group of people who, after crossing a difficult and dangerousvalley, make an arduous climb to the top of a ridge. The journeyis so difficult I am reluctant to start, but I have been there beforeand know the trip is worth it. When we get to the top of theridge, we see what is, quite literally, indescribable beauty. I'mpretty sure that we are looking at eternity. Or perhaps at God.
I wish there were some way we could choose our dreams—justdial up the ones we want each night before we go to sleep.Even though my "journey dream" is demanding, I would chooseit often because the rewards are so great. Unfortunately, that'snot how the brain works.
But I can tell you this: We do get to choose which dreamsto pursue in our waking hours, and there is an enormous amountof power and freedom invested in that choice. We can dreamof a world where people love God and serve others; we candream of a generation that works to build a better life for thoseto come; we can dream of a world at peace. And we can chooseto help turn those dreams into reality.
7 The Railroad Truck
I drove to the Tiger Mart in Pilot Point, Texas, one day, andthere it was, sitting in front of the store. It was a pickup truck.But not just an ordinary pickup. It said "Union Pacific" on thedoors and, in addition to the four rubber tires, there was a setof elevated steel wheels that allowed the vehicle to run on railroadtracks. I have seen these trucks on many occasions runningalong the tracks, but this was my first time to see one up close.I admit I was fascinated.
Sometimes, as I am crossing the railroad tracks that lie justto the west of Highway 377, I take a moment and glance downthe tracks in both directions. The tracks fascinate me, stretchingendlessly (or so it seems) to the north and the south. I rememberriding the train as a boy, and the sound and feel of the tracksbeneath me.
As I sat there and contemplated this truck with railroadwheels, there was a moment when my mind wandered into fantasy.I imagined turning my truck north or south and just followingthe tracks as far as they go. An endless journey into thevast beauties and mysteries of the landscape. A journey withouttraffic congestion or stoplights or complicated directions providedby some Internet mapping site.
I often talk about the concept of journey in my sermons,and I don't think there is any better biblical image for life thanthat of journey. Beginning with Abraham and continuing withall the patriarchs, Moses, and down to the journey that Maryand Joseph took to Bethlehem, the Bible speaks about life thatis fluid and changing, always calling us into the unknown. Howwe wish it could be as easy and straight and uncomplicated asthose railroad tracks! In reality, our spiritual journeys are morelike the ones we take in our automobiles with the complicatedmaps: congestion on the interstate, a wrong turn here, a detourthere. Even most of our biblical heroes experienced the challengesof finding their way through life.
