Preacher. That's what he said his name was, so that's what I called him. I had picked him up on an exit ramp along the interstate. He was looking for a ride. I was looking for someone to keep me awake on a long trip home. The old man had a white beard, a weatherworn face with enough wrinkles to resemble an atlas map. He got into the car, carrying a book under one arm and a duffel bag with the other.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Sonny boy, I've been around the block a time or two and I'm hoping to get to Jesus when it's all said and done. In the meantime, can you get me to Wichita?"

"You bet," I said. "And tell you what, if we spot Jesus along the way, I'll pull over. How does that sound?"

"Too good to be true," he chuckled.

Looking straight ahead, the preacher started in: "Yep, I've been around, son. Seen it all. When I was about your age, I went out east to Princeton hoping to get smart. I got so smart I had ivy growing on my brain. Studied everything under the sun - philosophy, biology, criminology. They gave me a special gown and sent me away with the highest honors."

I thought to myself: Princeton! Highest Honors! How can someone graduate summa cum laude from Princeton and end up thumbing for rides? I better visit the Career Planning and Placement Center when I return to campus next fall.

"So what did you do after that?" I asked.

"I made a paper airplane out of my diploma and moved on. What's the use of all that knowledge, I asked myself. The more you know, the more trouble it is. You know too much about life's problems and too little about life's solutions. Might as well be a high school dropout.

"So . . . after indulging my mind for four years at college, I decided it was time to indulge my body. I became a hedonistic vagabond strutting through the night life of the big cities. It was like I woke up on Bourbon Street and went to bed on Sunset Boulevard. Women everywhere. Lots of parties. Wine and spirits, my friend. Lots of wine and spirits."

"Lots of headaches, too, I imagine," I said.

"You better believe it. I was living in a fool's paradise. They call it 'the good life.' They say, 'It doesn't get any better than this.' Well, take the advice of an old-timer: It does get better, my friend. You can't hide an elephant in your closet by getting drunk and messin' around, if you know what I mean."

Uh . . . I think I do, except for that bit about the elephant," I said.

"You can't get rid of your emptiness with a six-pack or a new lady, or by sitting in front of the idiot box all night. You can only distract yourself with toys for so long. To get rid of an elephant, it doesn't help to move the creature from the kitchen to the bedroom closet."

"No, I guess it doesn't, does it? So what did you do next?"

"Well, I hadn't learned my lesson yet, so I went chasing after something else. After a two-year hangover, I followed a cousin up to Wall Street and discovered the world of high-dollar finance. You talk about a rush. Energetic investors running all over the place barking out 'buy,' 'sell.' I got pretty good at it, made a ton of money, built a couple of nice homes and bought some flashy cars. I determined that if life was a possession, I was going to buy it."

"Did you get your money's worth?" I asked.

"Hardly. My money increased, but so did my appetite. I always wanted more. And more was never enough. The greed got to me."

Over the next few hours, the preacher told me more of his life's story. He passed on lessons he had learned the hard way, his disillusionments, his disappointments.

I had a hunch where this was all headed. I said, "So let me guess. Somewhere along the way you got religion. Let's see…you went off and joined a monastery. You gave up wine and sex. You renounced pleasure. Uh…you learned to speak in somber tones. You got rid of a '57 Chevy because it looked too shiny. And now you are living happily ever after. Am I right?"

"No, young fellow. Not exactly," he laughed. "I never once abandoned my pursuit of pleasure. I went after it harder. I discovered the cheats and the detours and the dead ends. And then I learned to love the pleasure that comes from God's own hand. He is the one who gives us honor and riches and seafood and sex and petunias and hands and feet and sunsets. He not only gives us the gifts; He gives us the capacity to enjoy these gifts. So I sought pleasure from Him and I sought Him.

"And that part you mentioned about living happily ever after, well…there's a lot I still can't figure out. I don't understand why good people get hit by stray bullets. It makes no sense to me that the violent escape their violence and the victims endure such pain. But I do know this: life isn't something we control. We don't take it by the horns and ride without falling off. It all makes sense to God, even if it doesn't make sense to me. He'll sort everything out when it's all said and done. In the meantime, I say we fear God, do what He says, eat our bread in happiness, drink our wine with a cheerful heart and do our work with gusto. That is a good life before God."

We came to the preacher's destination. As he was getting out of the car, he thanked me for the ride, and over the roar of highway traffic I could hear his final word to me, "Remember your Creator while you're young."