I have been blessed over the last 20 years to be able to travel around the country from Seattle to Atlanta and from Albuquerque to Buffalo. Throughout all of these trips across the country, one theme has remained solidly intact. That is simply this – I don’t travel well.
Don’t take that statement lightly, because time and time again it has held true. For example, there was the night I was on a Greyhound bus in Idaho at two o’clock in the morning when a gentleman was placed on our bus by local law enforcement. There were six empty seats, including the one next to me. Which did my leather clad, sunglasses wearing friend sit? Well of course right next to me. I did not ask the gentleman why he had the honor of a personal police escort to the bus, nor did I ask about the stainless steel bracelets the police had removed from his wrists. I do recall that I didn’t utter a word until I changed buses in Kansas City. No, I don’t travel well.
There was the time driving across the country with my older brother when we encountered a toad strangler (that’s a heavy thunderstorm for the less educated) outside of Cheyenne. In the midst of getting our little 1985 Escort whipped across the highway by passing trucks, the driver’s side windshield wiper broke off. It was a sight to see, my brother driving in this massive storm with his head leaning all the way over to the passenger’s side so he could see to drive. It only took us two hours to realize that we could take the wiper off my side of the car and put it on the driver’s side. I don’t travel well.
We can’t forget the time I sat on the tarmac at the airport in Dallas when it began to storm. We waited three hours for a break in the storm so we could take off. By that time I was nearly in need of a doctor, because of the frightened woman sitting next to me. It was her first time flying, and she was a nervous wreck. She held my arm in fear, and with every lightning strike, her claws, um I mean fingernails, drew deeper into that arm. By the time we took off, she drew blood. I could easily write of at least a dozen travel experiences that were less than spectacular.
The amazing thing is this though - I don’t travel well, but Christ does! No matter where I go, Christ goes with me! Who else can you say that about? Your family and friends love you, but they can’t be with you all of the time. In those dark hours when you can’t sleep because of the thousand thoughts in your mind there is only One who will always be there for you. Christ has already told us He would never leave us or forsake us. The Bible is full of stories of people who were in bad situations where no one else could get to them to help, but Christ was there. After his mentor Moses was gone, the Lord reminded Joshua that He would never leave him. All you have to do is read the stories of Paul and Silas in prison. Where no others could get to them, God was right there! It is so easy to forget at times, especially the times when we find ourselves in the depths of our problems. It’s hard to imagine that someone could be there and understands, but He promised us several times, He would be there.
Lastly and maybe the most important story I can share from my travel experiences was the time my brother and I took the bus from Washington to Arkansas. We were near the end of our trip when we got to Joplin, Missouri. All we had to do was transfer buses in Joplin and take a one hour ride to Springfield where family would pick us up. One big problem, there were no seats on that bus. We sat and waited for hours until the next bus came. We called family, but got no answer. So when the next bus came, we were concerned if our family might now be on the way to Joplin to get us. So my brother told me to go on to Springfield and if our family was there, come back to Joplin for him. Yes, in hindsight it seemed like a lot of effort but we had been on buses for about fifty hours.
When I got to Springfield, I met our family and explained what had happened. I let them know we would have to go to Joplin to pick up my brother. My grandpa said it was no problem, we just needed to grab our luggage. Dang, in all of the frustration of the day, my brother had our luggage claim tickets. I went up to the luggage claim counter and explained the situation. She was a nice woman and very sympathetic, but she flatly stated that without a claim ticket I couldn’t have the luggage. I was not twenty feet from my suitcase. I could see it through the doorway! I mean I showed her my bus ticket, but no dice. I proceeded to pinch my leg through my pocket so I could maybe shed a tear for affect, but she didn’t waver. We had to go get my brother and return for our suitcases.
I tell you all of that to say this. There will come a time when you will be standing in front of the Great Ticket Taker. He is going to ask for your ticket, and as sincere as you are, Buddha, Mohammed, and Brahman aren’t going to be the right ticket. There is only one ticket that the Great Ticket Taker will accept. My prayer is that when that day comes, you can boldly proclaim, “Jesus Christ is my ticket!”
Don’t take that statement lightly, because time and time again it has held true. For example, there was the night I was on a Greyhound bus in Idaho at two o’clock in the morning when a gentleman was placed on our bus by local law enforcement. There were six empty seats, including the one next to me. Which did my leather clad, sunglasses wearing friend sit? Well of course right next to me. I did not ask the gentleman why he had the honor of a personal police escort to the bus, nor did I ask about the stainless steel bracelets the police had removed from his wrists. I do recall that I didn’t utter a word until I changed buses in Kansas City. No, I don’t travel well.
There was the time driving across the country with my older brother when we encountered a toad strangler (that’s a heavy thunderstorm for the less educated) outside of Cheyenne. In the midst of getting our little 1985 Escort whipped across the highway by passing trucks, the driver’s side windshield wiper broke off. It was a sight to see, my brother driving in this massive storm with his head leaning all the way over to the passenger’s side so he could see to drive. It only took us two hours to realize that we could take the wiper off my side of the car and put it on the driver’s side. I don’t travel well.
We can’t forget the time I sat on the tarmac at the airport in Dallas when it began to storm. We waited three hours for a break in the storm so we could take off. By that time I was nearly in need of a doctor, because of the frightened woman sitting next to me. It was her first time flying, and she was a nervous wreck. She held my arm in fear, and with every lightning strike, her claws, um I mean fingernails, drew deeper into that arm. By the time we took off, she drew blood. I could easily write of at least a dozen travel experiences that were less than spectacular.
The amazing thing is this though - I don’t travel well, but Christ does! No matter where I go, Christ goes with me! Who else can you say that about? Your family and friends love you, but they can’t be with you all of the time. In those dark hours when you can’t sleep because of the thousand thoughts in your mind there is only One who will always be there for you. Christ has already told us He would never leave us or forsake us. The Bible is full of stories of people who were in bad situations where no one else could get to them to help, but Christ was there. After his mentor Moses was gone, the Lord reminded Joshua that He would never leave him. All you have to do is read the stories of Paul and Silas in prison. Where no others could get to them, God was right there! It is so easy to forget at times, especially the times when we find ourselves in the depths of our problems. It’s hard to imagine that someone could be there and understands, but He promised us several times, He would be there.
Lastly and maybe the most important story I can share from my travel experiences was the time my brother and I took the bus from Washington to Arkansas. We were near the end of our trip when we got to Joplin, Missouri. All we had to do was transfer buses in Joplin and take a one hour ride to Springfield where family would pick us up. One big problem, there were no seats on that bus. We sat and waited for hours until the next bus came. We called family, but got no answer. So when the next bus came, we were concerned if our family might now be on the way to Joplin to get us. So my brother told me to go on to Springfield and if our family was there, come back to Joplin for him. Yes, in hindsight it seemed like a lot of effort but we had been on buses for about fifty hours.
When I got to Springfield, I met our family and explained what had happened. I let them know we would have to go to Joplin to pick up my brother. My grandpa said it was no problem, we just needed to grab our luggage. Dang, in all of the frustration of the day, my brother had our luggage claim tickets. I went up to the luggage claim counter and explained the situation. She was a nice woman and very sympathetic, but she flatly stated that without a claim ticket I couldn’t have the luggage. I was not twenty feet from my suitcase. I could see it through the doorway! I mean I showed her my bus ticket, but no dice. I proceeded to pinch my leg through my pocket so I could maybe shed a tear for affect, but she didn’t waver. We had to go get my brother and return for our suitcases.
I tell you all of that to say this. There will come a time when you will be standing in front of the Great Ticket Taker. He is going to ask for your ticket, and as sincere as you are, Buddha, Mohammed, and Brahman aren’t going to be the right ticket. There is only one ticket that the Great Ticket Taker will accept. My prayer is that when that day comes, you can boldly proclaim, “Jesus Christ is my ticket!”