Alone in a hotel room on the other side of the planet, I put on my country music playlist. The words of a faith that is comfortable in a rusted pickup truck, or on the other side of a broken life, wash over me – Jesus take the wheel, I hope you dance, When I get where I’m going, Heaven is waiting.
Tears surface from some place deep inside.
Country faith is grounded in a simplicity better put in a song than in a doctrinal treatise. It is a practical faith, played out in relationship, unashamed and open, warts and all. So easy for me to slip into an intellectual faith, especially when I’ve just spent a month defending and advancing the faith in various academic conferences overseas. So humbling to realize when it is all said and done, I have a country faith that don’t need no lengthy explanation cause there ain’t no reason quite wild enough* to capture God’s heart for me.
It has been a long trip. I miss home. Heaven is waiting. And with the dry ache of a lone coyote’s whine, My Savior’s calling and I’m listening. Time to saddle up my pony and ride.*
*lyrics from “Heaven is Waiting” by Mitch McVicker