Today after church we began our annual road trip to "Oregon"... We always say that but really it's initially a road trip to Redding, CA where my sister lives. Eventually we get to Oregon.
In the past, I'd wake the kids early in the morning, load them in the car, and we make it closer to Sacramento before stopping for the night. But since we didn't get on the road till about noon, after church, I decided to stop for the night in Thousand Oaks, CA.
I like Thousand Oaks. Everything grows here! Only the Santa Monica Mountains separate us from the Pacific Ocean. I wanted to go to the beach tonight but I'm just toast. Working night shift Friday night and then getting up early this morning has my body pretty fatigued. I plan to go to the beach either in the morning with the boys or on the way back home to AZ on Thursday.
I love road trips! There's just something about the open road. I guess I like the feeling that I'm going somewhere. Sometimes life feels like you're going nowhere. When you're on the road, you're going somewhere.
I'm glad I stayed for church this morning. I needed to get my compass pointed the right direction before I hit the road. It's hard to hear the preacher preach on a subject that is a specific point of sin in your own life. As I listened today, I wondered if this is how folks feel when they hear a sermon on divorce after they've gone through one- or more- themselves. It's hard, but it's good.
I'm confident not a single person who's gone through a divorce would hear a sermon on what God has joined together let no one separate and be opposed to what they heard. They, in fact, would probably be the first to stand up and say, "Amen!" They know the pain themselves. They know the damage. They know God hates divorce. They know... they hate it too. The same goes for the woman, who married an unbelieving man, who listens to the pastor preach from Ezra 9 and 2 Corinthians 6. Amen! The damage is extensive. There is no fellowship. The heart is drawn away from God, and then, when won back (if won back), is faced with the heartache of being separate in what God designed to be joined together.
During the sermon my oldest son looked over at me with a, "You're busted," look on his face. He knows. He grieves. He feels the ripping apart that comes with living with unequally yoked parents. Even though I hate it for my kids, I pray that the mercy and grace of my good God will use the pain they experience now to prevent them from going down the same path and cause them to love God's ways, which are good. All the time.
We'll talk about it tonight before we go to sleep. Which is in about 30 minutes. Time to sign off.