A
few summers ago Ann and I went on what would become the driving adventure of
all time. On this trip we were going to spend a couple days in Las Vegas, then
visit some friends in Santa Rosa before coming home. We had the whole trip
planned out; even making sure we printed the maps we would need before going on
this road trip.
This
trip was maybe 12 years ago, and printing a map from the internet was really
the best and most up-to-date way to get directions. The version we’ve all come
to know and love, the one which today appears on our smart phones at the touch
of a screen, didn’t exist yet. As Ann and I would soon find out, the lack of
better technology would turn out to be what makes this particular trip probably
one of our best.
We
took our trip during July, which is when we usually take our trips, and spent
the first 3 or 4 days with family in Vegas. That in itself was a great part of
our vacation, walking the strip from Mandalay bay to The Cal. We ducked in and
of the hotel lobbies to see their great designs, marveling in the fresh
flowers, titan-like statues, and overhead skies which were projected onto the
lobby ceilings.
We
stopped to eat lunch and dinner, spent a few moments in casinos – honestly, a
few moments – and when night fell we found our way back to Ann’s sister’s house
to sleep until the next day when it all started again.
At
the end of that stay, we rented a car which would take us from Las Vegas,
Nevada to Santa Rosa, California. We had decided before the vacation that we
didn’t want to drive on the main highways and freeways when we traveled between
Nevada and California. So we mapped a path using highway 15 to get out of
Nevada, which would take us south and eventually west, connecting us with other
highways until we reached the 101, which we would take us north along the
California coast to Santa Rosa.
The
map which we used said it would take half a day to get to our destination, so
instead of driving that far and for that long in one day, we decided to turn it
into a two-day adventure. That would give us time to stop at various places
along the way, even if some of those places would be unplanned. I’ll admit that
we were a little nervous about the road trip, maybe a bit
worried as well, as this was the first time either of us had attempted
something like this before.
The
adventure started out good, albeit a little frightening. The first point on our
map we needed to cross once we got out of Nevada was somewhere called the
Mountain Pass, which for those of us who have never traveled to someplace like
this, is exactly what it sounds like. I vividly remember the highway
straightening out and there ahead of us, at what looked like the end of the
road, were two mountains, one on each side of the path we were on.
To
make things a little more worrisome, hovering over this mountain pass were very
dark clouds from which sparks of lightening could be seen. We were literally
driving into a thunder storm and there was no way to get around it without
turning back. We drove on, knowing that God was with us, and that we had each
other.
Of
course, being island people we had no idea how far that pass really was, and by
the time we reached it the storm had moved on and the skies above our path were
clear.
A
few hours later we began getting hungry and we came across a truck stop in
Yuma, California called Peggy Sues. We stopped to eat there, enjoying the
diner’s 50’s and 60’s atmosphere and memorabilia, which featured posters from
old movies such as King Kong and Gone with the Wind, life-size celebrity
figures of Elvis and The Blues Brothers, and even a whole section devoted to
Betty Boop.
We
moved along, deciding to stop in the first town we came to that had a Hotel 6.
We found one, but unfortunately the Motel 6 had no occupancies so we stayed at
another motel; one which I would rather not stir any real memories of. Let’s
just say it gave us a place to rest for the night and for that we were thankful.
The
next day began with a breakfast so large, eaten at a diner so greasy, that the
meal we had lasted well past lunch. Which was a good thing because our trip was
about to take a turn we had not planned for. Somewhere along the way that
morning we took a right turn when we should have turned left. Instead of
finding our way west to the famous 101, we found ourselves wandering in the
deserts of California.
Wandering
is a good word for what we were doing because we had no idea where we were, nor
did we have any idea on how to get back on track. We were lost. We decided that
it would be best if we kept going straight on whatever road we were until we
reached someplace where someone could give us directions back.
We
literally traveled for hours not seeing anything which resembled a gas station
or convenience store. There was no post office or police station, nothing at
where we could stop and ask for help. The feeling of being alone began to mix
with the feeling of being lost.
We
had no idea where we were, until we saw a sign that read, “Jawbone Museum”.
Apparently we were in a place called Jawbone, California which was famous
enough to have a museum. What excited us more about there being a Jawbone
Museum, though, was that there had to be someone inside that museum that could
help us find our way back. It’s too bad they were closed.
We
were once again lost and alone.
We
left Jawbone, heading in the same direction along that single road through the
desert. We traveled until we passed through a place called Red Rock Canyon,
which I will admit was a very beautiful place, especially as the sun was
beginning to fall in the west, shining its rays directly into the canyon and
highlighting the red clay rock for which it was named.
On
the one hand I fully appreciated the beauty of God’s creation, and on the other
I wished there was a convenience store or gas station or something, anything
that had a person we could talk to in that God-forsaken place.
I
can’t tell you how much further, or longer, we drove. There actually came a
point where we regretted making the decision to keep going until we would find
someone to help us. We were in that place known as the point of no return. We
started the day with a full tank of gas, and now had somewhere between a
quarter tank and a half tank. Even if we wanted to turn back we couldn’t for
fear of running the tank dry and really being lost and alone.
Then,
when all hope had almost escaped from us we came across a little town at the
top of a hill. I don’t think we were ever so happy to see civilization as we
were in that moment. As we kept driving we saw what we were searching for along
this lonely, barren path – a gas station. Not only was it a gas station, but it
was open and had a person in it.
We
exclaimed, “There is a God!”
We
pulled into the station to put gas in our rental car. While there we took the
opportunity to use the restroom and ask for directions. “Where are you trying
to get to?” the nice young lady asked.
“Santa
Rosa”, we replied.
I
will never forget the look on this young girl’s face. She was bewildered. “How
did you get here?” she inquired.
“We
don’t know.” was all we could answer.
“Well”,
she said, “You can’t get to Santa Rosa from here, there’s no road that’ll take
you west across the state from here. You’ll have to go back the way you came
until you find highway 58, which will take you west into Bakersfield where you
can connect to the 5 and on your way north towards Santa Rosa.” Just the trip
to Bakersfield was about 200 to 300 miles, or another 4 or 5 hours back the way
we came.
So
we turned around, passed through Red Rock Canyon, which was even more beautiful
as the setting sun glowed against the west-facing canyon walls. We pushed through
Jawbone, laughing as we passed by that museum and we we soon came across
highway 58 where we turned towards a sign which pointed to Bakersfield.
We
were on our way.
We
eventually made it to our friend’s house in Santa Rosa, but not without getting
lost one more time on our way to the Golden Gate Bridge, somehow heading south
to San Jose instead.
Let
me tell you, that was one adventure. I’ll always remember that feeling of being
lost and scared. I’ll always remember how my stomach sank as the young lady
told us we couldn’t get to our destination. I’ll always remember passing
through a deep canyon as the skies darkened. I’ll also always remember what it
was like to finally get to our destination where good friends waited up for us
and put us at ease with fresh sheets on a warm bed, all given to us with
unconditional love and a deep understanding of what we had just gone through.
I
tell you this story because as I read today’s passage all I could think about
was how the travelers in the days of King Solomon might have felt alone and a
little worried as they traveled their paths from east to west or from south to
north. I’m certain the roads were filled with twists and turns, which could
have easily led the traveler astray.
I
imagine these travelers finally reaching their destination – weary, dirty from
the road, hungry and thirsty, and in much need of hospitality. Then I see their faces as they enter into
Solomon’s temple; a place filled with such beauty, a place so grand that all of
the worries and fears from their travels melt away as they find themselves
enveloped within the home which Solomon built for them.
Yes,
I said that Solomon built the temple for them; those weary travelers who need a
place to rest and recuperate before moving on to other destinations and
adventures.
Last
week we were present when Solomon prayed to God to give him the ability to
understand how best to make things “pono” for the people which God placed in
his protection. This week we listen as Solomon makes an altogether different
kind of prayer, one that is more inclusive of just “a great people of a great
nation.”
Solomon
admits to God that there is no way God could possibly live on earth. He claims
with absolute truth that “If heaven, even the highest heaven, can’t contain
you, how can this temple that I’ve built contain you?” So instead of dedicating
the temple to God, he dedicates the temple to the immigrant, the foreigner, the
weary traveler. Solomon dedicates the temple to all who need a place of refuge
and a place to find healing.
Then
Solomon makes this request; that all who enter this temple will come to know
God because the immigrant, the outsider, will be heard by God as they ask for
rest for their body and restitution of their souls. The temple which Solomon
built is a place for all people to come to know God and for God to know all
people. Solomon’s hope is that the temple becomes a place where that
relationship between God and people can be made stronger.
Such
should be our churches today, don’t you think?
Some
churches make the mistake of thinking that God lives within their four walls,
that the only way to meet God is to come visit God in their building. The truth
is that God is everywhere. Solomon
reminds us that there is no place on earth that can hold God, and the best way
to get to know God is to call out to God and to spend some time with God.
Our
churches, these buildings, really are for those who are weary and feeling lost
and alone. These buildings are for those who are considered outsiders and are
living on the fringes of society. These buildings are for us, those who are the
builders and caretakers of these walls, to be available to greet the tired,
weak, and broken and welcome them into a new life – one filled with the
knowledge that there is a God who travels with them and is waiting up for them
to arrive so they can lay their weary bodies and souls onto a warm bed and rest
under fresh sheets; regardless of who they are or from where they travel.
God
is with us all. Amen.
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