Where We Will Have Trouble
About ten years ago, my wife and I took our first cruise vacation. Within a couple of hours aboard the Norwegian Jewel out of Galveston, I thought, “Now this is how to travel.” Cruises offer something different: instead of tackling airports and TSA lines, you just drive, board, and ease into vacation mode, plates in hand at the buffet. Almost none of the food has price tags—it’s all included. The sunlight sparkled on the water, the coffee was hot, and for a moment I could almost believe I had found the good life.
But no matter how promising a trip seems, real life always tags along. The greatest downside of any vacation, I’ve learned, is that I have to bring myself along. My old habits, worries, and impatience sneak into every suitcase. Sometimes it’s bad weather blocking off the decks, the buffet running out of my favorite fish and chips, or settling for a hamburger on a stale bun. Other times it’s smaller things—searching for a lunch table like Indiana Jones hunting lost treasure, or grumbling at Wi-Fi that’s as slow as molasses.
Let’s face it: life is full of disappointments, big and small. But as Chuck Swindoll says, “Life is 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react to it.” My wife and I work at making the best of whatever happens and keep moving forward. We try not to let the little things become the main event of the day. I can’t say I’m immune to irritation, but I do try to keep perspective.
Even sitting on a breezy deck, surrounded by blue water, I sometimes catch myself comparing small comforts to those I left at home—the very place I was anxious to escape. I’ve come to believe that behind all our restless searching is a deeper longing—a need only God can fill. Years ago, I heard a pastor say that humans were made to worship, and if we don’t worship God, we’ll always look for substitutes. He described a magazine rack at a giant bookstore as a kind of altar—one loaded with magazines on beauty, fitness, travel, technology, and every interest you can imagine. These can be fine as hobbies, but they make terrible gods. They will always disappoint.
As I write, I’m nursing a pulled muscle; my hearing, vision, and memory aren’t what they once were. Yet Jesus told us plainly: “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Trouble is the price of admission to life in this world—but it’s not the last word. Our present home is no more permanent than a tiny windowless cabin on a ship. Instead, let’s worship the living God who came in human form, gave Himself for us, and is preparing a place where our inheritance never perishes or fades (1 Peter 1:4)—a place “where moth and rust do not destroy.” (Matthew 6:19-20)
If you’re searching for perfection, don’t look to this world—look to the One who overcame it.
