Earlier this year, I had the pleasure of returning to one of my favorite tennis tournaments, the BNP Paribas Open in Indian Wells, California. Nestled in the heart of a sleepy, sophisticated desert community, the ambiance and atmosphere is what makes the tournament so special, and ironically, not the tennis.
Granted, Indian Wells attracts the best players in the world, but at the end of the day, it’s not tennis that the players, fans, and media are talking about. It’s the beauty of the mountains, the relaxing pace, the refreshing coolness of the night desert air, and the lovely little personable towns of Palm Desert, La Quinta, and Indian Wells.
Out of the three communities I’ve grown to know and love, La Quinta rates as my favorite. For this southern gal, when I first heard the name, I immediately equated it to the hotel chain. Not quite.
La Quinta is home to several magnificent resorts, golf courses, Hollywood celebrity hideouts and hangouts, and restaurants that just make you say “wow” with raised eyebrows as you look at the wealth and money greeting you at every turn.
It was also in La Quinta that God chose to teach me a valuable lesson. Ordinarily, I’m not impressed by money. For me, a person matters so much more than how many zeros are posted in their bank account balance. But, I confess, it’s nearly impossible for me to not be influenced and regaled by the wealth and opulence of this desert community.
Or to covet and wonder what my life would be like if I lived there.
My drive to the Indian Wells Tennis Garden each morning is one of my favorite parts of the day, as it’s only about a ten minute jaunt with palm trees, desert fauna, and snow-capped mountains greeting me at every turn. It was during this time of day that God decided to send me a personal message.
I was sitting at a stoplight, waiting for the light to turn green, and staring into the gates of a beautiful golf resort as my mind began to drift. Thoughts of contentment, feelings of how this was the life I was meant to live overshadowed my brain. In those few moments of quiet, instead of paying attention to the scripture playing on my car’s stereo, I was daydreaming about my future status as a resident of a town such as this one. Needless to say, it was a rather pleasant day dream.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere, I was snapped back to reality. As I glanced at the car next to mine, I noticed a bumper sticker with four little words.
Not. Of. This. World.
Ouch.
It’s so easy to be entranced and enraptured by the things around us. And you know what, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with nice things. God is a God of beauty and he delights in seeing his children happy. But that happiness should stem from something much deeper—and from remembering that this is all just a mere glimpse of what’s to come.
To borrow from the words of the old hymn, this world is not my home. I really am just’a passin’ through. Instead of focusing on the temporary things, I need to focus on the eternal, the things that will stand the test of time . . . the Word of God and the souls of men.
It’s funny what God will use to teach his children powerful object lessons . . . . even a little bumper sticker.
