Like most boys, I dreamed of becoming a licensed driver. I rolled it over the tongue of my imagination, savoring its flavor. Finally the day arrived and I was about to step out on my own, authorized by the State of Ohio as a legally licensed driver. I was street legal!
Even now I can feel the chill of the keys as they tumbled from Dad’s reluctant grasp into my outstretched hand. Hearing impaired by the pulse pounding in my head, Dad’s last-minute warnings whiffed past their intended target and floated to the kitchen floor unheeded.
I hit the screen door at full stride, causing its flimsy wood frame to smack the side of the house. The rusty spring, tired and overstretched from a million calls to duty, groaned in protest as it swung the door back with a loud SLAP!
As I hit the sidewalk and headed for the driveway I had to coach myself to “Walk—Don’t Run.” I don’t know if it was testosterone or sixteen years of subconscious angst that propelled me forward. Maybe it was a blend of both that caused me to cast aside any semblance of dignity, replacing it with something that could only be described as giddiness. My dependence on others for transportation faded in the rearview mirror as I escaped the gravitational pull of home.
It was more than simply the thrill of being a new driver; it was the thrill of being in control. After all, I had several years of driving experience under my belt by the time I had received my license. We were country folk who always left the keys in the ignition. Dad would say, “You just never know when a neighbor might need to borrow the car.”
If you’re a faithful reader you may recall that at the ripe old age fourteen, I commandeered by brother’s new Corvair, rolled it several times and left it a demolished heap on Schwilk Road. That day I discovered firsthand that GM’s new rear-engined compact was indeed Unsafe At Any Speed (just as consumer advocate Ralph Nader had been warning the Congress and Senate). But then, imagine we’d all agree that any car in the hands of a fourteen year old is unsafe at any speed, right?
You’re probably thinking, “OK, this story is going to turn ugly; he’s gonna wreck the first time out with his license.” Well, relax because you’d be wrong. Shoot, it was several weeks before I had my next accident!
Here’s the truth about my first independent outing as a licensed driver: I couldn’t wait to launch out on my own, but no sooner had I left the driveway than I realized I didn’t have anywhere in particular to go! I just wanted to go. It wasn’t fear that came on me, but there was a definite feeling of hesitation. I drove a few miles, carefully executed a four-point turn in the parking lot of the North Berne Tavern, and motored home without incident.
Although I was anxious to feel independent, I wasn’t ready to be independent. And now, years later, I’m convinced no one can ever be truly independent. We rely on God for the very air we breathe as well as our next heart beat. Growing up in the Lord confirms that we were never built to be truly alone… truly independent.
Isaiah, a crusty old prophet who lived thousands of years ago put it best this way,
“Who out there fears GOD, actually listens to the voice of his servant? For anyone out there who doesn’t know where you’re going, anyone groping in the dark, Here’s what: Trust in GOD. Lean on your God! Isaiah 50:10
I encourage you to acknowledge your need for the Lord. Be honest enough to admit, you can’t go it alone and that you need His help 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.