Somewhere between where you are, and where you are going, is a stretch of road that takes you there. For no other reason, other than if it wasn't there, someone would invent it, it serves its purpose, to take you where you are going along the way. An along the way route, but not a destination. For me, this road is I-40 between Albuquerque and the Oklahoma state line. 400 miles of an are we there yet, that seems to add two miles to each mile ridden. A stretch of road, so non-descript even the Route 66 memories it by-passes are better off forgotten. A road of constant wind-never a tail wind, and bitter cold in winter, and temperatures above 100 all other times.
On our recent I-40 experience, we had planned to stop at the Blake's Lot a Burger in Tucumcari. Tucumcari, which used to be an oasis for weary travelers up until the opening of I-40 which by-passed it altogether, now is a living museum, on life support, to what Route 66 travel was like in the fifties and sixties. Still lined with old motels, advertising American owned, they promise clean rooms for less than $30, except at the iconic Blue Swallow Motel, which for $50/single, will give you a good nights rest, in a clean room, just like your parents would have 50 years ago. Only the murals of James Dean and Brando, who both have nothing to do with Route 66 lore, but do for bikers, remind you of its tourist status. And that its greatest days are long forgotten. And how this time, because of fires in southern New Mexico, the power was out for almost 200 miles along the road-and if we hadn't wanted a burger never would have noticed.
Stopping at possibly one of the last remaining Stuckeys, the owner, wearing a large cowboy hat, and belt buckle with long horns, told us of how it hadn't rained since November, more than six months. Cattle dying and the wind blowing hadn't stopped the tourists from stopping there, as he had an unending supply of shot glasses, rugs, hats, and other priceless memorabilia to remind the traveler of his visit to Texas. Which always reminds me of going to Cancun with Winzer, and how when we returned how Ed Mance's carry on luggage were two over sized sombreros. Cheap, gaudy, and overpriced mementos still rule today.
Why they call it Amarillo, Spanish for yellow, no one knows. But from the aluminum palm trees, to the free 72 oz. steak at the Texan-it must be eaten in an hour, the road still calls. And as Andrew and I ate there one night-food was reasonable, we watched as the packed room-sitting cafeteria style applauded when the latest victim of to much cow and not enough time threw up-he had come within ten minutes of free food. I guess you really had to be there.
And finally Shamrock, before you are greeted by the green, rolling hills of Oklahoma. It is hard to think of Oklahoma as a paradise, but after enduring the Panhandle of Texas, anything looks good. And from the huge Texas rest stops, complete with tornado rooms, to stopping in Shamrock to see the U Drop Inn, made famous on CARS, endurance can now be added to your resume of travel. With the other memory of Shamrock looking for a huge motel you can see from the road, but can't get too, unless you know the back roads to it. And despite the temps of 110, winds of over 30mph, from the south, and the fear of dying along the road, and no one ever finding you, we had endured I-40 again. And no one really seems to care-unless you have done it.
But like the road of life, along the way God gives us hope. Hope along this stretch of road, is not the Cadillac Ranch, where some artists years ago buried Cadillacs from the fifties in the ground, nose first. And where tourists flock to today to spray with graffiti. It is found thirty miles east of Amarillo, in Groom. The world's largest cross, it stands 200' tall, but due to the twist in the road, is only visible when you are almost upon it. But the cross, like in life, is only the drawing card, for the story of Jesus is told via lifelike metal statues, some too lifelike, that tell the story of His crucifixion better than any show I've ever seen. From His trial before Pilate, to the empty tomb, you see the lifelike story. And get to know Jesus personally through it. As you watch the soldiers throwing lots for His clothes, as you watch the nine inch nails hammered into His wrists, and then hanging on a cross, the hopelessness of the road is brought into light, and you are shown hope in Jesus. The final station, the empty tomb, was what gets me-just the burial clothes, and head covering piled neatly, with the angel sitting there, telling the traveler, "He isn't here, He is risen like He said."
Today your road may seem hopeless, your I-40 endless with no hope. Jesus is there to greet you, just like He did Saul, on the Damascus Road. To change your life, to make you a Paul, to give your life value. To meet you right where you are, and take you into His heart-just like you are. And that call is as fresh and new as it was 2000 years ago-but it is up to you to answer. Your final exam in life, and the question is, "who do you say Jesus is?" Notice is, not was. And like Peter answered correctly, "though art the Christ" is the only way to heaven.
And if you think I-40 is hell, you have another thing coming. I ask you to please never find out. Trust God. Accept Jesus. He doesn't promise to take you off I-40, but to ride with you, and help you endure. To fill in all the empty miles with a travel partner. And a best friend who sticks with you even when the roads aren't so tough.
400 miles isn't much when judged by eternity, it may just seem like it. Along the road of life He is just waiting for you. Just look for the empty cross, for just like His tomb, it reminds you that He is risen! And that you can be too.
love with compassion,
Mike
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