The turnaround.
We entered the Lincoln Tunnel for another quick roundtrip NYC – Outer Banks to check progress on our soundfront home construction. Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel by 9:30pm; hotel before midnight. We planned to meet our son the next morning, who was making an early drive from Raleigh. As we approached the bridge entrance we slowed to hundreds of cars in the parking lot. The 17-mile bridge was closed due to 55 mph winds. We wondered why so many were willing to wait out nature’s timeline.
Seemed like a sure road to an overnighter in the car.
We turned around, eager to find the alternate route. Impatient with GPS misinformation, we opted for old school. The gas station cashier told us the only way—to backtrack north 100 miles thru Salisbury to US50 West. We naively applauded that westward turn 100 miles later, only to traverse another 180 miles of dark, unmarked roads before registering a dependable GPS location.
Another 350 miles. ETA 8am. We were closer to NYC than the OBX. We had traveled 600 miles to be 190 miles from our starting point, now paused at a dark, isolated intersection of choice. If not for our son, we would have turned toward home.
It was then that I realized God had a bigger WHY for this trip, challenging us to accelerate our commitment, to double down on our intent. It was going to cost us more. Exhausted, we headed south for 350 more miles, crossing the bridge into OBX at 8:07am. We checked in. Heard a knock. Our day had begun.
After an overnighter in the car.
Big drill. Very big drill.
The first view we saw from the bottom of our ascending driveway was a group of “sticks” gathered at the top of the hill. It grew in stature as we hiked to the top.
Look at that drill.
Those pilings.
The scale of piling to human.
Pilings that are not hammered into the ground by a human hand. Posts drilled down to the bedrock for a house that will withstand hurricane winds, fierce rain, in all, the synergy of an uncompromising soundfront and its patriarch, the Atlantic Ocean.
Standing next to the pilings was humbling. The hope and heft of those towering anchors; the sure stance of each wooden pillar. The massive, unyielding power of something so strong, tall and deep. On this day—during these few hours together—we shared what our home would be built on. Seeing father and son standing together on our land, I began to see the WHY.
Legacy pilings for life.
This is how deep God’s pilings anchor our lives with those we love. Because the Atlantic Ocean is no match for its Creator.
How deep? I will never have a drill big enough for eternity pilings.
On some days—I dig deeper into His word, especially heavy writing days; on others I read a couple of verses, drive a short stake into my understanding, pray, and go—always anxious to hear His voice, but not always willing to wait for it. I try to mentally “stay present” in His word throughout the day, to help turn me away from selfish actions and a world-ridden attitude. Stay prayerful, focused, faithful.
My struggle is consistently sporadic and human.
Jesus uses His Father’s drill.
Every day—Jesus is drilling His sacrificial love and truth deep, deep into my heart, giving me an unyielding foundation on the bedrock of the cross. While I am pounding “earthly stakes” of human scope and scale, my Savior is bringing in His Father’s drill and setting eternity pilings. He is anchoring my perspective and understanding in His love to elevate my view of His kingdom. Those pilings sustain me every day. Through incoming storms and insane sunsets.
What I will always have is His bedrock on which to build my character and my life.
Paul writes to the Corinthians:
10 By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as a wise builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should build with care. 11 For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. 12 If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, 13 their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work. 1 Corinthians 3:10-13 (NIV)
Bold choices, Paul.
It sounds like being a wise builder is not for the weak-hearted.
Our house pilings demanded a hurricane-proof frame, windows, walls, doors. Code required it. Likewise, Paul tells us that the quality of materials we use to build our earthly life will be tested by fire. What you use to build your character on His eternal pilings should cost you. Everything. Your time, spiritual gifts, and resources—your most valuable, most enduring qualities that will stand the test of fire. This makes our daily faith walk clear, guided by simple introspection:
• How will I apply His word to build my character on his legacy pilings… today?
• With whom will I share my spiritual gifts… today?
• Which assets and resources will I give to others… today?
Lookin’ for buoys.
Our little road trip was not over when we left our work site. Traveling back to NYC I wrestled with an entangled mess of truth knots. I had my big WHY, the legacy pilings, but I was mentally churning. I call this looking for the buoys from this frustrating, demanding 24 hours. Buoys I can share, that anyone can hang on to over and over again.
Buoy so near | The solutions God puts in front of you might be one parking lot away. Don’t overlook solutions in close proximity. Had we pulled in and asked a few people, we would have gained insight about how long the wait might be from daily bridge commuters. We may have been only one or two brief conversations, a shorter wait, and 17 miles from the ‘south’ side of the problem.
Buoy adrift | Your faith is anchored to God. He keeps pace when you make decisions that run you adrift. He builds your character, perspective and understanding along your misguided human way. When you backtrack, detour, drift, you will still reach your destination IF your faith is tethered to His faith. You are the only one who will ever let go. He will not let go. Do not. Let go.
Buoy afar | Big ‘ole buoy. Had to swim out a ways for this one. The distance you travel is not measured in miles. It is measured in love and truth. To drive 600 miles with 350 left to go on a 440-mile trip doesn’t add up in your favor mathematically, but spiritually you reach your destination when you embrace the WHY of your trip. The spiritual distance we travel to the WHY in our experiences IS the destination.
What I learned from this 600-mile WHY:
God drills deep to give our love legacy a permanent foundation. There are transitions with children, our loved ones, that illuminate our mortality and our legacy in unexpected ways. We had shared purchasing the land, the floor plans, but it wasn’t until our son stood beside his father on our land that it was marked on our family timeline, i.e., how this home would shape the journey from one generation to another. For him, his brothers, and their families. Sharing our love for God through a shared new place that is a love bridge between our lifetimes. Our forever home. This home will have memories with us. Then without us.
What does this really mean? How we embrace our love for Jesus is no shallow faith walk. How we love, how we “faith” is designed to run deep, girded by God’s legacy pilings. This is the love legacy that we give to “our” next generation.
Paul writes to the Ephesians: 17 so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, 18 may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, 19 and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:17-19 (NIV)
Take the WHY Road.
I’ll be writing about 600-mile WHYs for a long time. How do I know this?
Because I was so stubborn about not wanting that drive to ever have happened. I fought that 600 miles all week. I mulled over the turnaround moment ad nauseum. I traveled an additional 2,000 mental miles over it. Although I had learned big God-stuff, I was in denial about owning the choice to backtrack 600 miles. Not denial because I thought waiting in the parking lot would have taken less time, but denial that the price paid to learn my God-stuff was too high. Not necessary. Wouldn’t I have learned it without all those miles? No.
By Friday, exhausted, I accepted it: Get over it. Life is full of 600-mile WHYs. You have to double down to go the spiritual distance. God will ask you to make that commitment again and again, not when you think you are ready, but in the center of chaos, an unexpected challenge, A HASTY DECISION, a messy experience that makes you road weary, and wondering about the WHY. You won’t be prepared; you won’t have packed for it. You will have no opportunity to “regroup and rest” during it. But God’s plan for you is this: your WHY is how you will grow. And you have to want the WHY, bad. God’s WHY. God’s way.
For what? The view.
