Lightspeed Travel

Traveling Light is a book written by Texas preacher Max Lucado. It's been sitting on my parents' bookshelf for a number of years, and the title always made me consider a beam of light peaking into a dense forest, a light that we might travel somewhere beyond the thicket of our own makings.

Thus, I was again a little disappointed that the book did not match my judgment of the cover. Where I used Traveling as an verb indicating how the noun (Light) moves, Lucado meant Light to be an adjective describing the process of movement (Traveling).

Basically, he's retelling the 23rd Psalm, reminding us that we ought to put down our burdens and let God do the worrying in our journey called life.

I've read a short Lucado book before, but this better illuminates his writing style, which can only, if ironically, be described as pastoral. Yes, he's a pastor, but that's not what I mean. Look it up. Additionally, metaphors flood the pages like cats and dogs from the sky in a thunderstorm. Some get lost in the specific nomenclature of the example, but the range of topics allows one to grasp most of them, or at least discern the meaning.

For the most part, the book accomplishes what it intends: a line-by line examination of the 23rd Psalm, addressing problems people have today. A few chapters felt like he was stretching his page count (at best) or giving loathesome counsel (at worst). What stands out to me are the chapters on Grief and Loneliness. Here I will make a lot of text about minor objections:

The chapter on Grief, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..." Psalm 23:4 (NKJV) tells a story of a young boy dying. The intent is of the chapter is to console the greiver, and this is accomplished. We are assured that God comforts those who greive, and Lucado should have stopped there. No, he continues, death is a good thing. Sometimes people are suffering and their quality of life is no longer good. What for the one that died early in life, say, in a car accident? God's time is not our time. But what about the unbeliever? How can we rest easy knowing they did not go to a better place? Lucado's solution is one of dangerous inclusivity. He insists that maybe they repented at the last minute, or as they traveled the road between death and judgement. He continues that God wants us to repent and go to heaven (2 Peter 3:9) and insists that God "usually gets what he wants."

Now I don't pretend to know what happens when we die, maybe we do all get some grace period to recant our misdeads after we die, but this feel-good approach that you can rest easy knowing your friend who lived a decidedly ungodly life went to heaven seems like bad teaching. Jesus said "Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it." Matthew 7:13-14 (NIV).

Thus, my contention is that while God may want everyone to join him in heaven, the reality is that FEW actually do.

My second objection to this book comes from the chapter on loneliness. Oh how this made me angry. He give the story of a shut-in that orders deliveries for personal interaction, and is puzzled at how someone could be so lonely. He continues with another analogy of driving a friend's car, with your only choice in music is to listen to nothing or something you don't prefer. Eventually, out of desperation, you find yourself adapting to the friend's choice in music. Lucado says this is like God, forcing us into a corner which the only way out is God's way, and therefore loneliness is a Gift from God.

Obviously he doesn't know lonely. Most preachers I've met are extroverted social butterflies. They go where people are and make conversation, and make friends. Lucado says one of his prayers on a sunday morning on behalf of the congregation gave thanks to God for all our friends, noting we have more than time to spend with them. A businessman later informed him that wasnt' the case for all the congregants, like himself, who was in the midst of a church but still lonesome.

My work in software has found many such people. We're an introverted lot for the most part, and many prefer that, but loneliness still abounds. I've known people that although lonely, would prefer to not go to a party with a bunch of acquaintances. The rationale was simple: being around a group of people who all knows each other highlights one's own loneliness. Being around people and their friends as an outsider is worse than being alone and not having that reminder right in front of them. Its a vicious cycle, to be sure, but hardly one that I would consider a Blessing for those undergoing it. Yes, "God is with me" but friends of flesh and blood are important too. A lonely person doesn't want to be told their isolation is a blessing anymore than someone with terminal cancer does. Someone who is truly upset because they are lonely is so because they feel it too is terminal; there is no relief in sight.

Later in the chapter Lucado emphasizes that whatever the problem we are facing (see economy) God is with us. These are reassuring words, despite the earlier part of the chapter that I find unfortunate.

On the whole, the book accomplishes it's task of relating the 23rd Psalm into today's vernacular. Take comfort in the Shepherd that so many have heard of, and trust him to guide us throughout this day.