Tire Tracks

Before opening the Scripture to the gospel of John, I went out on the front porch to get a feel for the weather.  The sun was still hidden under the eastern horizon, but its light was breaking the darkness enough to see things around me.  The cows were getting started with the hay bale and two squirrels were playing chase around a nearby pecan tree.  When I looked over toward the brown winter hayfield, I saw it.  Tire tracks.  Almost a week before I had driven the truck across the barren field toward the house.  Tire tracks.  Evidence of where I had been.

 

Suddenly it was more than just standing on the porch to feel the cold of the morning.  It became a moment as filled with divine presence as it might have been had I been sitting inside in front of the holy Word.  I found myself wondering about the tracks I had left over the years in the places I had lived and worked.  Over a life time I have pastored churches from one side of this state to the other.  A lot of memories are a part of what is past.   My life has intersected more lives than I could possibly remember.  I wondered, "Can those behind me see any evidence that I have been where they are now?  Are there any tire tracks in the barren remembrances of the past?"

 

I imagine those behind me are a lot like I am today.  More things have been forgotten than are remembered.  This is not to say all the experiences and all the people from the past are gone in what is now the present moment of my life.  The truth is I remember much.  And, the thing I remember most are those moments when it was my privilege to stand alongside someone in moments when both our lives were being intersected by the living presence of Christ in our midst.  While standing on the porch in the early morning, I thanked God that His presence is never erased. His tracks in our lives never cease to be seen.  I found myself hopeful that just maybe someone from the past days might see evidence of His tracks and mine running close together.