Knowing it had more horsepower than any hot rod I’d ever driven, I fought the urge to step on the gas and see what it would do. I idled down the driveway and turned onto the long stretch of empty highway—palms sweating. I was nervous, fully aware that this was its maiden voyage.
It began its life as a 37’ Ford convertible, but I had replaced the antique running gear with a completely modern chassis. A high performance V8—born in a professional racing stable—bucked and snorted as it loped along, like a thoroughbred prancing sideways, fighting the jockey’s efforts to throttle her. She wanted to run!
Having built hot rods for years, I knew the first test drive required my complete focus on every mechanical detail. I had even taped a check-off list to the dash board:
- Check the brake pedal
- Check oil pressure at idle
- Watch water temp
And, prophetically, at the bottom it read:
- DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID!
I suffer from HFS (Heavy Foot Syndrome). Although I could patiently exert hundreds of hours crafting parts, massaging sheet metal and stitching upholstery, I struggled when it came time for the test drive. Dr. Jekyll often appeared, bent on spinning the rear tires into billows of white smoke. And so today, for this test drive, I knew I had to remain focused on my “to do” list.
There’s history to my caution: I once worked all night to finish a ‘32 Ford and without testing it convinced Marilyn, nine months pregnant at the time, to drive with me to Tennessee. That car scared the beezeebers out of us as it darted back and forth across the road, barely controllable. It wasn’t until days later, during a more careful inspection, that I sheepishly discovered I’d failed to tighten the steering mechanism—I could turn the bolts with my fingers!
Aware of my checkered past, I coached myself to “go easy” on this test drive. There is one minor detail I haven’t told you about: I had yet to fabricate the seat mounting brackets. With the engine running, I grabbed a nearby step stool and placed it squarely on the floor of the car, noting with confidence how the stool’s rubber foot pads gripped the floor board, “Yeah, that’ll work! I’m just gonna idle up the road and back…make sure everything is working OK.”
Enter Dr. Jeckyll. I can’t explain why… but as soon as the car was straight in the road, I stabbed the throttle. The V8 roared to life and the car launched like a rocket. The force of the acceleration pulled me backwards off the foot stool, leaving me hanging onto the steering wheel and forcing my right foot to the floor. The V8 screamed to full song, all systems were go! I was now sitting on the floor where the back seat should be, looking up at the sky. Near panic, I struggled to pull myself up, but the harder I pulled on the steering wheel, the harder my right foot pressed against the go pedal!
Gathering my senses, I stretched toward the ignition and killed the engine. Still unable to see over the dash, I slammed on the brakes and slid to a safe stop. Fortunately, all systems were working perfectly…except the driver’s seat.
You’re probably thinking—“What an idiot!” But the truth is, it’s easy to make a similar error in judgment when it comes to driving our own lives. Like many of you, I thought I was perfectly capable of steering my own life until powers and forces intervened that I wasn’t able to control. It’s during those times I have discovered that the Lord is the only One who can safely drive me home. Listen to this powerful expression by the Apostle Paul as he describes God’s incredible ability to steer us onto right paths without overpowering us—
“God can do anything, you know—far more than you could ever imagine or guess or request in your wildest dreams! He does it not by pushing us around but by working within us, his Spirit deeply and gently within us.” Ephesians 3:20 The Message
May I encourage you to pray and ask the Lord to be in the driver’s seat in your life today?
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.