Driving is my final bastion of freedom. I’m so proud of my hand controls and the independence they afford. Why then, do I often lose my Christianity when I get behind the wheel?
I was turning on to a freeway onramp this morning and some little princess thought I was turning too slowly, so she darted around me and passed me on the right. I mumbled a few choice words under my breath as I accelerated and tried to prevent her from cutting me off. That’s what any red-blooded American would do, right?
I feel the same sense of injustice as I wait patiently in the exit lane while some hotdog cuts in front of me at the last second, causing everyone else to slam on the brakes.
Have you ever watched six year olds line up for lunch? Don’t you dare cut.
Injustice. It’s not fair.
Driving is my physical even-playing field. I don’t feel less than or disadvantaged when I pull up next to you. In fact, I feel pretty bad ass and hope you notice that I’m driving with my hands.
When I walk next to you, I’m different. I can’t step over a curb, run up a hill, or walk through the sand. I’m limited. I sometimes feel a twinge of sadness or frustration, but it passes quickly and I pay little mind.
Driving is different. My feathers ruffle when I feel slighted. My emotional filter is nonexistent. I lose my Christianity. I lose sight of what matters. I lose perspective when my mind wanders from Christ.
Life is unfair and that’s ok. Christ didn’t come so I could have a fair life. He came so that I may have an abundant life. And indeed it is. My life is extravagant in all things that matter.
I’m Forgiven and Free and learning to drive with gratitude and grace