you are a stranger only once

 Listening to a man talk the other night about all his travels, it soon became apparent that although we had been to the same places, we had been to completely different places. After a few sentences it became apparent that his travel had been mostly for business, and a trip for him was a ride to the airport, a flight to another airport, renting a car, going to a nice hotel, and eating within the confines of it, or whatever places the desk clerk or concierge recommended. Strangely he had left home, but never gone anywhere. His peer group were all fellow travelers, and he never really got out and met the locals. He may have been to Illinois, to Chicago, but never was to Troy. If you think Denver is Colorado, you are wrong, try the western slope and see real Colorado. He had been to San Francisco, and even taken a taxi downtown, but most of his activities were based around airport motels. He was a business traveler, who complained his wife was overdue for a vacation, maybe he would take her to Vegas, or an extra day in Dallas, scheduled around his meetings. And the more he seemed to brag, I felt sorrier for him, he missed America, and didn't know it. He had seen the country from a first class seat on a 747, but never travelled first class among the people. He had been everywhere and nowhere, and with many free air miles to burn, would continue on his endless sojourn, never realizing he had never gone anywhere.

I always thought working in a motorcycle shop would be the best thing-all the bikes, discounts, and all the bikes. But as guys stopped in while out traveling, I became homesick for the road, for a motorcycle takes you places, away from airports, other tourists, and chain hotels and restaurants. Away from work, and all the things that you once thought were important. I missed the road. So I ride, a freedom that I continue to enjoy today. For some, a freeway exit instead of the name of a road. A step below this air traveler is those who frequent the interstates-never leaving home, with only an endless stream of homogenized motels and familiar restaurants to show for their travels. They may see America from the seat of a motorcycle, but they miss America.

I love this country, and all the small towns. I have had great meals at places called Mom's, and slept on great beds in locally owned motels. I have been given inside info on great roads, and had them call a friend if I needed a favor. Fellow travelers all, some just taking care of us who are passing through. Giving service that would rank them high in AAA, but owning or running businesses that AAA overlooks. The rating they are given is a better reference to me, it is one of the heart. Not of the wallet or airport visited. The only postcards you can have from these places are pictures you take yourself. And one night stands out, a hot summer night, among the cornfields of Illinois. A locally owned, older motor lodge, just blocks from the freeway, but decades away all the same. As we all sat in the humid evening on the porches, we could have been inside in the cool AC. But as the owner brought around cold lemonade, and pretzels and popcorn, and as we all sat and visited, the kids chased lightning bugs, and we all talked. Not of anything important, but just folks doing what folks do when they meet, we visited. And talked of our travels, and roads we took and places we ate. And sharing stories that others had told us, more impressed by their tales than any travel brochure that could entice us to travel. It was America, seen from a porch on an old glider on a hot night, not AAA rated-they don't have a high enough rating for places like these.

I watch people in church, as I do at other places. And you can tell those that are there, and those who are somewhere else. Or wish they were. Visiting the building, doing office work, day dreaming, or just passing the time until their next appointment. Singing the songs, but missing out on the worship. Hearing the scripture, but failing to meet the man who it is all about. For many church is just a religious hour on Sunday, a place to go so they don't feel guilty. But short change themselves, as they never get to spend time with Jesus. They fail to learn that He taught in the synagogues, but ministered out on the road. They think missions is going around the world, where it can really be just across town, or across the table. They see God through a denomination's eyes, never getting to know Jesus. They have been there, but have been nowhere, and don't get it. They are the weary traveler looking for the best AAA rated room, by-passing a warm welcome available to them. Been there, done that, even have the t-shirt to prove it-just never making the connection.

It is good to go to church, but it is of little value if your mind and heart are elsewhere. Just like the weary airport traveler, they become hardened rather than hearkened, missing the call of Jesus in their life, and missing out on great roads. Great times, and more to come. This Sunday try something different-just don't attend church, spend time with Jesus. Sing the songs to God, and let the words have meaning. Take your Bible, and turn to where the pastor is teaching. Let it take you other places, and make you look forward to the next service. Don't rush out after, meet those around you, let them be an encouragement to you-so you too can be one someday.

Next weekend take a trip on back roads, eat at local places, and stop and see small towns. Destination-wherever the road takes you. Walk the sidewalks instead of the malls, which after walking them to rehab, it doesn't matter where you are, they are all the same. And all inside, too. Get out and see life, roll down the windows and smell the cows-if you must be in a car. Turn off the radio, and turn on your other senses-and let God fill your day with pleasant memories. Chat with the waitress, and learn about the area. All it takes is the first step...your choice. How far you go and what you see is up to you...the same with your relationship with Christ. So many roads, so little time...and yes, so much more of Jesus to experience them with. Start living...the road you are on just got more interesting. For life is more than a freeway exit-it can be a road you never want to get off!

love with compassion,

Mike

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