God’s
Road Map
Psalm
78
Yes, I know the reading is long. Think of it as spiritual spinach. It will do you good. If you’re like most of us you don’t spend
enough time with the Bible. Here’s your
chance.
While on vacation recently I finished Lee Enger’s novel, Peace
Like a River. Enger is a great
storyteller. His characters are
interesting. They draw you in to the plot
so the story carries you along. Not
everything comes out the way you’d like.
There’s some winning and some losing, but that’s like life, isn’t it?
The novel is about a father and his young son and
daughter. They embark on a road trip to
find their teenage son and brother who has been arrested for murder and
escaped. Reuben, the eleven-year-old
son, tells the story. On the first leg
of their journey they travel from Minnesota to a friend’s house in North
Dakota. As they pull into the yard Reuben
ruminates on the journey that lies ahead.
“In truth I was a little scared, and preoccupied about
where we’d go from here. For I had asked
this of Dad the previous night, asked it straight out. Where do we go from August’s? He didn’t know. We’d simply go forth, he said, like the
children of Israel when they packed up and cameled out of Egypt. He meant to encourage me. Just like us, the Israelites hadn’t any idea
where they’d end up! Just like us they
were traveling by faith! Indeed, it did
impart a thrill, yet the trip thus far…had reminded me what a hard time the
chosen people actually had of it. Once
traveling, it’s remarkable how quickly faith erodes. It starts to look like something
else—ignorance, for example. Same thing
happened to the Israelites. Sure it’s
weak, but sometimes you’d rather just have a map.”
I understand—and I believe many of you understand
also. Starting a journey, especially if
it’s from somewhere you’re glad to leave, or towards a goal you really want to
achieve, is exciting. It doesn’t matter
whether that place is geographical, emotional, relational, or some other “al,”
we’re glad to be on the move. The thrill
of expectation—expectation that things are going to be better—gets us on our
feet and propels us from darkness into expected light. We’ve experienced the beginning of freedom,
and we can’t wait for more.
Then, to use Enger’s word, erosion sets in. We realize how little progress we’ve made,
and how long the road that lies ahead. Worst
of all, we begin to understand how vague our destination is, so shrouded in
mystery that we can’t grasp it. Faith
turns to fear as we realize how little we know about what awaits us down the
road.
Psalm 78 relates the story of God’s chosen people. We see them at their high point, leaving
Egypt in spectacular fashion, crossing the Red Sea on dry ground, then watching
Pharaoh’s army—horses, men and chariots—drown as the water resumes its
flow. How could they not rejoice? How could their faith not reach its exuberant
peak? This was great! God was going to lead them straight to the
Promised Land.
Then erosion sets in.
The realization of how little they have, how much they need, how
desolate their surroundings overwhelms them, and they understand how ignorant
they are of the journey ahead.
“We need a map,” we cry, along with the Israelites. “Show us the way. Let us see where we’re going.”
“Have faith,” God says.
“Trust is all the map you need.”
“Trust me and I’ll get you there.”
Can we trust enough to follow God’s map?
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