Over the years, multitudes had followed the road out of the lowlands, up the steep grades onto the bleak plateau. There, the travelers had rested, then settled and lived out their lives. Only a few had braved the forbidding mountains. Those few, though, had described the exertion as “trivial, unworthy of comparison” with the spectacular panorama they viewed from the high lookouts. Some of these mountain climbers had passed through my life, carrying with them a whiff of the heavenlies, an enviable aura of spiritual strength. But these saints had also related accounts of great conflict and carried battle scars.
After several years of working to further God’s kingdom I found myself living on the bleak plateau. Evangelical cliches swirled around me, grated against my intellect. Perhaps showers still fell on some Christians, but like a thick sheet of plastic, disilusionment and doubts about the church and Christians hovered over my life, repelled the blessings, and left my soul parched.
Furthermore, I harbored a secret mistrust of God. Did God want what was best for me or was I an expendable agent who would be sacrificed to further some Master Plan? I wanted to live on the Road, but did I want to take God’s Road when I knew it would inevitably lead into the mountains?
As I sat one evening contemplating the future direction of my life, God confronted me with, “Will you still take My Road?” It seemed, that night, that security, rest, contentment, and happiness glowed from the high plateau. The question came again, “Will you still take My Road?”
I looked long and hard at the Road. It was a “service” Road. Unadorned by flashing promises, it stretched before me. I saw no signs of material security, no houses, no assurance of friends to accompany me, no personal plans for my life, no relief from my nomad lifestyle. God made no promises or apologies. It was simply God’s Road. I could travel it or ignore it. I did not answer quickly, but finally, cognizant of all that my answer implied, I replied. “I’ll take Your Road, Lord.” And then more firmly I repeated my vow, “I will still take Your Road.”
As reported, violent storms batter the mountains, but when I think they will sweep me off a precipice, God tucks me into a crevice and Hand-seals the gap. In the post-storm calm, God moves on, keeping my shelter protected until almost passing from view around the next turn. Then the Hand-shield drops and for an instant I glimpse God’s glory. And the hope of getting a better view, pulls me like a magnet, out of the shelter and on up the mountain.
(Excerpts from “The Road” by Martha VanCise;Published Light & Life)