It seems like a long time since my last entry. I am now back in Houston and able to write again. It is certainly a strange feeling for me to be disconnected from the digital universe, the e-world, for such a long time. I need to collect my thoughts in a more thorough way in the days to come, but I felt I needed to put something down and share it before I get into the longer chronicle of this trip.
When I initially departed from Houston, I picked up the Voice translation of the Gospel according to Luke. One of the things that immediately struck me was the quote from Luke 10:4 "Do not take a purse or bag or sandals" which stood in great contrast with they way I was traveling. Not only was I carrying me regular stuff with me, but I was also carrying over 40 pounds of stuff for the ride back home. This included, besides my helmet, gloves, jacket and boots, all sorts of tools, cable ties, tape, flat kit, and gps. While on the ride back I really wondered, "If something happens here, I may be able to fix a flat, but anything else?" I was really weighing down my ride, but there was some level of comfort in having all that with me. But I try to think about the way I conduct my life, always loading up on things, just in case, when at the end of the day, God will care for us more lovingly than He cares for the birds and the flowers (Luke 12:22-34). There is still a long way for me to go, in order to absorb all this into my life, and find the discernment necessary to differentiate between putting my trust in God's grace, and using the judgment and reasoning skills that He gave me to appropriately set up and prepare for an event.
Throughout the trip, I was able to contemplate the magnificence of God's continuing work, and, on a daily basis was spared the constant and menacing rains that had been plaguing the areas that I was traveling through. As planned, my first stop was at Garden of the Gods, in Colorado Springs. There I had time to take a quick breakfast and to read more of Luke's Gospel. During this meditation time, I was struck by the story of Zaccheous. Not only did I wonder how he had made it through first grade knowing how to spell his name, but I was also made to think how often I have failed to climb up a tree to talk to Jesus, especially when He is passing by every moment of my life.