Backing up a little bit

When I look back my three days to Del Rio, I have no doubt that I will happen upon an wide assortment of feelings. Pain, sorrow, sadness, joy, hope, and excitement. These are among the feelings that I will remember. It has now been almost a week since I drove out of Los Angeles. Doing so was, perhaps, the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. As I climbed into my car after having said goodbye to Ashley it was all I could do for three days to put my foot to the pedal and keep driving. If I stopped it was only to get gas. If I ate, it was only to keep myself from fainting. When I slept, it was to escape what seemed to be pure darkness surrounding me. It is difficult for me to explain what the three days of travel across the desert was really like. When I pulled away from Ashley’s house, I was leaving everything I knew for everything I had not the slightest idea about. Not only was I leaving the love of my life, but I was leaving my oldest and dearest friend, my sister who took care of me for my four years of college whenever I was in need, my first brother, the little sister I had just started to get to know again, my school (which despite my lack of pride in, was my home), the church I had just started to really enjoy, the apartment I had grown to love, the birds I had grown to tolerate, the city I had begun to call mine, and, let us not forget, my favorite coffee shop. When I drove away, as far as I could see, blinded as I was, I was loosing everything. And what, was I trading these things for? The unknown. Transition is difficult. Transition when you haven’t the slightest idea what awaits you at your destination is near impossible. At least that is what I found out.

Never in my memory have I hurt so badly as I did those first three days of desert driving. As mile after mile stretched by, I now see that I was fighting a battle every moment. The battle was between myself and God. It was a battle of Wills. It was my pain versus his comfort. My fear versus his power. My disbelief versus his glory. My selfishness versus his love. The strange thing is that though my Will seemed to fight God’s, my soul was on his side. Not a moment of time passed during those three days that I was not crying out to God, that I was not searching after him, that I was not falling on my face in front of him and asking that he raise me up. In the words that follow, I wish to share with you (and myself) not a story of hell or pain and sorrow, but a story of hope.

There were moments during those days that I can only explain as God having been with me. Even then, as I drove I recognized it. I want to write about two of them so that I will not forget them. The first such moment was on the second day of driving. As I drove through New Mexico (or at least I believe I was in NM by the time), I recall pleading with God. I remember sitting there, asking God why this had to be so hard. Why can’t you just give me the comfort I’m begging you for? Why can’t you just take away the pain? Why can’t you just let me see how this is all working out? As I began to cry, I felt this wave come over me. I do not want to say that God opened up the heavens and started speaking in an audible voice, but it might as well have been. The image that came to my mind at this time was one of God standing there, crying with me. As I sat there in the car, God leaned over and put his hand on me. As tears ran down His own face, he told me that he knew this hurt. He knew that this pain was excruciating. I could see in his face that it grieved him terrible to see me as I was. But then he said something that surprised me even more. He said that I must endure. He said that though this was hard and the pain seemingly unbearable, it was all part of his plan, and that I had to go through it. We live in a fallen world, and this pain is part of this fallen world. There was something in that moment that led me to believe and understand that this pain was part of the process. Dad reminded to me once, during one of hundred or so talks during my drive, that it is darkest just before the dawn. In this moment I could see the darkness beginning to reseed, and the light to appear on the horizon. This is not to say that at from that moment forward everything was hunky dory. In fact, this could not be further from the truth. What it does mean is that in that moment, I knew that every inch of the way, through every trial and tribulation, through every frustration and fear, God was there and would be there. And that must never be forgotten.

The second instance occurred during the last 150 miles of my journey. I have traveled much of the world but I have never seen anything such as this. It was, in fact, 150 miles of complete desolation. There was nothing. It was flat, dry, dead, and dead. There were dry creek beds and dead plants. There were occasional abandoned buildings standing in the middle of the desolate fields. It was perfect. For the first time during my three days of driving, I was alone. Utterly alone, except for God. I could not call Dad or Mom. I couldn’t call Amy or Sarah or Danica. I couldn’t call Ashley. It was me and it was God. Nothing to interrupt. Nothing to distract. And I spoke to God more clearly and intentionally than I may have ever done before in my life. It was, for lack of a better word, incredible. It was a time where I could thank God, despite not feeling overly thankful at the time, for everything that he had given me: for my family who was praying me across the country; for my girlfriend, who got dropped into my life out of nowhere and helped carry me during these days; for allowing me to do the job I have always wanted to do, even if I still have to wait a little while; for the friends who will continue to stand by my side no matter where I am; for the grace he was pouring on me; for the grace my friends and family were lavishing upon me; for allowing me to go home for Christmas and California for New Years. I thanked him in faith for the new friends he has been preparing for me; for the housing situation he was preparing for me; for the job he would have for me here at Laughlin; for the pilot wings I would eventually get. It was a highway of thanksgiving; one hundred and fifty miles of praise.

So why share all this? Why tell you who happen to read these words what happened during those days? The answer is simple. I do it to share a story of untold grace and mercy. I do it to share a story of love, friendship, parentship and siblingship. I do it to share the truth with you who were involved directly or indirectly in the process. I do it because I want you to know God is Good. He is the King of Kings and the Prince of Peace. He is our Rock. He is our Comforter. He is the Mighty Lord. He is our Shepherd. He does not grow weary. He hurts with us. He loves us. He died for us. He saves us. He prepares the way for us. He will never give us more than we can handle when we put our trust in him. He was and is and is to come. He is God. You did not let me forget it. I promise to never let you forget it either.