Proof The Bible Is True

The sun was just beginning to set as I drove along the highway. I had only about 50 miles left to go before I arrived at my friend Eleanor’s beach house in Panama City, Florida.

 

This was my first vacation since my divorce. It was exactly what I needed. The problem was that I lived over 800 miles away in Texas. Money was tight, and driving was cheaper than a plane ticket, so I chose to drive myself there. I’d never taken that long of a road trip alone before, and I’d been somewhat anxious about the 12-hour drive. But things had gone smoothly so far, with long stretches of highway that I’d stay on for hours before merging. It was pretty straight-forward, up until the last leg of the trip, and I’d memorized the exits.

 

I spotted the sign for Panama City and exited the highway. Eleanor had told me that once I got off the main highway, I could choose to drive on the main drag, or take a more rural route. The main route was lined with shops and restaurants and packed with tourists. The other road was less direct, but there would be less traffic. One look at the stop-and-go cars turning onto the main street made it apparent that the rural option was best.

 

Just a few minutes into the drive, the city lights faded away. The sun had set by then, and I was in complete darkness, save for my headlights. There were no streetlights, and no other cars. I felt a flicker of regret, a feeling that I shouldn’t be there. I drove for what felt like forever. I kept my eyes peeled, but I couldn’t see any road signs.

 

Is this even the right road? I thought. What if I break down? Run out of gas? What if I just keep going and drive into the ocean by mistake? The fear might have been irrational, but on that lonely road, it felt so real. I needed to calm down. “Please, God, protect me,” I prayed. “Show me the way.”

 

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