Darkness settles over harvested Tennessee corn fields. I’m lying in my bed, the random February heatwave warming my room and keeping me wide awake—or is it something else that holds sleep from my tired mind? Yes, for weeks, Arizona and my time spent in those high desert canyons on the Indian reservation is fresh on my mind. I can’t let it go—the memories. The pain, the darkness, the people. The stories, the miracles, the laughs, the tears, the fears. The epiphanies and the dumb, face-palm moments. The hurt, the anger, the hope, the glory. And I know I have to share it. I have to share the pieces of my heart that were left with those people. Share the heavy realities, the stories, the miracles. Yes, perhaps one day soon I will write about their stories—the ones I entered into, the ones I witnessed, the ones that touched me. But for tonight, in the soon dawning of morning, I’ll share a story of my own that took place in those high desert plains.

***

At last, the weekend was almost upon us. After another hectic week of teaching little Indians, running kids’ programs, studying with little girls about Jesus, and who knows what else, my fellow student missionary and I were feeling the urge for a break—specifically a spontaneous camping trip. However, because we still had innumerable responsibilities on the weekend, we could not leave till Saturday afternoon. But considering the fact that that coming Monday was a holiday and there would be no school, we jumped on the opportunity to leave campus. Digging out the atlas, we came up with a plan to go to Bear’s Ear National Monument in Utah, about three hours away. We planned to dry camp and sleep in my car since we didn’t have a tent and it was in the middle of nowhere anyway. Besides, camping “spots” were free. Excitedly we packed the car with everything we thought we could possibly need—and not need. Way too much food, drinking water, mountains of blankets, (of course fairy lights were essential), toilet paper, matches, and practically the whole house was packed into the car. I mapped out our path online and took pictures of the directions, knowing we would lose service and possibly not get it back till we came back. All surrounding towns near where we were camping were located and a way for refilling the car with gas was secured. The atlas was placed back in the car. As far as we could tell, we were more than ready. Finally, we were leaving the reservation for a breath of fresh air.

Our journey there was uneventful and it was amazing to get back into the trees. As predicted, we did lose service. Once we made it to the top of Bear’s Ear, we stopped to consider our options and make a plan. I checked the gas gage.

We wanted to go hiking, had no map of the area, a half tank of gas, and no service.

So, that left us with a few options. We could simply park the car and set up camp, leaving us with enough gas to get home, or we could get a map by driving 10-15 minutes back down the mountain to the ranger station we failed to stop at before, while risking the high possibility of it already being closed. Or, we could find a random trail, go hiking, and get gas the next day in a town nearby that we located on the map. We chose the third option. The evening was beautiful and we found a great little clearing to park my car and set up camp. We had some supper and soon crawled under the blankets for a good night’s sleep. The coyotes howled most the night and the elk calls echoed throughout the “mountains”. It was awesome.

We woke up the next morning to sun rays dancing in the trees and a flock of turkeys grazing nearby. Climbing out of our cocoon, we went into the woods to gather firewood for a campfire. It was a little wet, but soon we had a fire roaring and breakfast cooking. Our first priority that morning was to go on a hike, and then find the town and fill up with gas. So, we loaded up the car and headed down the dirt road. At the top of the mountain was a wooden sign with the name of the town on it pointing us in the right direction. Underneath the name was a number indicating how many miles away the town was, about 17 if I remember correctly. So, after our hike, off we went chasing gas. The dirt road seemed to go on forever. Finally, we came to the end of the dirt road where it connected with a main road. I looked to the right. No sign. I looked to the left. No sign. I grabbed the atlas and looked for the little dirt road we came off of. But there was no such road on the map. I checked my phone. No service. I checked the gas gage. It was getting lower. Putting our heads together, we estimated how many miles we had driven since the wooden sign and estimated how many more miles we had still to go to reach the town. It wasn’t very many, maybe 10, so, we decided to drive 10 miles one direction and if we didn’t hit the town or see a sign, we would go 10 miles in the other direction. Certainly that way we would find it.

I said a little prayer in my head and turned right. I had barely driven more than a few miles down the road, but it just didn’t feel right to me. So pulling off on the side of the road, we took a longer look at the map. A few minutes later and we were just as bewildered. A car pulled up behind us and I realized it was a young woman alone. We got out of the car to see if she knew which direction the town was. Well, turned out she had no idea and was having trouble finding where she wanted to go as well. So, back to our car we went, our hope waning. The atlas was useless. We decided to turn around and go the other direction. Barely had we passed the dirt road we originally came off of when we came upon a road sign—and a road block. The town we were looking for was indeed in that direction, but the road was closed.

Reality started to sink in.

Here we were, two random girls in the desert, no service, running low on gas, no one to help us, and the road was closed. We had few options left. So we prayed. And then we went over our limited options together. Option one was to go back to our camp and search for other campers who might have extra gas on them. Option two was to head back home and hope we could reach gas on the route before we ran out. Option three was to locate another town, driving way out of our way and hope we could make it to gas. The first option seemed more reasonable. The only problem was, all other campers seemed to be out having fun—which meant there was no one back at camp. And we needed to be back in Arizona the next evening. Somehow we would have to find somebody. We prayed again and then I turned on the car and headed back down the dirt road. In the distance I saw another car coming. My hope grew. Maybe I could stop a passing car and ask them for gas. But the car sped by as if on a race to get somewhere important. Minutes later and another off-roading vehicle whizzed by.

There’s no way I’m going to be able to stop anyone! I thought. I was beginning to despair. All this driving around was using the last of our precious gas, and there was no way we could make it back home on what was left. But there was nothing else to do except keep driving back to camp, hoping we would come across somebody, and to keep praying of course.

Suddenly, we rounded a corner and there, in the middle of the road, sat a jeep.

It wasn’t moving. It was just sitting right smack in the middle of the road for literally no reason at all. I knew this was our miracle. A man, a woman, and a dog looked out at us as we approached. Pulling up beside him, I rolled down my window and popped my question.

“Hey, do you know of any place to get gas around here besides Blanding?” (The town we were trying to reach). “The road is closed and we’re running low on gas,” I explained.

He looked at me and emphatically stated, “There are no towns besides Blanding. Blanding is the only town to get gas!” He paused and I felt like giving up. “I’d give you some of ours,” he pointed to the back where a couple gas canisters hung, “but they’re empty.”

I was just about to politely thank him and keep driving when he spoke up again. “I know a back road to get to Blanding. You can just follow me and I’ll take you there and if you run out before we get there, we’ll go on and get some gas and bring it back.”

The sane part of me, or maybe the insane part of me, told me not to trust or follow strangers. But I knew this was our only option. So I agreed and for the third time headed back down that little dirt road. Just when I was beginning to think he wasn’t leading us anywhere different than we had already gone, he turned onto a little trail and in an instant, I found myself off-roading in search of gas. At last it dumped us onto a paved road; we came upon a neat little town and in minutes pulled up to a gas station. We conversed with our rescuers for a bit and found out they lived there and knew that area like the back of their hand. Before we left, they suggested we take a different route back to Arizona and stay safe. They didn’t trust us to know one whit what we were doing and I couldn’t blame them! We assured them we knew the way back and would be camping one more night in the mountains. After thanking them all over again, we pulled out into the setting sun and made our journey back over that little dirt road—again. Suddenly, I busted up laughing. For one, I was simply relieved. For two, I felt really dumb. For three, I should’ve known God would come through. And fourth, it was past time to eat lunch! I couldn’t help laughing!
At last we made it back and after we prayed again to thank God for our little miracle, we collapsed into bed beneath a starry sky.

***

No matter where you are, no matter the unknowns, the fears, the anxieties, the “not enoughs”, or “empty tanks” in your life—let me assure you, God is already there. God is with you. And He will provide.

If you’ve come to the end of your road and you find yourself without service or connection, with no signs or direction, and with the last of your hope blocked off—God still has a way.

You may have exhausted the last of your options, the last of your hope, but God hasn’t.
Sometimes, it’s simply that choice we have to make to either trust God, or to keep on driving on empty. To allow God to step in and lead us over that little rocky path to rich fulfillment, or to drive on by hoping to find someone else who will give us what we want, give a quick fix, temporarily fill our tank. God wants to lead us to the source—to the very core of Hope, to Love Himself. No one who has a heart longing for God is too far out of service that heaven cannot be reached. No one who has a heart seeking God is too lost that God cannot find them. When you’re lost and unsure of your next move, God will find you. Because LOVE knows no limits.

When you don’t know which way to go and you’re running on empty, God will place Himself in the middle of your path.

He did for the woman at the well (John 4). He did for the woman who had a flow of blood for twelve years (Luke 8:43-48). He did for the demon possessed man (Mark 5). He did for Zacchaeus (Luke 19). He did for the ten lepers (Luke 17:11-19). He did for us. And He will for you.

The question is, will you follow?