As I was contemplating what to write about this week, my mind kept drifting back to the Fourth of July. I don’t usually do anything special for the Fourth. In fact, last year I was in Nicaragua. How unpatriotic. However, a few years ago I had an interesting experience on the Fourth of July that continues to have a profound impact on me even today. My cousin Tim was in the Army at the time, and was about to ship out to Iraq. So, my dad’s side of the family decided to have a little get-together, as Tim was home on leave for a couple of weeks. I didn’t think that I would be able to make it because of my responsibilities at the summer camp where I worked, so I didn’t even bother to ask. Plus, it would have been about a six-hour drive from Austin to Wichita Falls, Texas, and I would have had to turn around and come right back the same day. However, as I was talking to my sister the night before, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least ask my boss. He said “yes”.

The next thing I know, I’m in my car driving to Wichita Falls, and nobody in my family knows I’m coming. That made it even more fun. I am so glad that I was able to go, because it was great to see everybody. There was swimming, ping-pong, burgers, soda, and lots of laughing. But as wonderful as it was to get to see my parents and sister, aunts and uncles, cousins and grandparents, I am writing about something else that happened that day. I really think that the reason I was able to make the trip was not so that I could see my family. Something very interesting happened that leads me to believe that my little road trip was more of a divine appointment.

The route that I chose to take goes right by, although not actually through, Dublin, Texas. For those who don’t know, Dublin is the home of the best tasting Dr Pepper known to man because they use Imperial Sugar, as opposed to saccharin (I guess). The point is, it’s worth stopping for, and they only sell it with any regularity within a 30-mile radius of Dublin. Stephenville is within that perimeter, so when I hit the city limit sign, I pull over at the first gas station I see to have a little slice of heaven.

As I am going into the gas station, I notice a guy and a girl packing backpacks as if they are about to leave for a hike. I really didn’t think much of it at this point, because all I could think about was the sweet, fizzly goodness of which I was about to partake. As I got back into my car and began my journey again, however, I saw them walking along the road, and the guy had his thumb in the air. I immediately felt something deep down inside telling me to give them a ride, but I didn’t listen and just kept on driving. I even turned my music up a little bit to help me stop thinking about it. It made me uncomfortable, but it wouldn’t go away. I had the distinct feeling that I would be letting someone down if I just kept going. Then I told myself that I really did need to keep going, so I could get there on time; but nobody was expecting me. I was running out of excuses.

So finally, about six or seven miles down the road, I turn around to go and find them. I’m still trying to talk myself out of it the whole time, but I saw them before I could convince myself otherwise. Maybe they only need to get to the next town, right? That wouldn’t be so bad. Well, that was not the case. They were trying to get to Colorado, and would go as far as I was willing to take them. So here we go. I tell them I am going to Wichita Falls, and they say, “Great!” and off we go. They don’t smell very good, and I kind of feel guilty that I don’t have any more Dr Pepper to offer them. It didn’t really matter, though, because the girl was so excited that I had a CD player, and asked if she could put in one of her CDs. They tell me their names are Mark and Paula, and as we talk they begin to tell me their story. They had recently been married, and had journeyed all the way from Oregon to Texas so that Mark could ask Paula’s father for her hand in marriage. Although it sounded like a long trip to make without any means of transportation, it was obvious that Paula felt very romanced by the whole notion, and the couple was very much in love. Now they were heading to Colorado to find Paula’s sister, and I was taking them much further than they had expected to get that week. I found out that Mark fought in Desert Storm, and that Paula’s favorite band is Staind. They told me that they are going to write a book about their adventures, and I would have an entire chapter dedicated to me.

Then our conversation turned towards religion: Paula practiced Wicca, and Mark was all about Karma. I had never met anyone that practiced Wicca, but it sounded like she was more of a casual practitioner. Mark’s views were a hodgepodge of various religious philosophies, with no real coherence. So I asked them what they thought about the person of Jesus Christ, and the Bible. They had both had bad experiences with churches, and it was very evident as we discussed this topic. The pastor of Mark’s church when he was a child had embezzled money from the church treasury, and Paula had always felt judged by Christians. It seemed that most of the Christians they had come into contact with were not very Christ-like at all.

That thought breaks my heart and scares me to death, all at the same time. It saddens me because I know that there are probably millions of people who have somehow been hurt, and consequently pushed away, by the actions of someone claiming to be a Christian. It frightens me because I know that I have been that person before. I wanted so badly for Mark and Paula to be able to see what I see, and feel what I feel. I wanted them to experience the joy and the peace that I know. But I also realize that there is nothing that I could have said that would have changed their minds. I can’t come up with some deep, philosophical thought that will cause them to say, “Oh my gosh, Nic, you are so right!” I’m not that smart or insightful. All that I can do is love people the way that Christ did. So now I pray for Mark and Paula. I prayed that they would make it to Colorado and find Paula’s sister. I continue to pray that the Lord reveals Himself to them, and that they find truth.

As I pray, I wonder why I don’t do this more often. Many times I have opted not to talk to that person sitting next to me in class, or standing in line in front of me at the grocery store. What am I so afraid of? Maybe not having the right answers, maybe seeming fanatical. For the most part, I just don’t want to get myself into an uncomfortable situation, kind of like the thought of picking up two random people in a small west Texas town. I worry about my own comfort level a little too much when I should be loving others. I have already proven that I don’t have all of the right answers and let’s face it, Jesus himself was a fanatic. He fanatically reached out to and loved those that the world despised and rejected, which is something I wish I did a little more often. So the next time I feel myself getting comfortable in my faith, I think I’ll take a little road trip, and see what happens.

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