Faith and False Advertising

Many years ago, back when my sisters and I were backseat warriors in the family car, just hearing that we were approaching a highway rest stop was encouraging music to my young ears. It hinted of fresh entertainment and a possible reprieve from various levels of torture. For starters there was the constant harassment I suffered as the baby of the family. If I wasn’t being hassled over my corrective shoes and hoot owl glasses, I was being teased about my speech impediment and pronounced lisp. My discomfort was usually magnified by Papa’s reluctance to even consider a pit stop without documentation from Mama that our eyeballs were officially floating.

If it happened to be summer time, there was also the chance that we were traveling with a caravan of our neighbors and their children. That’s how we did vacations back in the day. Come one, come all. I reckon the last one left in the community turned the lights out. If and when the adults pulled over, it was game on! We kids treated a rest stop like our personal amusement park. Poor Mama, getting us back in the car must’ve been like herding cats.

It’s sad to see how many Interstate rest stops are closing these days, if not already closed. I hate them being torn down, but seeing ‘em barricaded off and boarded up is even worse. For me, the empty buildings are like failed promises to weary travelers.

I see an analogy here that’s painful to draw, but begs to be considered. The Bible teaches
that as Christ’s followers we’re each meant to be a refreshing oasis for travelers in a dry and barren land. And we can be — if we live on, and are sustained by, Jesus Himself. Sadly, however, our loudest profession of faith can become little more than a forgotten road sign, signaling rest areas in various stages of decay, unless we have a steady infusion of His fellowship. We have a choice. I want to be a rest stop, spit-shined by Jesus and well-stocked by His word. What about you?

Hugs,
Shellie