Get on the Bus!

 

Now Nature holds her breath

To see the vital flood of radiance leap

Across the chasm; and crest the farthest rim…

Until the cataract of colour breaks

Upon the blackness of the granite floor.

(Henry Van Dyke, from “The Grand Canyon: Daybreak”)

That first glimpse of the Grand Canyon spun us around and left us dizzy.

Almost drowning in an emotional cascade, we exchanged wide smiles, mirroring respect and shock and amazement at the power of God and the beauty of His creation. Poetry flowing from our hearts, the only appropriate response. And then, standing still, we waited at the edge of Nature’s “flood of radiance” while the sun slowly set, sending shadows marching in every direction and enveloping the rim with silence. We were humbled and awed and stirred.

Even one glimmer of the Grand Canyon is a whole lot of God’s awesomeness, and we just wallowed in it.

And the very next morning, after the sun popped out, unmasking the blues and purples and pinks and reds in an ever-shifting kaleidoscope that magnified the miles of layered, weathered rocky cliffs and tree-dotted slopes, we grabbed our trekking poles, filled our backpacks with water and snacks, and took to the trail along the edge of the Grand Canyon’s south rim. We had been told it was seven miles, and we figured we could handle that distance without wearing ourselves out for the rest of our trip.

Full of anticipation, we began.

Each moment was savored. Each mile was worth it. We oohed and aahed and paused and soaked in as much grandeur as we could stand.

The mile markers reminded us how far we had walked, the sun blazed, and our 60-year-old bodies began to slow down. 

We weren’t worried, though, because a free shuttle bus stopped approximately every mile or so, making it easy to hop on and ride for a while. We knew we could always get on the bus, but we wanted to hike that seven miles without any help. 

With plenty of scenic stops along the path to rest and wallow in it all, we kept trekking. Soon, however, we discovered that the south rim path was twelve miles, not seven. We were doing pretty good, though, so we voted to continue our hike. We didn’t need the bus. And we’d have a story to tell our kids, a tale we began to rehearse as we walked, laughing about the seven miles that turned into twelve. And there was always the bus, waiting at every stop.

We continued to laugh as we walked, retelling the joke about the man who was caught in a flood and prayed for God to save him. Some boats came by and he waved them on. A helicopter flew over, and he waved it on. And then he drowned! And when he met God in heaven, the man asked, “God why did you let me drown? I prayed for You to save me!” And God replied, “I sent the boat! I sent the helicopter!” For crying out loud!

 

God kept sending a bus. We kept choosing to walk. Slowly.

Seven hours later, we reached the end of the path, somewhat dehydrated, completely exhausted, and barely able to walk. 

 

We thought we'd have a better story if we did it our way; God, however, kept sending the bus.

Well, we’ve got a story to tell for sure: Get on the Bus!

When you’re exhausted, get on the bus!

When you need rest, get on the bus!

When you’re thirsty, get on the bus!

You’ll be restored and refreshed and hydrated. And you’ll be ready for the next day! And the story will be even better because God is the one who sends the bus!

I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth.

(Psalm 121:1-2 NIV).

By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, their starry host by the breath of his mouth.

He gathers the waters of the sea into jars; he puts the deep into storehouses.

Let all the earth fear the Lord; let all the people of the world revere him.

For he spoke, and it came to be; he commanded, and it stood firm.

(Psalm 33:6-9 NIV).