This entry took place almost exactly 17 years ago (just two days off).
It had finally arrived. February of 2002 was here, and the Winter Olympics had finally begun. My college roommate and I had been working on a plot to head out to see some of the Olympics in Utah for about a year and a half, and now everyone in our house was watching the opening ceremonies on TV.
All the gear was bought and (mostly) tested. We had our tickets in hand. The numerous little pieces were all falling into place, and in a week or so we would embark on a great adventure.
We made final preparations for the trip and filled our professors in on what we were about to do. We checked and re-checked details about the trip. In those last days before heading out, we watched all kinds of Olympic coverage; it didn’t matter what was on. The guys in our house, getting into the spirit of things, would even watch Curling, which none of us understood. (“YES! Wait…so was that good or bad?”)
As our departure date drew near, we assembled all our gear, packing and re-packing it to see how to maximize use of the space we had. Some of our stuff would be nice to have, but if we couldn’t fit it, it wasn’t going with us.
The day finally arrived. We loaded up my little car with all of the supplies we were bringing. There was barely room for the two of us to fit. We left before dawn.
The initial drive took us from Western New York State to Pittsburgh, where we switched to a larger rental car. From there it was pretty much a straight shot out West along Route 80 to Salt Lake City. We were excited. This was really happening; we were really doing this!
Twelve hours later, we were bored out of our minds.
It was over 2,000 miles and more than 30 hours of driving to our destination. America is a beautiful place, but it’s kinda drab in February. Ohio wasn’t much to look at. Indiana wasn’t much different. It got dark when we were somewhere in Illinois, and we weren’t going to stop for another few hours. We kept going until we hit Iowa after 16 hours of driving on day one, where we eventually found a rest stop and slept in the car overnight.
The excitement had worn off. A day that began with such immense promise and electricity became dull and mundane. All the different radio stations seemed to play the same songs. There wasn’t much scenery to enjoy as we drove. You didn’t need to eat much if all you did was sit in a car all day. We snacked on stuff, but it was as much for having something to do as it was for being hungry. The highlight of the drive that first day was stopping at a Wendy’s for dinner. “Will that be for the dining room, or would you like it to go?”
“NO! The dining room, please!“
The Christian life can be exciting. When you see yourself being used to fulfill God’s purposes, there’s nothing quite like it. It’s thrilling to go on missions trips, start learning about a Bible study topic that hits close to home, read a book about a subject you’ve been wanting to learn more about, or go so far as to start a new project or effort that’s been tugging at your heart. There are going to be times in those journeys, though, where it gets dull, boring, or even becomes downright drudgery.
In a previous post I includede the phrase “go until you get a no.” The drudgery isn’t a “no,” it’s just a way for you to get worn down and an excuse for you to give up. If you give up on a herculean effort because you lose interest or get discouraged, you’re not giving God the opportunity to move mountains. God’s sense of timing tends to be different from our own. If you felt sure that He called you to take on a task, and you went so far as to get started on it, shouldn’t you see it through? Shouldn’t you go until you get a “no?”
Hang in there at least a little longer. God has a way of showing up at just the right time.
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