Last month I took off on a journey that I had dreamed about for the better part of one year, ever since I received an invitation to speak at a church in the eastern Pennsylvania town of Chambersburg.
Chambersburg just happens to be up the road from a small village that for three days in 1863 became the epicenter of American history: Gettysburg. More than a decade ago I had explored what Abraham Lincoln had called “this hallowed ground,” slowly traversing such legendary sites as the Peach Orchard, Devil’s Den, and Little Round Top. Now I had the chance to fly early to the state capital of Harrisburg, rent a car, drive down the road on a beautiful October day, and spend at least six more hours in and around the famous battleground.
It’s hard to overstate how exhilarated I felt as I buckled myself into my airplane seat. Then, quite without warning, I remembered something. It was something overwhelmingly important. My driver’s license was expired. One part of my brain actually knew that. That’s why I had brought a separate picture ID to board the plane. But how could I have forgotten that you need a driver’s license to rent a car?
I felt like a moose that had wandered into Sarah Palin’s yard. This was not going to turn out well.
We landed in Harrisburg. Maybe the guy at the rental counter wouldn’t notice that my license was expired. “Um, Mr. McDonald, we have a problem here.” Certainly he would make an exception in my case – you know, because he would recognize that I’m such an amazingly nice guy. “I’m sorry, sir, but no one in the state of Pennsylvania will rent you a car without an license.” Maybe he would break the rules and risk his own job and a couple of nights in jail because I was now stranded an hour away from Chambersburg, and I so deserved that extra adventure in Gettysburg. “My suggestion is that you try to find some form of public transportation.”
My heart sank. My mind simultaneously descended into a bit of irrational darkness. Who’s responsible for this? Someone should have to pay for such a grave disappointment. Who could I scapegoat? Who could I blame? The truth was both stark and obvious, of course. One and only one person was responsible. I had subverted my own long-awaited trip by failing to be prepared.
In the end I took a cab, which wasn’t exactly the way I had pictured this mid-autumn excursion. It cost a mere $139 for a one-way trip to beautiful downtown Chambersburg. Ouch.
As a pastor I routinely have the opportunity to hear people’s dreams about their own lives. They want to know God. They want to please God. Followers of Jesus yearn to embark on history-changing journeys of radical faith. They will step out of their comfort zones, bind up the broken-hearted, confront systemic evil, and stand tall for the truth. These are beautiful dreams, and they never fail to move me.
But they seldom come true. That’s because something is often wrong from the get-go. These earnest men and women aren’t prepared for a life of radical trust in God because they have failed to give themselves to the God they so want to serve.
I’d love to be more patient. I’d like to be as patient as Jesus, as a matter of fact. But that won’t happen “in the moment,” when extraordinary patience is actually required, just because I intend to be a person of exceptional forbearance. Long before that moment I will have to have spent much time in God’s presence, gradually allowing God’s character to supplant my own.
The same thing is true with regard to humility. And having the power to extend forgiveness. And being able to relinquish control to God in the midst of chaos or uncertainty. Long before the challenging moment arrives, I will have to have practiced surrendering control to the Lord as an actual way of life. In other words, I will need to be spiritually prepared.
Otherwise I will find myself saying (or praying), “Why is this happening to me? Where are all those blessings that were supposed to come my way because I am following Christ? Who is responsible for this?” Well, that would be me. I cannot experience a transforming journey with God if I have failed to undertake – with all my heart, mind, soul, and strength – the essential preparation that is required for that journey.
Take it from a guy who has seen rural Pennsylvania from the back seat of a cab. There’s a real price to pay to be prepared. But it’s worth it.
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