As I write this, we are broken down somewhere in Illinois. Yes, you read that correctly. We have broken down again. We initially pulled over at this rest area because something seemed odd. Sure enough, the repairs that we just had done in Denver were not done very well, and the driveshaft was about to fall off the RV. Jason drove the CRV to the nearest town, picked up replacement parts, and made the necessary repairs to get us back on the road.  

But before we even started moving, we heard the distinct sound of metal hitting the road. We investigated and discovered that the pulley for the AC compressor (a system that has nothing to do with the repairs that were recently made) had broken in two. Half of it was lying on the ground, along with a piece of the fan that had shattered as the pulley broke loose. The other half was still attached but void of all its bearings.

Being Friday afternoon on Labor Day weekend, it wasn't easy to track down a replacement part, but we think we found one that will work. The bad news is, it doesn't arrive in town until 2:00 this afternoon. The good news is, since we're stuck here at this rest area beside a beautiful river, I can use the time to write another devotion.

At this very moment, I'm sitting at a picnic table facing the river. I'm staring right at a pterodactyl in the water. (If you have no idea what I'm talking about, you need to read this earlier post.). Other than the traffic noise behind me, it's an idyllic spot for writing. And as I pondered a topic for today, I remembered a thought that struck me last week during our week-long breakdown in Denver.

Except for the few days we spent at the missions conference in Grand Junction, we stayed in our RV. This gave us access to our food, and most importantly, allowed us to sleep in our bed each night. The only real problem we had was a water issue. Fortunately, we had filled up with gas ten minutes before our breakdown, so we had plenty of fuel to run the generator for electricity. We had also dumped our gray and black tanks and filled up with fresh water the day we set off, but even then, we could only stretch for about a week because that's all the capacity the tanks have.

So, we rationed. We took sponge baths instead of showers, tried to use as few dishes as possible, so we didn't have to use water to wash them, and allowed the laundry to pile up. We bought 2.5-gallon jugs of water for drinking and making tea. (I have to have my tea, people!). We went to the bathroom only when we had to, and even then, we were very conservative in how much water we used for flushing. But still, as the days stretched on, the gray and black tanks filled, and the water tank emptied.  

If you're not very familiar with RVs, let me explain a little. The gray tank is where your shower, sink, and laundry water go. The black tank is where the toilet water (and anything "deposited" there) goes. For the most part, we don't have many issues with our black tank giving off an odor, but part of that is because we do a good job of not letting it get too full. That is, until we were forced to make it last over a week.

After about five days, in the heat, the black tank began to give off an odor, particularly right after flushing the toilet. Not to gross anyone out, but the smell resembled that of Brussel sprouts that have gone about a week past their expiration date. It's unpleasant, to say the least. And it served as a constant reminder that the entire ordeal was a stinky situation.

Unfortunately, the black tank wasn't the only thing giving off an odor. After the many delays, broken promises, and sleepless nights, my attitude had quite a stench to it as well. I tried to trust God. I attempted to stay positive. But after a while, the aroma of my heart grew fetid, and there was no hiding it. Like the black tank, it permeated the air with a foul stench that gave evidence to the state of my heart—it was full. Not of peace, joy, and the other fruit of the Spirit. But full of discontentment, frustration, and bitterness.  

I was angry that no one seemed to understand how important it was for us to get moving again. I was steamed at the mechanics for not working quickly enough or making our job a priority. I was aggravated with the parts company that failed to get the part in the mail on time, causing yet another delay. But most of all, I was fuming at God for allowing all this to happen. He could have prevented it, after all. He is almighty and omnipotent. So, why was He putting us through all of this? Hadn't we been through enough lately? Haven't we been trying to serve Him?

To be honest, I'm not sure which smelled worse—the black tank or my attitude. I didn't want to feel this way. I didn't mean to be angry and bitter. But I felt so powerless and hopeless. So, it consumed me until we were finally on our way again. Obviously, one of the first things we did was get fuel, dump the two tanks, and fill the water tank. In the end, it was a miracle how long they held out.

As we traveled, I spent time in prayer and my Bible, doing my best to get my heart back in shape and to ward off the aroma of my bad attitude.  I apologized to the Lord over and over. I pleaded with Him to forgive me and help me be stronger in fighting off my emotions. I was starting to feel better—calmer and more at peace. Then, we broke down again. But this time was different.

Yes, as I sit here wondering what the future holds, there is a slight sense of frustration and apprehension. But oddly enough, there's also a great sense of peace. As I stare out across the flowing river, my racing mind is quieted, and my heart is calmed. The insects are chirping around me. The wind is blowing through my hair. It's like an oasis in the desert, and I realized that's precisely what God has been in my life—an oasis.

There have been many deserts, especially since starting deputation. But through them all, God has been right there. He has protected us. He has provided for us. He has made a way when there seemed to be no way. But more than that, He's given us the strength to keep on going, the peace to praise Him in the storm, and the grace to know that no matter how many times we mess up, He'll always be there for us. The calm in the storm. The light in the darkness. The oasis in the desert. That's my God, and I hope He's your God too.