In a Pickle

Way back when – 1980, Worms, Germany, to be exact – my husband, young son, and I were once again at the beginning of an overseas assignment. We had become settled into government-leased housing in the small town of Horchheim on the outskirts of Worms. The commute to the military post where my husband worked and where all of the American facilities were located was not within walking distance. Also, we were expecting our second child, and my doctor and appointments were in Heidelberg, a forty-five-minute drive from us.
Image by WikimediaImages from Pixabay.

We decided a second vehicle was needed, and we opted to look for a pop top camping van so we could also use it for leisure travel while in Europe. Just like in the US, we had newspapers with a classified section advertising items for sale from various parts of the country and even beyond. My husband searched for a suitable van and eventually located a good deal in a place that was a couple hours away. We were fortunate to have neighbors that had quickly become good friends, and they watched our son Kris so we could both drive in the car we already owned, pick up the new-to-us VW, and each drive a vehicle home.

We headed out after my husband’s work day in the late afternoon. Our route included quite a distance on Germany’s equivalent to the US interstate system, the Autobahn. If you are not familiar, in terms of speed, just about anything goes on this superhighway. I’m not sure what infractions might incur a stop from the polizei, but if anything, it’s driving too slowly. At any rate, we made it to our destination in the Stuttgart area just fine. We picked up the new vehicle without incident and were actually quite happy with our van purchase. My husband had me drive the car since I was familiar with it, he drove the van to assess its performance, and the plan was for me to follow him home. It was getting dusky due to night approaching, but I was not concerned, certain I could keep up following an orange van; that is until the Autobahn. With the fast flow of traffic, we fairly much stayed in the right-hand lane, and we were making good time. There happened to be a slow-moving truck traveling in that lane (probably going 55 mph). My husband signaled to the left, and I followed him into the left lane. No problem, until my husband crossed back into the right lane and headed directly off an exit with no time for me to do the same. My stomach immediately turned upside down on top of my five-month tummy bundle. I got off of the next exit, which was quite far down the road. As I continued, the surroundings became more suburban, and I finally stopped in a residential neighborhood. By now it was dark; I felt stranded! I was fretting, sobbing, and wondering out loud how my husband could do that to me, and if I did call out to the Lord, it was to ask why this had happened. I was in a pickle – a dilemma, a predicament, a quandary. It is important to note that this was pre-cellphone, pre-GPS – even a good old paper map did not have this area marked out, and it was for me also, pre-relationship with Jesus. I had no resources to help me and no idea how I would get home or how anyone would find me.

Contrast that with the story in the New Testament featuring the apostle Paul and his relatively new traveling companion, Silas. Paul and Silas had been spreading the good news in the city of Philippi in Macedonia, and they were being followed by a slave girl who was practicing fortune telling through the power of a demonic spirit, and therefore she was a great source of income to her owners. She kept loudly announcing, “‘These men are servants of the Most High God, who proclaim to you the way of salvation'” (Acts 16:17b, ESV). Though this was absolutely true, Paul was annoyed by her continual declarations and he commanded the spirit to come out of her, which it did. Her owners were angered that now this form of income ceased, and they brought Paul and Silas to Roman leaders who beat them and threw them into prison. Paul and Silas were in a major pickle! Locked away in the inner part of the prison, feet chained in stocks and under heavy guard, these men could easily have been angry, fretful, crying, and questioning God as to why they were in such a dire situation when they were being his faithful servants. But here is how the story continues, “About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them,” (Acts 16:25, ESV). They were praising God in the midst of their troubles! They believed God would never leave them stranded, and God did not disappoint. Our amazing God, the faithful One, showed them his grace and power, “And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations of the prison were shaken. And immediately all the doors were opened and everyone’s bonds were unfastened” (Acts 16:26, ESV). Paul and Silas were freed from their shackles, had the care and hospitality of their former jailer, and they were able to go back to their friends, but not before they had the glorious opportunity to witness to the jailer and his household to see them all come to Christ. As incredible as this story is, we have the same opportunity to see God work in our lives as we pray to him, trust him, and praise him just for who he is! Likely the rewards will be great and the circumstances will convert into a platform for glory and honor to our benevolent God.

I can share that I eventually did find my way home by traveling quite out of the way to a place with which I was acquainted and from which I knew the roads to bring me back to Horchheim. I believe that now as a Christian, if I find myself in another pickle, I will pray to and praise my great God who is my resource for everything, who will never leave me stranded, and who has all the answers for the dilemmas that can be a part of life. On that note, I’ll gratefully enjoy a cup of tea and a small dessert, because I just had my dinner, pickle included.

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