Chances are that if you are driving to this June's general assembly in Indianapolis, you'll do so at least in part on Interstate 70. As America's "Main Street," it slithers along 2,165 miles from Baltimore to Cove Fort, Utah, slicing through the Appalachians, boring through the prairies, exhausting itself at the Rockies. I have lived dangerous portions of my life on I-70, trailing trucks, visiting family, driving kids to college, and pastoring three churches that rest on its perimeter. 

Along the way, my pulse has quickened as I've spotted Nazarene churches dotting the highway's edge in Mount Airy and Ellicott City, Maryland; Indianapolis; and O'Fallon and Wright City in Missouri. I've visited each of these churches for an oasis in the tedium of the drive. A recent visit to Indianapolis First Church stimulated my spirit. There, around the parking lot edge, a "prayer walk" is lined out, complete with prayer instructions and five rustic benches. The "Start/Finish" bench calls for praise, adoration, and thanksgiving. A tenth of a mile further, one confesses sins and mistakes. At the two-tenths mile bench, directly backed up to I-70, the participant is urged to pray for leaders in the church, city, state, nation, and world as well as for people passing on the interstate. The next two stops propose prayer for extended family, friends, and neighbors.

Of these, the prayer that most grabbed my attention was for those who travel the interstate! I do not know how many church members do the prayer walk or have prayed when I have frequently passed.

But I remember my personal history of precarious I-70 moments: four breakdowns and an accident when I collided with a deer. I recall the Mormon missionary who picked up my young family and drove us home 70 miles. Then there was the beer-guzzling couple with dirty laundry who took us 35 miles to get assistance. Next came the auto mechanic who reopened his repair shop to work on our car, and the Nazarene saint who loaned us the car that had hit the deer. His response to the accident was, "Don't worry—it's God's, not mine." Subsequently, a church funded repairs done by a Nazarene who then "ate" the expenses, handing me back the church's check.

Frankly, I do not know what connections may exist between these acts of protection and grace and the prayers offered on that bench in Indianapolis. However, the coincidences of kindness and care outpace probability. Just the thought that there on I-70, Indianapolis Nazarenes are quietly praying for my safety and my soul has transformed that traffic space into something sacred. How many of the 150,000-plus cars that speed past daily unwittingly share similar testimony!

As thousands of pilgrims converge for the general assembly, the incense of prayer will ascend for those journeying from a multitude of locations who will conclude their last miles on this freeway. The knowledge that this roadway will be saturated, not just with Nazarene travelers but also with intercession for each of us, gives me both comfort and peace.

Fletcher L. Tink is an urban missions specialist who has conducted urban and leadership training in 25 nations. He may be contacted at Tinkmetro@aol.com.

Holiness Today, May/June 2005

Please note: This article was originally published in 2005. All facts, figures, and titles were accurate to the best of our knowledge at that time but may have since changed.