The Philistine Camp

When I travel back to see my family in Nebraska there are a couple of different routes I can take. I can make it in a little over five hours if I head east down Interstate 90, exit at Murdo, SD, and head south; passing through the Rosebud Indian Reservation. I have taken this route many times because it is the quickest, but it’s not the one I prefer. There is one town I pass through, on this route, that if I didn’t need my sight to drive, I would gladly close my eyes and pretend it didn’t exist. Except for a newer gas station on the west end of town and a decent school on the east end of town, most of the buildings are shoddy and uncared for. Many lack paint and some windows are not windows at all, but plywood barriers cut to fit. This isn’t what bothers me the most, though. It’s the hunched shoulders, the downcast eyes, and the purposeless walk of the individuals I see as I drive through.

I much prefer to take the longer route through western South Dakota and Nebraska. On this route I notice that folks commonly wave, even to strangers. When I stop for a break in Chadron, NE the folks I meet on the street make direct eye contact and often offer a “hello.” When traveling Highway 20, this time of year, I enjoy the endless hills of growing grasses, the deep greens of the meadows along the streams and rivers, and the budding of deciduous trees close to the roadway.  Most of all though, it’s the newborn calves, romping and playing on the other side of the fences, or maybe lying in a warm spot of dandelions that makes me smile. Some of the calves will be kicking up their heels in the bright sunshine; the attentive mothers always close by and watching. Some will be pushing aggressively at their mothers’ udders with a ring of foamy milk encircling their mouths. Maybe I will even see a calf – so new – that it’s struggling to stand on its sea legs and reach for its first drink.

Just as there are different roads to take me home, there are different roads to experience in life. When I have the time, I am content to take the longer one home because it’s the more scenic and pleasant, but most often we favor the shortest routes. We tell ourselves that if we can save time, that’s what we should do. That is why McDonalds alone sells an average of 75 hamburgers every second. Yes, every second!

We may live in the “fast food” age, but the idea of getting somewhere via the shortest route isn’t anything new. The Israelites, thousands of years ago, couldn’t understand why God didn’t guide them by way of the most direct route from Egypt to the Promised Land. We know now that He was detouring them  away from the hostile Philistines. If they had come upon these fierce people, they would have been filled with fear and likely would have hurried back to where they had come from; as dreadful as it was.

Many times, the road to reach our goals seem time consuming and filled with potholes.  We would like to order them up “fast food” style and have them met immediately. We have even been known to manipulate circumstances so our goals could be reached now instead of later.  But, often, it would do us good to take a lesson from the calf lying in the dandelions – to sit quietly and prayerfully, waiting on God’s perfect direction.

If the road to meet your goal seems never ending, don’t get discouraged. It just might be that you are being detoured around a Philistine camp.

Until next month, keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.