Over the last two weeks, I have driven from Norman, Oklahoma, to Washington, D.C.  From there, I traveled to Boston, Massachusetts, before heading back to Norman. For those keeping score, that is 52 hours and 3,500 miles in the car.  

Why would I subject myself to such torture? It was my birthday this month, and my only wish was for Missy, our two adult sons and me to see Childish Gambino in Boston. (Along the way, I attended a Cooperative Baptist Fellowship Advocacy in Action event in D.C.).  

Missy and I spent five glorious New England days with our two adult sons while I dropped off a car for one of them to use. Those five days together made the long, arduous trek worth every moment squished inside a vehicle.

Here is a list of states (including the District!) I drove through on my travels: (1) Oklahoma, (2) Arkansas, (3) Tennessee, (4) North Carolina, (5) Virginia, (6) Washington, D.C., (7) Maryland, (8) Delaware, (9) Pennsylvania, (10), New Jersey, (11) New York, (12) Connecticut, (13) Massachusetts, (14) Ohio, (15) Indiana, (16) Illinois, and (17) Missouri. Throughout this 17-state road trip, the following peculiarities stood out.  

First, American landscapes are diverse and beautiful. From the flatlands of the Southern Plains to the fog shimmering off the Blue Ridge Mountains, around every corner of America lies an organic painting created by the beautiful hand of the Divine.  

Second, sunrises and sunsets are the best! There may be no more beautiful scene than witnessing the sun rise and set. Both are constant reminders that days are fleeting, so we should wake up embracing the beauty of life and lie down thankful for the day’s memories. 

Third, Jesus needs a new publicist. If I saw one sign that read “Jesus Saves,” I saw three dozen delivering a similar message. After the tenth sign, I responded with an inappropriate addendum to the tiring phrase.  

Jesus Saves— from stupid drivers!  

Jesus Saves— from the lack of restrooms on stretches of highways!  

Jesus Saves— from obnoxious Christians!  

Jesus Saves— uncreative Christian signs!  

Fourth, cannabis sales must be booming! There was a day when automobile and beer signs ruled the highway— Local Larry’s Auto Emporium or Tastes Great, Less Filling.  

Now, it seems, America has gone green and not in the “I love the planet” sort of way. Even more than Jesus signs, cannabis dispensary signs are everywhere in the good ol’ American heartland.  

Pretty soon, we’ll start seeing signs reading, “Jesus, Guns and Weed.”  God bless the U.S.A.!

Fifth, Christians like big crosses. Trekking across the country, I saw some of the most prominent crosses I’ve ever encountered.  

A few stood four to five stories high. Some were in front of churches, while others were in a field. Each time I saw one of these Christian towers of Babel, I could not help but wonder what Jesus would think of such lavish spending on his behalf.  

Sixth, Americans like big flags—even some that need to be lowered forever. I stopped counting the enormous American flags waving across the country. 

It seemed that the flags got bigger as I traveled across the country. Maybe they were overcompensating for their lack of true patriotism because when I saw the largest flag on the highway, a chill traveled down my spine–the Confederate flag.  

Seventh, Donald Trump is very popular in rural America. Another phenomenon I witnessed nationwide was the elaborate displays of support for the former President. 

From liberal Massachusetts to conservative Oklahoma, rural America appears to have bought the former president’s lies and conspiracies. His name was plastered on farms and signs, portraying their loyalty to the instigator of the January 6 insurrection.  

Eighth, from Danbury to Carlisle, my mind would not stop spinning. In addition to my time in Boston and D.C., I drove through two cities: One made me swell with pride, and the other made me weep with despair.  

In Danbury, Connecticut, Baptists received a letter in 1802 from President Thomas Jefferson establishing the metaphor of a wall separating church and state. In Carlisle, Pennsylvania, I lay my head on a pillow, listening for my ancestors’ cries as America beat and stripped them of their indigenous heritage.  

The ninth and final lesson I learned on the road was that people are much kinder than we think. From McDonald’s employees to gas station attendants, the people I encountered over 17 states and 3,500 miles were quick with a warm smile and considerate to help a weary traveler. We are all part of the human race, which simply means let’s keep looking out for one another while moving down life’s highway.

After my long journey, it’s good to be home with memories of another successful family vacation and a reminder of life’s fragility. Life goes by fairly quickly, so let’s keep fighting for what is decent, kind and beautiful.