Are we there yet?!?

“The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.” Lao Tzu

  I’m not a good traveler. When I was little, I hated it when our whole family would pile into the station wagon and head off for our annual vacation in Florida. I loved the destination but I despised the journey.

  I loved it when we arrived. My love for the sound of waves breaking on the beach, the smell of salt and sand, and the cries of seagulls hasn’t abated a bit in over fifty years. As we drew closer, I’d be peering out the window for that first glimpse of the ocean.

  I loved fishing in the surf, digging for sand crabs, bodysurfing the waves and building sandcastles. There’s nothing better than walking a warm, sandy beach late at night. You’d see the blinking lights of shrimp boats far off in the ocean. We’d scoop up crabs for a crab dinner who’d came floating in with high tide. We’d shine our flashlights out as far as we could see and the light would dissipate into the pitch black of the ocean.

  It really wasn’t that far of a trip, basically a day trip. We could leave Atlanta and be at our hotel in Ormond Beach in about seven hours. But for some reason, the trip just seemed to take forever. Probably, not more than thirty minutes into the drive. I’d be piping up from the very back of the station wagon, whining, “Are we there yet? When are we going to get there? How much farther?” and of course, “I have to go to the bathroom.” I loved the final destination but I hated the trip. Those seats seem to get so sticky so quickly and you felt so cramped. You could only look at comic books for so long. Remember, this was back in the Dark Ages of AM radio with few channel selections. CD’s, even cassette tapes, were unheard of. There were no monitors of laptops. I’m sure that the lack of distractions gave birth to the Alphabet Game, the Sign Game and I spy. Many a horrible yet unforgettable tune was birthed on those seemingly endless treks. My children will tell you that I tortured them on our own long family trips with ancient versions that I learned as a child of “Pine Trees” and “The Ants go marching one by one,” to name a few.

  The Bible talks a lot about being on a journey. It’s a constant them of Hebrews 11. Probably, the most noteworthy verse of travelling, and really wandering, is verse 38, “of whom the world was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.” Though leaving their homes, apparently because of persecution and their faithfulness to God, they wandered about with no final destination on this earth. It certainly was not a vacation, yet they also did not have a home they were ultimately headed towards.

  What’s amazing is that they did it with both joy and grace. Though in horrible circumstances, they seem to be free from the constant whining of “How much longer?” The only explanation is for their wonderful attitude is that their faith, they truly trusted God.

  What a contrast we find in the book of Numbers. It’s noteworthy that they are not called “Jews” or “Israel,” but the “children of Israel.” And they certainly live up to that allusion to childish behavior.

  Freshly released from four centuries of slavery in Egypt, just three days into the journey, the Bible tells us that they began to murmur and complain. Can’t you just hear them, whining to Moses and Aaron, over and over again, incessantly for forty years: Are we there yet? When are we gonna get there? Why is this taking so long? 

  Poor Moses. Don’t you wonder how many times he thought that leading sheep for forty years had been easier? Ultimately, Moses had no control over the situation. He couldn’t wave some magic wand and make the trip shorter. God was setting the pace. God was in the driver’s seat, not Moses.

  Like little children, though, they lacked patience and self-control. They whined and complained, despising the long wait and boredom of plodding along at what they felt was a snail’s pace.

  I’m a much better traveler than I was. I’ve learned that the journey is as important as the destination. I’ve gotten where even driving all the way through Illinois and Indiana, (seemingly, the most boring states to drive through), doesn’t bother me that much anymore. I’ve learned to pace myself and sightsee. There are some interesting and important sites along the way. I’ll listen to my favorite music or a book. I’ll read or just rest.

  In the Christian life, the journey is nearly as vital as the final destination. It’s on the journey that we learn to trust our Heavenly Father. It’s on the journey that we learn to wait and grow in patience. It’s on the journey that we learn to persevere and be steadfast, when we are tempted to bail. It’s on the journey that we learn that God is on our side even when are attacked, just as the Children of Israel were. It’s on the journey that we learn that prayer changes the outcome, not whining or pitching a temper tantrum.

  Someday our Heavenly Father will bring us Home. The very thought of heaven should fill out hearts with joy and inspire us onward in the journey with strength and true patience.

  Are we there yet? No, not yet, not quite, yet every day brings a little closer. When are we going to get there? Always in His time, at the best time. Perhaps even sooner than we would expect.

  I have to think that like any loving parent, our loving God must want us Home even more than we want to be Home. Yet, there is work to do, lost people to reach, and a Savior to follow down the winding road of days and years. When we finally turn into heaven’s driveway and see King Jesus waiting at the open door, the long drive won’t seem so long at all.

  By God’s grace, let’s choose to trust Him and not be like spoiled children. Let’s be like Abraham and the heroes and heroines in Hebrews 11, not like those whiners in the desert who brought distress to their leaders, and grief and anger to their God. We enjoy the journey “by faith,” when we trust Him. If the journey is frustrating you, that’s a good indication that you need to grow in faith.