Journey of a Life

My kids are growing up fast; too fast. Kelcey is about to be 22 in September and Jordan just turned 17. As I think of them, I can’t help but think how much they have taught me by letting me teach them. Let me explain.

The most knowledge gained has to be on long car trips. The longest we have taken has been to Florida or Myrtle Beach. Transporting a family from one city to another is closely akin to God transporting us from our home to his. And some of life’s stormiest hours occur when the passengers and the driver disagree on the destination.

A journey is a journey, whether the destination is the beach or a more heavenly one. Both demand patience, a good sense of direction, and a driver that knows the destination is worth the hassles in the midst of the trip.

The time I am remembering is some 12 years ago. And the fact that my pilgrims were all under the age of 10 only enriched my learning experience.

As minutes rolled into hours and the car rolled through the hills, I began to realize that what I was saying to my kids had a familiar ring. I had heard it before – from God. All of a sudden, the car became a classroom. I realized that I was doing for a few hours what God has done for centuries: encouraging travelers who’d rather rest than ride.

Here are some of the observations:

1. In order to reach the destination, we have to say no to some requests.

Can you imagine the outcome if a parent honored each request of each child during a trip? We’d inch our bloated bellies from one ice-cream store to the next. Our priority would be popcorn and our itinerary would read like a fast-food menu.

Can you imagine the chaos if a parent indulged every indulgence?

Can you imagine the chaos if God indulged each of ours?

No is a necessary word to take on a trip. Destination has to reign over Dairy Queen. God’s destiny for your life, Salvation.

When I’m in the driver’s seat as the father of my children, I remember that I’m in charge. But when I’m in the passenger’s seat as a child of my Father, I forget that he’s in charge. I forget that God is more concerned with my destiny than with my belly (although my belly hasn’t done badly). And I complain when He says no.

The requests that my children make are not evil. They weren’t unfair. They weren’t rebellious. In fact, we had a couple of cones and cokes. But most of the requests were unnecessary. My 8-year-old daughter would argue that fact. From her viewpoint, another soft drink was indispensable to her happiness. I knew otherwise, so I said no.

A thirty-year-old woman would argue that fact. From her standpoint, that man with that job and that name is exactly who she needs to be happy. Her Father, who is more concerned that she arrive at his city than at the altar, says, “Wait a few miles. There’s a better option down the road.”

“Wait!” she protests. “How long do I have to wait?”

Which brings us to the second one…

2. Children have no concept of miles or minutes.

“We’ll be there in about three more hours,” I said.

“How long is three hours?” Kelcey asked. (Now how do explain time to a child who can’t tell time?)

“Well, it’s about as long as six Rugrats shows.” I ventured.

They both groaned in unison. “SIX Rugrats? That’s forever!”

And to them it is. And to us, it seems that way, too.

He who lives forever has placed himself at the head of a band of pilgrims who mutter, “How long, O Lord? How long?”

How long must I endure this sickness?

How long must I endure this spouse?

How long must I endure this paycheck?

Do we really want God to answer? He could, you know. He could answer. But he seldom does that.

“It’s a short journey,” I offer to the children. “We’re almost there.”

I know. I’ve been there before. I’ve driven this road. I’ve covered this territory. For me, it’s no challenge. Ah, but for the children, it’s eternal.

Just think how good it will be,” I depict. “The beach, the pool, the fun… I promise that when we get there, the trip will have been worth it.”

And they groan again.

Which brings us to number three…

3. Children can’t envision the reward.

It’s not easy to get two children under the age of 10 to see a place they can’t see. But it’s necessary. It’s not easy for us either, especially when the road is bumpy… the hour is late… and companions are wanting to cancel the trip and take up residence in a motel. It’s not easy to fix our eyes on the unseen. But it’s necessary.

Let me speak plainly…

For some of you the journey has been long. Very long and very stormy. In no way would I ever minimize the difficulties that you have had to face along the way. Some of you have shouldered burdens that few of us could ever carry. You have bid farewell to life-long partners. You have been robbed of life-long dreams. You have been given bodies that can’t sustain your spirit. You have spouses who can’t tolerate your faith. You have bills that out number the paychecks and challenges that outweigh the strength.

And you are tired.

It’s hard for you to see the City in the midst of the storms. The desire to pull over to the side of the road and get out entices you. You want to go on, but some days the road seems so long.

Let me encourage you with one final note:

It’s now the day after. I am sitting on the balcony listening to the ocean and watching the moon rise over the tide. As we played in the sand today, no one spoke of the long trip. No one mentioned the requests that I didn’t honor. No one grumbled about how many places I passed up on the way when his or her heart was focused on an ice cream. No one complained about the late hour of our arrival.

Yesterday’s challenges were lost in today’s joy.

Remember this: God may not do what you want, but he will do what is right… and best. He’s the father of forward motion. Trust him. He will get you home. And the trials of the trip will be lost in the joys of the beach.

Have a great journey!

Pastor Dad