Sorry this is so long: 3 pages in Microsoft Word, but hopefully worth it?
Introduction
I recently went on a trip to Joplin, MO to help with the recovery efforts there. I was only there for two days, but it was a great experience helping in a very small way to build up what that tornado tore down. Actually, I wasn’t doing any literal building, but was working in the food distribution center—sorting donations, stacking, restacking, and moving pallets, and helping one family load up a crib for another family that lost everything.
But that’s not actually the purpose of this little blurb. My purpose in writing is to talk about some thoughts I had on the drive home. I’ve grown to love road trips with family, friends, and loved ones over the years, and some of my best memories revolve around them, but I’ve also come to appreciate the solitude of long car drives by myself, because they provide great opportunities for reflection, worship, and prayer (no, not with my eyes closed!). This was also the case with the five hour drives to and from Joplin, but I want to focus on something I thought about on the drive home…
I drove through the damage path on the way to the interstate, and I’ve never seen anything like it. It was complete destruction, with piles of rubble in place of houses as far as the eye could see. This storm was a terrible one, and the devastating effect it had on the physical town of Joplin could only have been surpassed by the harm it inflicted on those people directly or indirectly affected—there are people in mourning as I type this, grieving for the 151 dead (that was the number the first morning I was there), wondering how they will pick their lives back up to move on, and questioning whether their faith really has any power or meaning, given their recent experiences. Times like these are known figuratively as storms in people’s lives.
Everyone goes through storms, real and figurative, and inevitably, we begin to question what we believe—and even know—to be true in our lives. I know I have, and I know people right now who seem to be caught in the perfect storms, beating them down to the point where they cannot see the God who is right next to them.
As I was driving back east on I-44, watching the sun set in my rearview mirror, and seeing the beautiful radiance of the sunset reflected on the clouds in front of me, I also saw ahead of me the breathtaking, awesome, ominous sight of a powerful storm ahead of me. I knew I would eventually catch up to the rain that was surely falling, and to the lightning that I could see illuminating the dark clouds even as I drove in the sunlight. And I marveled at the beauty of the sunset and wondered if God was not painting an extra-poignant vision for me and others, knowing that soon the sun would be blotted out by the storm. (I won’t get into this now, but is it possible that God designed sunsets to be extra beautiful, knowing that they were the last glimpse of light before the night? Ephesians 5 tells us to avoid deeds of darkness, and Jesus in Gethsemane noted that the soldiers came in the hour of night, “when darkness reigns” (Ephesians 5:11 and Luke 22:53).) Next time you see a sunset, let it be a reminder that darkness can open up spiritual doors that should remain shut, but also remember that God is light, but that He is with us even in the darkness, because “darkness is as light to [Him]” (Psalm 139:12).
Anyway, I had a good time listening to and taking notes (while I was driving!) on some sermons on Bott Radio Network and watching the storm build on the horizon, and got to call the cops to report a cow going the wrong direction on I-44 East, but eventually I caught up to the storm, and then things changed. The clouds darkened the sky dramatically, the lightning was spectacular, and the rain pounded increasingly heavily on my windshield. I was most certainly driving into the heart of a powerful storm.
As the rain intensified and the sky darkened, I came to stretches of the road where I could not see where I was going for the rain, in spite of my RainEx and the windshield wipers. The primary and best way for me to navigate was by fixing my eyes and that little, usually insignificant white strip of paint on the far right of the interstate. This exercise brought back to my mind something I’ve thought about before: the idea of putting one’s faith in a little white line.
Faith and the Christian journey
People sometimes struggle with understanding what exactly faith is. In Romans 3:26, “he did it to demonstrate his justice at the present time, so as to be just and the one who justifies those who have faith in Jesus” or 2 Corinthians 5:7, “for we walk by faith, not by sight,” what does that word, faith, mean? While faith is a mysterious word, trust is something that people understand. Do you trust your wife? Your son? Your employee? We may say we trust them to…fill in the blank: not cheat, not steal, not do drugs, but do we really? Do we act like it? The same goes for trust in Jesus. We can say we trust Him to make us right before God the Father, and to get us through thick and thin here in this life, but do we live like we know that He’s watching out for us, and will work for our good (Romans 8:28) even if we don’t see how it’s possible?
Let me come back to that little white line. When I (or anyone else) was driving through that storm, unable to see anything except the next twenty-or-so feet of that little white line, we were trusting that white line to get us along the next hundred yards of interstate. Why did we trust that white line? Well, because we trust our government (which was in charge of putting that white line there for our safety) to know what it’s doing and have our best interests at heart. We trust them not to give us the white line and then lead us right into the guard rail with it! When I was in the middle of that downpour, unable to see where I was going, I had to trust in that little white line, and you can bet I didn’t once wonder if it was trustworthy or not.
This is getting rather long, so I’ll try to be less long-winded: why is it that we trust our government, which has proven to be inept and corrupt, and yet we so often rush out wildly on our own strength when things get rough, not trusting in the God of the universe to get us through the storm? Why do we so often claim that we do trust, yet live our lives as a walking testament to the contrary? God’s special revelation of Himself to us—the Bible—tells us that “in all things, God works for the good of those who love him and have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). Rather than try to see through the uncertainty of life, with our frail, human perspective, why can we not simply trust that God will carry us who love Him through whatever might come our way, empowering us to fulfill His purposes along the way?
A few other thoughts: in good weather, that little white line is still there on the interstate, but we hardly ever pay attention to it. Is that how we treat God too? Ignoring Him until we are in dire straits? For those of us who are angry with God, or question why He is allowing you to go through some storm right now, let me ask you if this storm is causing you to draw closer to Him? Could there be a higher purpose in that—one that transcends your temporary suffering?
That little white line actually was not always there, by my side. When I came to an exit on the interstate, it disappeared for a few tense seconds. Thankfully God is not like this. He is always within us as Christians, whether we can see Him or have fellowship with Him or not, and He is always a moment away from any non-Christian who humbly seeks Him out.
But what about times when we simply lose sight of Him? How do we find direction in life when it seems that God is not there, or not answering us? I’ll tell you what I did when I was driving past an exit and couldn’t see that little white line: I looked up to the tail lights of the car in front of me. I had very good reason to trust that it was safe to follow them, temporarily, not out of choice, but out of necessity. After all, they were also following the little white line, and had just been where I was, at the exit. Yes, they may have been spraying up water from the road into my eyes, in some ways making it harder to see (just as we may sometimes butt heads with our most valuable Christian brothers), but those two little red lights provided me a brief support in my own blindness. I would guess that’s part of why our government commands that cars have them. In the same way, we can look to other Christians when things seem bleak, and when God seems absent, not in idolatry. God has given us fellowship with other believers for a reason. Of course, none is perfect except Christ, but Paul clearly commends the Thessalonians for following his example and Christ’s example (1 Thessalonians 1:6).
Furthermore, Paul commends the Thessalonians for being a model to the other believers in the region (1:7), and Christ Himself commands us to instruct disciples in His commands (Matthew 28:20). As I was driving along, my taillights probably led other cars along the road (another reason that it was so important for me to stay on it), my brake lights warned other cars that I was slowing, and when things became really treacherous, sometimes my four-way flashers were an added caution. If I saw someone driving without their headlights on, it would be my duty to flash my headlights at them, warning them of their danger. It would be a sin to condemn them for driving in such a way, because I sometimes forget them myself, but it would be silly not to warn them of their own danger simply because I did not want to appear judgmental.
Finally, all of this talk of that little white line becomes moot if my own headlights are out. The point of my headlights is that it illuminates the white line so that it may guide me safely. The Bible is also our primary means to seeking out God’s will for our lives. Psalm 119 says that it is “a lamp to my feet and a light for my path” (verse 105). We may try to see by the streetlights along the interstate, but in a heavy rain, those will only blind us to what we should see. We may try to look to the headlights of the cars going the other direction, but those will also blind us and lead us astray. In the end we want to just turn on our headlights, follow that little white line, and trust that we will arrive safely on the other side. "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in [Jesus]" (John 14:1). "And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age" (Matthew 28:20).
