There were a few times that, as a youngster, I remember our family taking road trips, some by car and at least one by train. Road trips are sometimes like pilgrimages to revered sites almost sacred in meaning. They all begin with a destination in mind and may, or may not, end well. Dad and Mom loaded the car with suitcases and three kids in the backseat in the days before seat belts. We set off from Miami to Jacksonville, staying with relatives there. We were late for my cousin’s wedding, but we arrived in time for the reception at the Yacht Club. We were underdressed for the party, and I was disappointed that we were not allowed to drink the orange juice punch.

We headed north to the Smokey Mountains and learned the story of my mother’s family trip to the Smokey’s when, as a little girl, she walked over to pet the baby bear. The bear ripped the front of her dress and she was fortunate to survive without scars. We made it to Washington, D.C. to stay with my Aunt Clyde, whoever she was. She took us to the zoo where we witnessed, in horror, a sleepy grizzly bear leap straight up to catch and eat a hapless pigeon that had landed in the tree above. Along the way back we ran out of relatives and stayed at one of those little cabin-like motor inns. The room had a vibrating bed, if you could come up with the quarters. The three kids in the backseat were somehow always in trouble. Then, before we knew it, we were home. 

God’s call to Abraham set him on a family road trip to a land of promise—he obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going. (Hebrews 11:8) Like Abraham’s, our life-long road trip is filled with unexpected twists and surprises, bickering and beauty, tragedy and grace. While some may choose to make their pilgrimage on their own, Christ gives us the church, a community of believers to share the journey. 

Keep healthy. Pray mightily. Enjoy your life today. Don’t pet the bears. And let’s experience the love and power of God together.

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