No Shortcuts

One January morning, soon after we had relocated to Bonita, California, I took my usual morning walk. Walking that morning was exhilarating—the air was cool and gently breezy, and the sun bright and warm. I crested the hill in our neighborhood and in the ambitiousness that can come with the downward side of a hill, I spontaneously crossed the street instead of turning left towards home.

Full of energy, I crossed into the undeveloped natural area—one of several that make living in Bonita so pleasant. I followed the path Shawn and I had traveled many other mornings together. I am not exactly terrible with directions, but I usually have to learn my way around any new city or town on my own and with a few detours to learn. This morning was apparently the time for one of those learning experiences.

Somewhere in the midst of the swaying palms, hovering hummingbirds and dusty path, I recklessly decided to take what appeared to be a shortcut home. It wasn’t too many minutes later that I realized that I did not have a clue about where I was. I pressed on, sure that each bend in the path would lead me to something that looked familiar. My pace quickened, and the air felt warmer. I pressed on and on and felt as if I were going in a circle. Perhaps I was!

My walk morphed into a jog as I realized I had left my phone at the house and that no one would ever think to look for me here. The quiet became oppressive as my ears strained to hear anything familiar—cars on the road, kids in the adjacent park—anything! With perspiration running into my eyes I jog/walked blindly down the path, silently praying that there weren’t any creeps hiding behind one of the numerous palm fronds. My heart leapt with every sneakered thud of my foot on the dusty ground.

After what felt like hours, but was probably closer to 25 minutes, I recognized something—a fence and a road! My joy quickly dissipated when I realized I was at the far side of the natural area. I would have to walk a long way back to the edge closest to the road home. Finding something familiar and realizing just how long the journey home would be for my now aching body, I started to cry. Not tears of sadness exactly. Tears of exhaustion mixed with relief melted into the perspiration and dust on my cheeks. My shoulders relaxed and I pressed on towards home, at a steady pace now, knowing the worst of the journey was behind me.

I had taken a detour just as the Israelites took a circuitous route through the desert so many years earlier. Their 11 day journey became a 40 year learning experience. God had a plan for the Israelites as He led them towards the promised land. Deuteronomy tells us about that plan.

"And you shall remember that the LORD your God led you all the way these forty years in the wilderness, to humble you and test you, to know what was in your heart, whether you would keep His commandments or not. "So He humbled you, allowed you to hunger, and fed you with manna which you did not know nor did your fathers know, that He might make you know that man shall not live by bread alone; but man lives by every word that proceeds from the mouth of the LORD.          - Deuteronomy 8:2-3

God sent His people in ancient times on a long journey with this three-fold purpose: to humble them, to test them, and to know their hearts. The Israelites emerged on the other side, miraculously, with clothes and shoes still intact, but with changed hearts. The long way home did humble them, it tested them, and it proved that their hearts weren’t perfect, but they were willing. They learned to live by every word that proceeded from the mouth of the Lord.

When Jesus was in the wilderness He remembered these verses in Deuteronomy and recited them for His tempter. Satan tried to humble Him who needed no humbling. Satan tested Jesus and He was triumphant. Satan pushed to see what was really in His heart—the enemy wanted to find darkness, but Jesus’ heart was only light. Jesus emerged victorious from His personal wilderness.

My extended walk that morning was also part of a wilderness experience, although I didn’t fully appreciate it at the time. The reason we were living in Bonita was because Shawn had just stepped down from a position God had called him to at a ministry he loved. Now, here we were at the beginning of a six-month journey. Shawn needed to heal and our family needed this time to talk to God about His plan for us. Why were we experiencing this pain? What did God want us to do next? We had a lot of questions, and needed more than a short-cut answer. In this wilderness, God humbled us, He tested us, and we learned what was truly in our own hearts.

My tears that morning were part of a long process of healing that took place during the coming six months. I didn’t see it that day, but the worst of that journey was already over. God loved me enough to send my family and me on a long detour, not a shortcut.