With supplies in hand, we walked up the road to a nearby community center. There was a gazebo where we could sit down and rest. Sitting there, pondering what to do, the police showed up. Our life had turned into a bad movie, from which we could not escape. The same police officer, who had been so condescending when we were locked out of the cabin, came back. They came because of a complaint of ‘people in blankets walking along the highway.’ What the islanders lacked in intestinal fortitude, they made up for in predictability. I had wondered if Gavin had called them. The officer said he wanted to ‘help’. His psychobabble may have worked on others, but I was in no mood that day to go nine rounds with him again. Angry, I told them we didn’t want or need their ‘help.’ “If we are doing something against the law arrest us; otherwise just leave us alone.” Since there was no point in talking further, they left.
This conflict illustrates a common divide between the believer travelling through the wilderness and other people. At the root is an issue of trust. By default, man trusts in man, but the maturing believer is learning to put his trust in God. One is a broken stick, the other a firm foundation. This difference leads to the inability for one to understand the other. This distinction grows larger with each step of uncompromising faith the believer takes. Only when there was a peace that God was bringing help through a chosen vessel, would we accept; otherwise it was rejected.
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