“Honey, let me drive. I know you’re more tired than I am.” Pulling the vehicle off at the next exit ramp, my husband and I completed a record breaking “Fire Drill” to switch roles as driver and passenger. Oblivious to the switch, our girls slumbered peacefully in the back from a long visit at Grandma and Grandpa G’s.
Taking my new role on with care, I adjusted the mirrors, seat tilt position, pedal location, (my husband is 6’1 many inches taller than me), and snapped the seat belt into place. Checking both ways, I turned on my blinker signaling my intent to maneuver back off the edge of the road, up the ramp, and into the lane.
The drive remaining was roughly sixty miles of non-stimulating terrain almost like some parts of Nebraska, which is not a good combination if you have a wandering mind.
Passing several mile markers, my eyes slowly began to dance to the humming melody of tires on the highway. A few blinks here and there confirmed that I was still awake enough to drive and that I wasn’t too tired. At least that’s what I kept telling myself, but each mile passed seemed to lower my eyelids and extend the amount of time I spent checking to see if they worked. I turned on the air. I moved around in my seat and tried to stretch out my legs. I did everything I could possibly do to force my body to stay awake, but the outcome was inevitable. My eyes stayed closed. For how long, I have no idea, but at some point, my eyes instantly flickered back open as I was confronted with a nightmare-a concrete bridge entered directly into my line of vision and rested a mere 5 feet away from our vehicle. Swerving the car I miraculously avoided a life changing accident as our van jumped back onto the road. How it ever made it safely without hitting the concrete or another car only has one answer in my mind God’s hedge of protection.
The same incident can be compared to our Christian walk especially when we allow Satan’s lures to hook us in. Maybe we started off with a passion and fervor for Christ with a willingness to share our life changing experience.
We got up early every morning and started our day off right by spending time in His word or presence. Life was good. Then, life became busy. The one who use to drive our day has been asked to become a passenger instead, and the new driver (us) is doing their best to head in the same direction, but fatigue has set in. Eyelids are starting to droop and determination becomes using every force to try and stay awake, yet the temptation to sleep becomes greater than the desire to stay awake. We fall asleep at the wheel waking up wondering what just happened. How exactly did I end up here in this hotel room, the local bar, street corner making a deal, or continuously visiting revealing websites that stimulate my brain but leave me emptier and emptier. It all happened because we thought that we could do better at driving since we can determine how fast or slow we go especially knowing that God has only one speed His time. The truth is that we need to let go of the wheel and let God be in control of our lives. He knows the exact pacing that is perfect for us because he has created us. He desires for us to spend time with Him so he can give us pure wisdom in our lives.
If you are in a place that is going off road, headed north when you should be going south, or if you are caught up in detours, do not let that stop you from continuing or repairing your relationship with Christ. He wants you to pull over and ask Him for directions. He will not yell or scream at you for making a wrong turn. Yet, he may have you take out his road map to find out how to get back onto the road. However long it takes, he has a desire for you to get back to his home before you end up at the wrong house.
Ephesians 2:4-5But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ— by grace you have been saved—
Psalm 86:15But you, O Lord, are a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness.