I love to drive. In fact, I prefer driving over flying any day. If I’m alone, I will queue up a playlist. Sometimes it’s country. Sometimes it’s Christian. Most times it’s cranked. Loud.
I’m sure I’ve passed by a trucker or two who thought I was listening to Metallica. (When it’s usually just my dry bones rattling.)
My point is, I like the open road. And I like to be in the driver’s seat. I like to be able to chart my own course and choose my own speed.
Recently God showed me that’s kinda how I am with life, too.
I want to be in the driver’s seat to chart my own course and choose my own speed. But, when it comes to life, I’m not really in the driver’s seat at all. And, if I’m honest, that’s probably the biggest cause of my spiritual frustration.
I might throw it in drive and set out on the way. But God decides whether or not it’s a smooth, open road.
He might lead me to a road block because what lies up ahead isn’t good for me.
He might lead me by way of construction barrels because he wants me to pay closer attention.
He might lead me through harsh conditions because he’s trying to remind me of my fragility.
Or He might just slow me up in traffic because I’m getting a little too ahead of myself.
In any case, the journey of life is rarely a smooth, open road. And I’m rarely (okay, never) in control of it.
I do have choices, though. I can live life in a sort of perpetual road rage. Pent up because of my lack of control.
Or, I can crank the tunes and continue to sing. I can sing His praises at a road block. Through construction. In harsh conditions. Stuck in traffic.
That is where my “control” lies. In my decision to either sit back and let Him drive. Or fight Him for the wheel.
I haven’t mastered this yet. The whole “passenger” thing. But I’m trying.
I’ve been more than a little frustrated with the construction I’ve had to travel through lately — literally and figuratively. And I’m not digging the slower speed I’ve been forced to do either.
But… today I choose to crank the tunes and just accept the journey as it is.
Today I’m just a passenger… with dry bones rattling.
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