Updated on March 22, 2018
Driving Lessons
I didn’t know there were two left turn lanes. It never occurred to me that the MARTA bus in the next lane was going to turn with me when the arrow switched to green. Turning left while driving my Dad’s big ole Oldsmobile was hard enough, but avoiding an enormous bus and staying balanced within those two white lines? Well, I hadn’t really gotten the hang of that yet.
Somehow, disaster was narrowly avoided. But the story of the time I nearly got us all run over by a MARTA bus lives on forever in family lore. I was fifteen at the time and to this day if my Dad is in the car with me, he will remind me that both lanes are turning left and I need to stay in my own lane. Yeah. And watch out for MARTA buses.
Memories of my own driving lessons are coming back to me lately as we walk into this next chapter of life with our oldest. And I wonder: how does one rightly impart this knowledge? I have to work hard to remember how I learned. What did it feel like not to know how to drive? How did I learn to keep my car in my own lane? I drive so much these days that the car is like an extension of my body.
But what did it feel like when I didn’t know how to do it?
This oldest of ours has spent years watching and critiquing our driving from the back seat. He’s driven around the church parking lot; raced go-karts and golf carts and bicycles. So, he’s pretty sure he’s got this.
But, he’s never encountered a MARTA bus. I tell him the story of my near-death experience, again. And again.
This driving thing? It isn’t all straightaways and fast breaks. It’s stops and starts, unexpected curves and watching out for the other guy. It’s learning how to make that turn while staying in your own lane. And always, always keeping your eyes on the road ahead.
And not one second of it is as easy as it sounds.
As we walk through these last weeks of Lent, and into some of the holiest days of the year, my thoughts about driving lessons begin to mingle with Scripture lessons and I find Jesus right in the middle of them.
Jesus, who never drove a car, but who knows what it means to lock your eyes on a final destination and never veer off course.
Jesus, the ultimate teacher of students who didn’t get it. Those disciples of his followed him everywhere and like good backseat drivers, they spent years hollering out instructions. But Jesus was leading them toward a destination they couldn’t picture … yet.
And the people, the very ones he came to save, they thought they had a clue about his purpose. Surely he had come to be their king. Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the Name of the Lord!
But.
Jesus sat atop a donkey; his eyes fixed on a hill where he would hang on a cross for the sake of their hearts. He wept over his Beautiful City and its distracted people. But, he stayed on course. The people couldn’t see where they were headed, but he could.
And when Peter, certain that he understood what was happening proclaimed that he would go too, “I am ready to go with you to prison and to death.” Jesus stayed in his lane and explained that’s not exactly how it would work. The road to the cross had to be walked alone. This was work that only he could do. He would teach his Father’s love with his life.
Because you see, God knows there are some great lessons we can learn from reading books. I had read in the driver’s manual that there could be two left turn lanes next to each other. But until I nearly careened into that MARTA bus, I didn’t get it.
We don’t become drivers by reading a book. It is necessary and useful, but it’s the actual driving that gets inside of us and trains our reactions; sharpens our instincts.
We learn to drive by driving.
And we learn to live by living. God wanted to show us how it works. In many times and in various ways he had spoken to his people through the prophets and the law. God had sent his people his words. They read the words. They tried to understand.
But they didn’t get it. Sometimes the words are hard for us to get, too.
So in these last days, he sent his son. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us (John 1:14).
Jesus came to show us how to navigate this place we inhabit. He came to live out the words so that we would finally get it; so that we would get … him. God so loved the world that he sent his one and only Son …
But, it wasn’t how the people thought salvation would come.
Take up your cross and follow me. It isn’t how we expect it to come either. The lessons I learn in Lent, again and again, are that I need help to see where I am going.
I need to be reminded that I don’t know everything.
I need a Savior who doesn’t just impart knowledge but who comes and stands in the day right next to me. One who whispers: I know you can’t see how this is supposed to work. I know these roads are unfamiliar. But keep your eyes on me. Stay in your own lane. And drive on. Wherever this road leads — I AM right here.
As Ronald Rolheiser says in his book A Holy Longing, “The Word did not just become flesh and dwell among us — it became flesh and continues to dwell among us.”
So as Lent comes to a close, may we all begin to become drivers who know exactly where to put our eyes — even when MARTA buses try to knock us out of our lanes.
Amen.
So good, Leigh. And in my book Take My Hand Again I wrote about the other end of the driving experience–when someone has to tell you that it’s too dangerous for you to drive any more. Drivers beginning or ending can find help and comfort in the Lord.