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Some of us can remember the days before interstate highways and massive traffic slowdowns when a leisurely drive to a relative's house was as much about scenery as it was about getting places. Who cared if the highway weaved around curves and some hills were steeper than others? It was fun to see fields with cattle and sheep, and sometimes even a white hillside where turkeys and chickens roamed freely behind a fence.

Those were days when you could load up the station wagon and start out on the trip of a lifetime. Regardless of where you were starting from, the adventure would undoubtedly lead to parts of the country that you had only seen in books and magazines. From the east, west, north, or south, from the central plains, wherever it was you called home, there was a lot to be seen beyond your immediate area.

Just map out your itinerary to include places that you have always wanted to see and those that any traveling partners would enjoy. Drive through the cornfields of Indiana and Illinois, and the wheat of the Dakotas, Kansas, and Nebraska. Swing by that "new" arch structure called the Gateway to the West in St. Louis. They say you can even go up inside and view the whole city.

You can drive along the beaches of either coast, or into the mountains that spread throughout our country. You can enjoy the forests of evergreen or walk among the petrified trees of long ago. Sit on the banks of the Mississippi and you can almost see Tom Sawyer floating by on a raft. Climb the steps in Mesa Verde National Park and you sense the presence of the cliff dwellers who built their homes in the Colorado mountainside. On another mountainside in South Dakota, you can marvel at the danger and skill it took to carve the faces of four American presidents.

Using a little imagination, you can see Charles Blondin walking across the gorge just down from Niagara Falls. And it takes no imagination, just wonderment, to appreciate the color and beauty of the Grand Canyon.

All those places are still there, and you can still see them and enjoy them, but traveling has changed. If you still choose to travel any great distance by car instead of flying, most travel is done on interstate highways. And unless you can count seeing the World's Largest Buffalo along I--94 in Jamestown, North Dakota, or other tall, man--made structures, you don't see a lot. To get to those gems of scenery, you have to take a side trip. The old highway system went this way and that, connecting one small place to another, regardless of the hills that had to be climbed or the curves that had to be maneuvered. Interstate highways try to be the shortest distance between two points. They are straighter, less hilly, and, if necessary to accomplish their goal, will go right through the side of a mountain or under a water source.

But the highways are not the only things that have changed. People have changed as well. The simple wonders that surround us become hidden from our view by all of our modern necessities that we carry with us. We feel like we're interrupting something if we try to point out some beautiful scenic spot when the kids are listening to their CDs and the adults are watching a movie. Headphones in place, eyes closed, it's like: "Don't bother me with stuff outside. Just tell me how long before we get there."

We have become so disoriented that we confuse the distractions in our lives with the realities. What we might perceive as distractions are actually the realities. To a young person riding in a car, the beautiful scenery is a distraction to concentrating on the music. To a caring and concerned onlooker, the music is the distraction to the world.

Has our focus in life become "just getting there" instead of living it as we go along? Are we able to enjoy the scenery along the way or do we shut it out because we don't have the time to deal with it? Do we live only in the flesh, or do we allow God's Spirit to dwell in us?

The Greeks had a unique race in the ancient Olympic games. The winner was not the runner who finished first. It was the runner who finished with his torch still lit. In our journey through life, we have to pay attention to the fire, to make sure that it stays lit, and not just focus on the finish line. If we reach the finish, but our flame has already burned out, then we have not won the race.

To live in the Spirit enables the flame of life to keep on burning. To live in the flesh takes fuel from our flame, and eventually it burns out. As Christians we admit that the journey is just as important as the destination. Yet, even Christians are overcome by the distractions of the flesh, which not only attempt to put out the flame of the Spirit, but also try to block the road to our destination.

New York was playing the Milwaukee Braves in the World Series when Yogi Berra was the catcher for the Yankees. Hank Aaron was the chief power hitter for Milwaukee. As usual, Yogi was engaged in his ceaseless chatter, intended to pep up his teammates on the one hand and distract the Milwaukee batters on the other. As Aaron came to the plate, Yogi tried to distract him by saying, "Henry, you're holding the bat wrong. You're supposed to hold it so you can read the trademark." Aaron didn't say anything, but when the next pitch came he hit it into the left--field bleachers. After rounding the bases and tagging up at home plate, Aaron looked at Yogi Berra and said, "I didn't come up here to read."

Hank Aaron would not be distracted. He kept his mind, and his spirit, if you will, focused on the road ahead. And choosing that path led around the bases, time and time again. When Hank hit it out of the park, he didn't have to run those bases, he could walk them, enjoy them at his own pace, knowing he had accomplished what he set out to do.

That's how we should walk through life: enjoying the scenery as we go. We were not born into this world just to read about it or see it portrayed on television and in movies. We don't need headphones to hear it. We came to experience it.

Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev used to tell of a time when the Soviet Union was plagued with a wave of petty theft. To overcome the problem, authorities placed guards around the factories. At one lumberyard in Leningrad, the guard knew the workers in the factory very well. The first evening, out came Pyotr Petrovich with a wheelbarrow and, on the wheelbarrow, a great bulky sack with a suspicious--looking object inside.

"All right, Petrovich," the guard said, "what have you got there?"

"Oh, just some sawdust and shavings," Petrovich replied.

"Come on," the guard said, "I wasn't born yesterday. Tip it out."

Petrovich did as the guard demanded and out came nothing but sawdust and shavings. So he was allowed to put it all back again and go home. When the same thing happened every night of the week, the guard became frustrated. Finally, his curiosity overcame his frustration. "Petrovich," he said, "I know you. Tell me what you're smuggling out of here, and I'll let you go."

"Wheelbarrows, my friend," said Petrovich. "Wheelbarrows."

Sometimes the distractions in life veil our eyes to what is going on right in front of us: relationships fall apart, families break up, our work suffers, we fail to help those who need our help, and we forget the mission of the church.

Any of us more than forty years old can probably remember where we were when we first heard of President Kennedy's assassination in 1963.

British novelist David Lodge, in the introduction to one of his books, tells that he was in a theater watching the performance of a satirical revue he had helped write. In one sketch, a character was being interviewed. He listened to a transistor radio to show his indifference to the interview. The actor playing the part always tuned in to a real broadcast. Suddenly the announcement that President Kennedy had been shot came over the air. The actor quickly switched off the radio, but it was too late. Reality had interrupted the performance.

We worship ... we pray ... we read the Bible. But we do it casually. We don't always believe in the reality in which we're involved. We perform in front of others. But we don't really expect anything significant to happen. Then, when we least expect it, God breaks through. His presence overtakes us, and we remember that living in his Spirit is the reality. Everything else is just a distraction.

We were born into this world in the flesh. Through the baptism of Christ, we are reborn in the Spirit. As spiritual beings, the flesh becomes a distraction. But in Christ, it is a distraction that we can live with.

Enjoy the scenery in your journey through life. Don't be distracted by those things that would tempt you to believe anything other than that God's kingdom is a wonderful place filled with beautiful sights and lovely creatures.

Though we exist in the flesh, we live in the Spirit. Even as we live with the pain and discomfort our broken bodies might afford us, we walk in the Spirit of a new and better place. For it is only in the weakness of the flesh that we ultimately find our strength in the Spirit.

As we continue our journey toward Easter, may God grant you the ability to see all that he has laid out before you.