By Pastor Scott Rosekrans
Teresa and I have always loved a good road trip. After fifty years together, we’ve logged plenty of miles, often starting on the interstate but quickly veering onto scenic backroads. The freeway is efficient, but it’s predictable—same chain restaurants, same views, same cruise control mentality. The magic happens when we take an exit onto an old highway, where small towns and unexpected encounters open our eyes. If you stop, look, and listen, you’ll see people differently when you meet them on their own terms.
Jesus, I think, enjoyed a good road trip too. The gospels are filled with stories of him traveling from town to town, pausing to meet people, listen to their stories, and show them love.
But what if Jesus took a road trip through 21st-century America?
Imagine him setting out from the Bronx in a mint-green Buick Skylark convertible, the AM radio playing oldies as he headed south. Somewhere along the backroads of Mississippi, he might stumble across a tent revival. Drawn to the riverbank, he’d line up with strangers waiting to be baptized. Immersed in the waters, he’d emerge filled with Spirit and purpose, ready to call others to join him on the journey.
Later, driving the Gulf Coast, he might meet shrimpers mending their nets. He’d strike up a conversation, and before long, Simon, Andrew, James, and John would find themselves in the Buick, swapping fishing stories for talk of a different kind of catch.
On another stretch of road, perhaps in Tennessee, Jesus might encounter a young man born blind. Where others saw punishment or shame, Jesus would see only God’s beloved child. With compassion, he’d touch the boy and restore his sight—astonishing the locals at Buck Snort’s bait shop.
Or picture him in a small Texas town, pausing for lunch at a roadside café. The waitress, bent with pain for years, shuffles from table to table. With quiet authority, Jesus would free her from her burden, even when onlookers objected that miracles didn’t fit the Sabbath schedule. “Isn’t relieving suffering holy work?” he’d ask.
Still later, he might share fajitas with tax collectors, bikers, and day laborers in Fort Stockton. When critics demanded to know why he surrounded himself with such company, he’d remind them: “It’s not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I came to call sinners, not the righteous.”
And maybe, just maybe, we’d find him walking among Seattle’s tents and shelters. Sitting beside a veteran in a wheelchair, he’d listen to his story of war and loss. Then, with a touch, he’d raise him to his feet, restoring not only his body but his hope.
These are familiar gospel encounters retold in a modern key. They remind us that Jesus never stayed on the “freeway” of respectable religion, speeding past human need. He took the scenic routes—pausing for conversation, healing, meals, and grace in surprising places.
The invitation for us is the same. Following Jesus means resisting the lure of efficiency and sameness. It means stepping off the fast track to meet people where they are, to hear their stories, and to share the healing love of Christ.
We may not perform miracles like Jesus, but we can bring presence, compassion, and dignity to those the world overlooks. Each time we risk a detour to see someone fully—to listen, to love—we carry the good news on the road.
Jesus is still traveling. The question is whether we’ll join him—Buick or no Buick—and be his companions for the transformation of the world.
Scott Rosekrans serves as pastor to the people of Community United Methodist Church in Port Hadlock, Washington.
