“But the Counselor, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you” (John 14:26)
My pleasant daydreaming came to an abrupt end as the police car turned around and followed me. Recognizing that fact, I decided to slow down. Then those annoying, flashing lights reflected in my rear-view mirror. I pulled to the side of the road and wished my glasses were on my face instead of in my purse.
“Yes, officer?” I rummaged through my purse in search of my driver’s license. When successfully retrieved, I fumbled around the glove compartment for the registration.
“I know it’s here, somewhere.” I smiled. “Ah!” I might as well have said “Eureka!”
The officer had not been impressed by my diligent efforts to find my documents. He glanced at the wrinkled registration. “Do you know why I pulled you over?”
I didn’t think it wise to play a game of truth or dare. “Was I going too fast?” He nodded disapprovingly. “Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.”
He looked at me as if I’d just come off the boat. “Don’t you have cruise control?” Now the truth is that I dislike using cruise control about as much as I detest eating Lima beans. “I forgot to set it.”
I would have been less embarrassed if the officer had been a few decades older. “I have mine on all the time. I have a heavy foot, too.” He thought he was being polite. I let it go. He had the gun. I accepted the ticket with as much grace as I could muster, grateful he hadn’t added an extra one for operating a vehicle while vision impaired.
After the officer drove away, I sneered at the cruise control dial. Now I would have to add this feature to my ever-growing list of adaptations. Life changed too quickly. When I first learned to drive, cruise control meant curfew.
As I folded the summons and tucked it away, I felt the Lord nudge me in my spiritual ribs. I thought I heard Him say, “These controls are for your benefit.”
You don’t mean the car, right? You’re talking about my soul?
I didn’t quite understand the analogy, but I was not in a position to argue with the Lord anymore than I had been with the police officer.
“First, there are the flashing lights. Do you think the police use them to frighten you?”
I suppose the lights were his way of getting my attention.
“So, you see, in order to talk to you, I first have to get your attention. Understand?”
Well, God certainly had my attention now.
“Let’s consider your license and registration. Why do think they are important?”
It seemed the connection might be deeper than simple identification.
“They represent that driving is a privilege, and it came with a price. I gave you my one and only Son for the privilege of calling me Father. Does that mean so little that you toss Him aside and don’t call for Him unless you are in trouble?”
I vowed to keep better track of my driving documents. But, God had not finished this segment of my education. “Now, where were your glasses?”
I knew where they were, I just didn’t bother to wear them.
“How can they be of use to you if they are hidden in your purse? I have given you my Word to show you how you must live. It is my roadmap to salvation. But if you refuse to use it, you will wander, hopelessly lost.”
I squirmed with revelation, but God had one more point. “Now, what is the real reason you refuse to use your cruise control?”
I don’t like being reigned in like a horse. I want freedom.
“Did your freedom help you to be obedient? Or did you yield to temptation?”
Put that way, I had no defense.
“I have given you my Holy Spirit to corral your bent toward sin. He is the cruise control to your Faith, whether you are traveling against heavy winds or steep hills.”
I think I’ve got it. These gifts—your presence, your Word, and your Holy Spirit—serve as my cruise control panel for the road of life.
“I knew you’d catch on with a little help. Now as you say, also do.”
As I drove away, I retracted my glasses from their futile reservoir and never drove without cruise control again.
Bio: Award-winning author, LINDA RONDEAU, writes for the reader who enjoys a little bit of everything. Her stories of redemption and God’s mercies include romance, suspense, the ethereal, and a little bit of history into the mix, always served with a slice of humor. Walk with her unforgettable characters as they journey paths not unlike our own. After a long career in human services, mother of three and wife of one very patient man, Linda now resides in Florida where she is active in her church and community. Readers may visit her web site at http://www.lindarondeau.com./
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