Our family recently traveled through the Southwest, and I’m officially a big fan.  We embarked on a ten-day road trip, stopping at some pretty spectacular geological landmarks. We also consumed enough continental breakfast pastries to last a lifetime.

Four states, 2,600 miles, nine hotel stays, and some triple-digit temps. It was an awesome experience.

We returned last week with tanned legs and hundreds of pictures on our camera rolls. Our girls are 15 and 17 now, and this time with them was such a gift. We engaged in meaningful conversation, became intimately familiar with their Spotify playlists, and burned through 342 rolls of fruit-flavored Mentos.

During one particularly long and exhausting stretch of driving, we reached a state of delirium. As a result, we cackled like 6 year olds when we drove past a ski resort with an unfortunate name that has become a new family joke.

Sipapu, I’m looking at you.

Three days into the trip we drove through Monument Valley, UT. To say it was hot is understatement. I’ve baked casseroles at lower temperatures.

Can you believe something so beautiful can be so terrifying at the same time? 

Not a cloud in the sky. Not a tree in sight. No hope for shade or relief from the heat. How can anything survive in this desert environment? I began wondering what would happen if our car broke down or we got a flat tire. 

There’s a sort of reverence that comes with picturing yourself alone in the desert. You quickly realize that you have little control over the elements. Thankfully, we had the foresight to buy large jugs of water at Wal-Mart the night before. I felt better knowing they were in the back of the car in case of an emergency.

Still, I began to worst-case-scenario the situation. Wondering if the questionable breakfast sausage that accompanied the pastries would sustain us, I took a mental inventory of the road trip snacks we had in the back of the car. I concluded we could surely survive on Oreos, fruit snacks, pistachios, and Milano cookies.

We turned off the road for a short scenic detour and got out of the car to take a picture. We had to make it quick because the soles of our shoes began to liquefy. I gazed out the window noticing heat waves rising from the road. It appeared we were driving through a life sized pizza oven. 

I concluded that the desert was beautiful, but oddly terrifying.

We drove quietly for several miles, each of us consumed by the entertainment blasting through our headphones.

Suddenly, my daughter broke the silence from the backseat. She asked, “What is that!?” My head snapped up from scrolling on my phone to see a large animal lying on the side of the road. 

Within seconds, we realized it wasn’t an animal, but a man.

My husband slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt on the shoulder, just past where the man was lying. He was curled up in the fetal position on the shoulder of the highway, inches from the solid white line. 

Dozens of cars had surely passed him. We had no way of knowing how long he had been there or where he had even come from. 

My husband threw the car into park and ran over to the man, simultaneously flagging down another car and yelling, “Sir! Sir, are you ok?!” He knelt down, unsure of what condition he would find this human in. 

The man lifted his head and began trying to push himself off the ground. It was immediately clear that something was not right. One side of his face was sagging a bit, and his speech was slurred.

He said his name was Mike. My husband gave his own name, and Mike extended a fist bump, as if they were introducing themselves over a beer at a ball game.

Seeing that Mike had nothing but the clothes on his back, my husband ran back to our car to grab one of the jugs of water. He offered it to Mike who took a big swig, then handed it back. He assured Mike that the water was his to keep.

Mike stood up fully at that point, staggering a bit. He mentioned that he needed to get to a dental appointment in a town 3 hours away. He was also concerned about all the ants (there were no ants).

It was obvious this man needed much more assistance than vacationing travelers, whose biggest concern just moments earlier was having enough road trip snacks, were able to give. 

God Provides

Another car stopped to help, and the woman pulled out her cell phone. Miraculously, she was able to get a signal and called 911. Miraculously again, there was a visible mile marker that she was able to give to the operator.

Before we realized it, Mike began walking again, water jug in hand. He had no interest in sticking around, and continued to make his way down the blistering road.

There was not much else we could do, so we continued driving toward our destination. But the mood in our car was drastically different. Our girls had questions we couldn’t answer. We had questions as well. 

Ten minutes later, an ambulance with wailing sirens sped past us, heading in Mike’s direction. We felt confident that they were responding to the 911 phone call.  

I thought about Mike for the next several hours, and for many days after. 

I wondered how he ended up on that stretch of highway, alone, lying on pavement that was likely hot enough to cook an egg.

I wondered what would have happened if the timing was off, and we had stayed a little longer taking pictures. With him lying inches from traffic traveling 70 miles per hour, I don’t like to think about it.

I wondered if Mike was afraid, worrying about what would happen next.

There are times in life when we find ourselves walking through what seems like a long stretch of desert. 

Weary. 

Exhausted.

Unsure.

Discouraged.

Hopeless.

Trying to reach a destination that seems out of reach. 

Wondering if we’ll get there. 

Wondering if it’ll work out for us.

God Works While We Wait

In those times, we don’t always consider the hand of God moving through our situation or circumstances. When we’re waiting for that phone call, wondering what we’re supposed to do next, questioning our decisions, or fearful of the future. Even in our desert, God is making a way. Even when – especially when –  we least expect it.

In Exodus, the Israelites found themselves wandering in the desert for much longer than they anticipated. They became discouraged and frustrated. Hopelessness was a recurring theme. They often doubted God and his promises. 

But we know how their story ends. And I don’t mean to point out the obvious, but God does some of his best work in the desert.

God provided for the Israelites while they waited. Their every need was met, although it may not have been in their timing or the way they expected. 

It was also in that place that God set in motion the greatest rescue mission the world would ever see. 

God reminded me on that highway that He is always, always working. Sometimes His provision looks drastically different than what we expect (or think we want). Our time in the desert changes us, and we emerge with new experiences and a greater perspective of God’s grace.

When we’re standing in the middle of it, the desert can be terrifying. Mercifully, it can also be incredibly beautiful.