I believe that at times, events in my life have spoken parabolically of the deeper issues at hand. For instance, the times in my life of such desperate brokenness, was also spent with vehicles who were in no shape to get
me around anywhere. I could've just picked my car up from the shop...stranded on the side of the road. I bought a new car with no known problems..stranded on the side of the road, very far away from home. And my favorite time was of course when I chose the safe route; borrowing a "more reliable" car to drive a long distance...stranded on the side of the road, far from home, and broke to boot.
My car, the obvious symbol of what carried me, a very overstated point that the way I personally was maneuvering, was also in an extremely fragile condition, and no matter the work I invested, I was still very very broken.So here I am again, as a living parable. It all started about the time I was 17 and got my license. A very inexperienced driver (to say the least), I often made wrong turns, missed exits, and got a little to distracted with things that don't particularly pertain to driving at all. I have always managed, no matter the point of origin, to end up in a tiny town called Zoar. Oh I'm sorry, did I say town? I meant to say village! My friends can attest to this because it seemed every time we got in the car to go anywhere, we ended up there instead. To see that cursed sign was like venturing into the Twilight Zone, because as many unfortunate times as I had accidentally been there, I have no recall of the path taken that got us home. Zoar was my mental block. My new curse word. I loathe Zoar.
So this past weekend I made an excursion out of town (in the complete opposite direction of Zoar). On the way home, and careful to follow the proper signs, I knew I had somehow gotten off track. My surroundings were strange and I should have almost been home, not seeing unfamiliar sights. Ready to take the next exit to stop and ask for direcitons, I see a sign nearing....it reads "Zoar, 5 miles!" NOOO!! I almost started crying from that all-to-familiar sign of impending doom! How could this have happened? I didn't think I had ventured off course that long! How could this be? Aahhhh!!! Needless to say, I had to have help getting home because for the life of me, I had no idea which direction home was!
On my way home, my long way home, I really began to question what this really meant. Suddenly I had a strange recollection of what Zoar really represents. It began a long time ago...
In the Bible, there's a man named Lot; Abraham's nephew. He lived in a place called Sodom, which was near Gomorrah. These two towns had become so deviated from their true nature that there was nothing good in any who lived there...only perversion, and lots of it. Abraham called out to God to have mercy on the righteous who lived there, and to save them in the midst of the destruction that was about to incur. So God sent two angels to recover the righteous...and the grand total recovered included four! Lot, his wife and daughters...that's it.
The angels kept urging Lot to get his things and head for the safety of the mountains. Lot stalled so long, that the angels finally grabbed him and his family and literally carried them out of Sodom before God's judgement fell. The angels told them not to look back with longing in their hearts, and Lot's wife did. She turned into a pillar of salt. (Disclaimer: this is where you set theology and opinion aside, and humor me for the sake of the point I am aimlessly getting to, I promise).
So, running to the mountains, Lot decides that that is just a little too far for his liking, and tells the angels that he would like to stay and rest where he is now instead of traveling further. Although this wasn't what was intentioned, God granted his request.
He now settled in a town that was so close to the very life that he wasn't supposed to look back upon, that he could see the smoke and ruin of Sodom from his window. A window that he could daily gaze out of, staring his past right in the face. This tiny town, this village, was none other than Zoar.
My life at this point in time, how do I explain it...a ripeness bruised! Although I have so much freedom in a myriad of ways, there are still a few things that seem to keep urging me to take the wrong exit time and time again. I never seem to notice the distractions, because they are so minute. Yet, the varience of this subtle derogation leaves me lost all the same. I have been living in a place that is too uncomfortably close to my Zoar and it is now time for me to move far away from the things that I keep gazing my affections upon that are destructive, counterproductive, and annoyingly orbital. It is time for a new path, a new destination, and to take an axe to that sign that reads, "Now Entering Zoar"!
