When I first got my license, I liked to drive. Everywhere. Even when my sister, Christina got her license, I would be the one to drive to school every morning. I liked the control of being in the driver’s seat. I liked not having to worry about my sister’s inexperience, because, well, I had been driving for longer, and I therefore knew more than she did.
I also liked driving the vehicle of my life everywhere I went. God was in the passenger seat, but really, do drivers listen to their passengers all the time? Not always. Only for directions, I guess. I mean, God had the roadmap of my life, but he wouldn’t let me see it. I had a pretty good idea of what it looked like in my head, anyway, so I guess I didn’t need everything on his map.
Even after ending up in the ditch…multiple…times, I thought that I was a decent driver. I mean, everyone gets in some sort of accident, right? I never rear-ended anybody or hit another car, so therefore, I was the only one affected. And I can handle that.
I have come to realize that I…was…wrong. I mean, I never took drastic routes that needed detours that took me completely away from where I was, but I wasn’t following God’s path how he intended me to. Though I thought that me, going in the ditch, only affected me, I was wrong there, too. Who got me out of the ditch? My parents. Who fixed the dent I put in the mini-van when I hit a pole? My parents. God is my Father who can help and fix all my mistakes; who can make it better and make sure I won’t go in the ditch again. And even when I do, he’s right there to help me out and make it better again.
I have come to realize that even though I liked organization and having everything planned out in type-A formation, God’s way is even more organized and it is perfect. Though I can’t see the roadmap he’s holding, I trust that it is correct. Trying to figure out the best way to take when you don’t really have a clue is worrisome and stressful. “Don’t worry about it,” God keeps telling me. “I got it!”
I have let God take the wheel and have sat in the passenger seat, where I feel much more comfortable, anyway. Even here, I have become the “only when needed” driver. I mean, I share a car with Christina, but I don’t even LIKE driving sometimes. When Christina starts getting tired or one of my friends don’t even have a working vehicle, I will drive. I trust the driver of the car I am riding in. Okay, so sometimes, I want to drive, but most of the time, I’m alright with not.
Same applies with God, I guess. I trust him at the wheel of the car. Yes, sometimes I want to drive, and he lets me, even though he knows I will make a mistake. But he is right there, waiting for me to ask for help and give the wheel back to him. And so I surrender the wheel, because I’m no driver compared to God.
Who is driving your car?
2 thoughts on “Vehicle of Life”