Traveling: Doing Hard Things-Part II

Read Time: 7 minutes

by AJ Canterbury

My loneliest years followed the death of my mother to cancer. To compound the emotional loss of the core of my family, I moved from Pennsylvania to Minnesota where I had no ties. I went through the first year disconnected from the world around me, watching life, as if a spectator, fade from one scene to the next. I just handled the events of the day without a clear sense of purpose.

The spiritual boot camp I had undergone since Mom’s diagnosis, four months prior to her death, exacerbated my feelings of disconnect. I had begged, sought, and negotiated for her healing with God, but all my battling had been rejected. I had “graduated” that boot camp with disappointment, more questions, and a battered faith.

My brother came home one evening with a Lifehouse CD. Brian insisted I listen to the song “Everything” and affirm the Christian undertones of the song. I obliged him, fell in love with the song, bought my own CD, and listened to it on repeat.

The lyrics of the songs resonated with my dehydrated inner man, giving words to my hoarse gasping. God tethered me to himself so I did not want to abandon my faith; I just had so many questions. I assumed my parched throat needed answers to those questions before I could reengage with my life.

I figured God owed me an acceptable explanation for why Mom had died, and once I had it, I’d be satisfied. But as I listened to the song, “Breathing,” I realized my soul sought something deeper from the Lord:

” ‘CauseI am hanging on every word you’re saying,

Even if you don’t wanna speak tonight,

That’s alright, alright with me,

‘Cause I want nothing more than to sit outside Heaven’s door

And listen to you breathing,

It’s where I wanna be.”

“Breathing” by Lifehouse

What I heard in the chorus matched the cry of my heart: more than words and explanations, I just wanted to sit with him. I was spinning, without an anchor, and even if he chose to remain silent, I longed just to take shelter under his steady hand. I was convinced I could find rest there. I agreed with the psalmist, “But as for me, the nearness of God is good for me; I have made the Lord GOD my refuge, so I may tell of all your works.” (Psalm 73:28).

That revelation provided the comfort and direction to rest in his goodness and walk in trust. I don’t know Jason Wade intended that when he wrote the lyric, and it doesn’t really matter. God, in his kindness, used the band and the song as his instrument to steer me back on track. 

It was enough to make me a lifelong fan.

Fast-forward 20 years…

When Jason Wade announced that he was doing three acoustic shows on the East Coast, I imagined how great it would be to make it to one. The show would feature the Lifehouse songs that had spoken so powerfully to me. Who knew if I’d have too many more opportunities to hear those songs performed live.

I planted the idea in Brian’s head to attend the concert together. He vacillated between wanting to and considering the family and work responsibilities he would neglect. While I waited his decision, Wade released a drawing where you could win tickets to one of the shows. I went ahead and entered, with no expectations to win. However, serendipity intervened.

With free tickets to the show, I grew more insistent that I must find a way to go even after my brother decided he could not make the trip work. I failed in my attempts to recruit friends to come with me, so I resolved I would go on my own. Rather than letting the fear of traveling alone with my physical disability discourage me, I found the idea invigorating. 

I mapped out the handicap-accessible public transportation from the airport to the concert venue. I planned to fly out the day of the concert and fly back the next morning to escape needing someone to transfer me in and out of bed at a hotel. I contacted the airport to ensure I could check-in through security and pull an all-nighter, eating snacks and watching movies and pretending I was still only 20 years old!

Confident I had secured all I needed to, I believed I could do this.

As always proves to be true, I grew less brave the closer the trip approached. Was I really intending to march around an unfamiliar city like I had no physical limitations? I feared I had aggrandized my independence and ignored my poor situational awareness.

I confessed to Brian on our way to the airport that I had been praying that God would supernaturally fill me with increased awareness and wisdom. I told him this as much to alleviate his anxieties as to reassure myself.

I felt a surge of independence rise in me when the plane touched down in Atlanta. I located the public tram that would take me into the city, which served me some humility. Although I had used public transportation daily in college, I felt ill-equipped to figure it out, a combination of knowing nothing of the geography of this place and being 20 years older.

I felt like a complete novice, relying on an agent to help me purchase a round-trip ticket and another to escort me around the subway station to get on the right bus. I wasn’t exactly channeling my inner Indiana Jones to champion my own adventure. But when I was safely riding the final bus to get to the venue, I could not stop from mentally expressing gratitude. 

The progressive nature of my Friedreich’s Ataxia had stolen much of my independence in the last two decades. I recalled even the abilities I had to travel alone 10 years ago that were, now, long gone. But I still possessed enough faculties to make this trip. I may not always have this level of freedom but today I did, and that overwhelmed with thankfulness that God had granted me the opportunity to be here.

Putting Doctrine to Practice

Even when God allowed the worst to settle on my day, he never relinquished a moment of control. Circumstances served him and his plans, not the other way around.

The bus dropped me off in front of the venue three hours before its doors opened. I glanced around at my surroundings, the former shipping area was in the process of being turned into a more developed spot, but, at the moment, it was still pretty secluded. Using Google maps, I rolled up the sidewalk to kill time and find some food.

Across the street, I caught sight of a “Grand Opening” sign and the scent of barbeque. I determined it was worth investigating so I headed back for the cross light I had passed. My wheelchair easily navigated the break in the cement and gravel terrain when I went over it the first time, but it objected when I returned from the other direction.  

When I jumped the curb from the sidewalk to the rocks, my wheelchair came to an immediate stop. It hung over the edge with the front tires spinning tirelessly. I rocked the chair back and forth, hoping to break free, but to no avail. I was stuck.

“This is how the trip ends,” I thought.

I would spend the rest of my time in Atlanta stranded on the sidewalk, missing the concert I had come for. I’d await the police to come rescue me, and I would be ruined from ever making a trip alone again. It could have been worse, I figured. I could have toppled from the wheelchair into the street or been knifed and mugged.

I assured myself I would be fine. A stuck wheelchair was a problem to be sure, but I had been in tighter spots before. Eventually, I would work myself free or a kind stranger would happen upon me. 

Even though I was confident I’d emerge victoriously from my predicament, an onslaught of anxieties began to pick at my mind. I thought I had snuffed them out before I left home, but my inner voice threw out all the dilemmas that could befall me on this trip. God might rescue me from this trouble, but what if something else awaited me he didn’t intend to deliver me from.

I claim belief in a sovereign God who governs and ordains every aspect of life in my blog posts and whenever I teach. I counsel that the doctrine offers peace and security for the believer and needs to be embraced. If the one who determined the number of my days had ordered this trip to be my end (Ps 139:16), could I find the solace to trust him even in that?

I found myself in a position to put the doctrine into practice and be more than pretty words. Did the belief only work logically on paper, or could it offer peace when put into practice? I rehearsed what his Word says to me: he is control of all his creation, both the bringer of good and calamity (Ps 103:19, Is 45:7); everything works to the counsel of his will (Eph 1:11); nothing can separate me the love of God (Rom 8:35). God gives approval to all that happens, and he isn’t shocked by anything.

As a Disciple of Christ, every moment of my life fostered my development into the likeness of his son (Rom 8:29). I could trust that whatever came from his hand accomplished that purpose. Even when God allowed the worst to settle on my day, he never relinquished a moment of control. Circumstances served him and his plans, not the other way around.

As I dangled over the sidewalk, I had the chance to let these truths settle into my heart. There they took root, and contentment replaced anxiety. Whether the day brought blessing or disaster, I rested in the security of my stronghold who could not be shaken.

Trust in the Sovereignty of God Brings Assurance

As Providence would have it, a couple rounded the corner and immediately spotted my trouble. With their help I made it back on the level sidewalk and completed my journey to the stoplight. Now freed, I made it across the street, found food at the courtyard, and returned to the venue in time for the concert.

The comfort of God’s presence flooded my mind as I listened to the familiar, Lifehouse songs. When Wade sang “Breathing,” I remembered just how much it had meant to me before, and now additional appreciation was given to the song. Two decades later, I still clung to his nearness, his breathing, as my chief comfort.

I carried the peace I gained on the sidewalk with me on the trip back to the airport. Even though a 45-minute wait for the bus on a darkened street, the wild nightlife at the subway station, and a broken-down tram all threatened the return of my anxieties, I kept my grip on trust. I didn’t abandon my awareness or surrender my need to keep myself safe, but I knew I belonged to him.

“You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you.”

Isaiah 26:3

Once safe through airport security, I reflected on my day at the gate.  Before the trip started, I had fully expected to enjoy the concert, but what I hadn’t expected was to have encountered Jesus the way I had. The trip had revitalized my soul in a way I hadn’t known it needed to be. I was grateful I made the trip alone so I could receive the comfort I did.

Apropos, that once again, God used Lifehouse to minister to me. I suppose, I’ll remain a fan for at least another 20 years.

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