The fiery, 8 o’clock sun was flying high atop the clouds, beating down on my parent’s green Sequoia en route to the beautiful shores of the Florida coast. As I have done on the same drive for so many years, I took out my headphones to drown out the mundane scenery and drift off into my own selfish world of passing the time. Christian music happened to be my genre of choice; not that it mattered. I was only interested in entrancing myself within the beat and tune of the song, not in doing the taxing brainwork of considering and applying the lyrics.
As the music blared I had but two choices – to close my eyes or to stare blankly out the car window; I chose to do the latter. Nothing I hadn’t laid my eyes on before whizzed by in a lulling blur – the pattern of clustered trees and rows of crops were nearly enough to put me to sleep. I suppose I stayed awake in avoidance of the hit-by-a-truck feeling that always follows sleeping for extended periods in the car. Sleep would have to be acceptable eventually, however, seeing that eight hours remained in the monotonous journey; I just had no idea that a life lesson was part of the itinerary that I always dreaded.
It’s difficult to explain what happened next, and why this drive to the beach proved to be different from the others. It was like the captivating beauty of the painted canvas before me suddenly revealed itself. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t look at the lush green landscape highlighted by a Carolina blue sky and an uncovered, golden sun with ignorant indifference. The masterpiece we often set aside with simple descriptive terms meant more to me in that moment than the iPhone in my hands. The music previously confined to the cell of my inner ear forced its way into my body, through the suffocating masses of close-mindedness, and hit me hard in the soul. And that’s when I remembered – the thing I’ve spent so long believing, doubting, considering, forgetting, chewing on, putting off, and worrying about – is real. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes - male ego aside, of course. Jesus made us a promise; a promise that I thought was far and away along with the rest of all that holy and righteous paraphernalia of His. Turns out all I had to do was look out the window – because there’s a giant mural ceaselessly surrounding me with the same promise painted all over it.
So, I’ve decided I need to start making the necessary preparations for divine intervention before I get in a car – it seems that when God slaps me in the face, He likes to do it when I’m in the car. One thing is for certain, though; Jesus burned through the doubt in me today like the blistering sun burns through the dark of night, and His promise to us is as relevant today in the endless cornfields of Arkansas as it was in the garden of Gethsemane two thousand years ago. It’s imprinted on every leaf, rock, raindrop, and cloud in this masterpiece of which God is the flawless artist.
Grace and Peace,
J. S. Wade
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