Eight Reflections from the Road

As we traveled, I couldn’t help myself from having “preacher brain” and reflecting on lessons and learnings from the road. Here are eight reflections in no particular order.

After four weeks, 20 states, and almost 9,000 miles in our Honda minivan (!), we’re almost home. It’s been a great time, like a mullet haircut, with business up front (the first half) and fun in the back (the second half). As we traveled, I couldn’t help myself from having “preacher brain” and reflecting on lessons and learnings from the road. Here are eight reflections in no particular order.

The path and the sky

A family favorite on our annual retreat in Tahoe is the two mile round trip hike to Eagle Lake above Emerald Bay. It’s a mile uphill on the way in and a mile downhill on the way back. Partway through the trees, under the granite faces of the Sierras, I walked back down the mountain. Careful not to twist an ankle on the descent, I watched my steps carefully. In my care for the path, though, I realized that I was missing the beauty of the sky, the cool Alpine air, and the moment alone with Jesus. Often we do this, don’t we? We miss the beauty of the place and the moment because we want to carefully navigate the terrain. It’s important not to twist an ankle but it’s also important to breathe in the beauty and grace of the moment.

Our Christ-haunted nation

We saw churches and billboards proclaiming Jesus all over the nation, not just in the Bible Belt. I keep coming back to Tom Holland’s Dominion to help explain the important influence of Christianity on Western culture. That is multiplied several times over in American life, I think. Our nation is haunted by the Christian faith. Often haunting implies fear, and many folks fear or hate Christianity. Sometimes because of the junk that Christians have done, sometimes for unjustified reasons. Either way, Christians must continue to witness to the truth of Jesus in a culture where he’s often reduced to a cliche or a curse-word.

The good of conservation

We overlooked the Grand Canyon as the wind flapped our hair and clothes. We trembled under the massive face of El Capitan in Yosemite. We gazed over the layered mounds of the Badlands. More than 100 years ago, at the gateway to Yosemite Valley, John Muir helped convinced Teddy Roosevelt that we must protect and conserve these natural treasures. The National Park system was born not long after. Part of our responsibility in the world is to conserve and protect irreplaceable natural, God-made treasures.

The Creation Mandate

Under the sixty-foot faces of Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, and Lincoln, we saw the impressive work of creative people. When we toured through Mount Rushmore, we watched a video about the history of the monument. Initially, some pushed back against the idea of sculpting the rocky spires of the Black Hills of South Dakota. They said, “Who is so presumptuous to think they could improve on God’s hills?” Yet, we are heirs of such innovation. When God created humanity, he didn’t say, “Fill the earth and protect it.” He said, “Fill the earth and subdue it” (Gen. 1:28). Theologians call this command both the creation mandate and the cultural mandate. God commanded humanity to take the raw material of creation and turn it into stuff. To take granite spires and sculpt them into monuments. This impulse can be presumptuous and idolatrous (see the Tower of Babel). But it can also be good and beautiful, while the work of conservation can devolve into pagan worship of creation rather than the Creator.

The limits of creation’s revelation

In the midst of the grand scenes of God’s handiwork, our family sometimes bickered. We were tired from so much driving, restlessness from hotel beds, and general adventuring. Tiredness mixed with sinfulness, and we got into some family squabbles. While looking at some of the most beautiful things God put into our world, our sin surfaced. As beautiful as the mountains and valleys might be, they don’t offer hope for sinful little people in awe of their majesty. Creation reveals God’s glory, but only Christ reveals God’s grace. The mountains declare God’s majesty, but only the Messiah declares God’s mercy. We need the gospel, we need the Bible, we need Jesus. We need the hill of Calvary more than the scenic summits of the world.

It’s the people

Our first big stop was in Chicago. I had a symposium and a presented a paper for my fellowship with The Center for Pastor Theologians. Laura and the kids did fun things downtown while I did nerdy theologian stuff with the fellowship. During the symposium, Dr. Doug Sweeney, our theological mentor, said he went “home” to his hotel room the night before, because, “Wherever my wife is, is home.” There is a world of truth in that statement. As much as the places matter, the people matter more. I loved seeing the places, but it mattered all the more because of the people, friends and family. I treasure the days in the cabin with my side of the family, seeing aunts and uncles along the way and friends at symposiums and conventions, and especially the hours packed into our van with our little family of five. It’s the people.

The importance of rhythms

Life on the road is an adventure, and travel is wonderful. But it totally disrupted our normal life rhythms. “Bible time” (our family’s term for devotions), diet, and all sorts of things fell out of sync. I love the adventure, but the routines and rhythms of life are important for stability, productivity, and health.

The local church

I missed our local church like crazy, and I can’t wait to be back. The local church is irreplaceable. We enjoy visiting other congregations, but there’s no place like home.