Driving

Some nights, I just need to go for a drive with God. In order to finally stop. And finally listen. And finally hear. And finally receive Love. And finally be gentle toward myself. And finally realize how much I’ve grown, how far I’ve come, how thankful I am. And finally say The Thing that’s underneath all the restless shuffling—the Thing I’ve been afraid to squeeze into words but once I do it’s such a sweet relief I wish I had it again to give, again and again.

Some nights, a drive with God becomes a holy, silent hour where the headlights and highway hums are chapel candles and compline prayers. Jesus in the passenger seat. He’s so humble like that. Never grasping for equality, never making much of Himself. He just sits there, King of All Things, smiling. So happy to be with me. So happy just to be with me. It’s the kind of unassuming love that gets caught in my windpipe, a big lump of need, needing just exactly that kind of love. But it’s hard to swallow, this beautiful, bold, bare love. His unashamed eagerness to love without requirement unveils me, makes me antsy. And that’s okay with Him. He will wait forever for my friendship. Until I’m happy just to be with Him, too.

Some nights, I drive somewhere for worship only to find that the noise and the crowd and the rush leaves no space for me as I am, another place I feel no place for me. And the loneliness starts to climb out of me furiously, emergency-exiting at last. And the Spirit is there, ready to catch all the little pieces that start breaking off. He’s so good like that, always comforting, protecting, giving me Life. Always dancing. Right into my darkness. And He lets me be. Be frustrated. Be wandering. Be inarticulate. He understands the language of groans. And when I’m grumbling that I drove all the way there and now all the way back for nothing, He’s whispering about how maybe it was the drive…have I thought about the drive?

Some nights, it is about the drive. The drive to get closer to Him that moves me off of the couch or onto my knees or into the car. Because I just want to spend time with Him but it doesn’t work like I planned until I realize that He just wants to spend time with me and now He’s worked out His plan to un-plan me. And those nights, I start to let go. I start to enjoy the drive. I stop waiting for the place I’m going to and begin to Be here now. That’s the magic moment when the veil drops and I see. I see that the cars are really people with lives and stories, that the world is really breathing for a Savior, that the work is really noticing not doing. And that I am really okay. I’m not driving to the store to get food to fill the ache, not driving into hopelessness, not driving over myself. I’m driving to a place- to any place- where I think He’ll be. I’ve started driving toward Him. Extraordinary. That’s the “height chart on the wall that hasn’t been checked in years” kind of growth. The kind of Wow Growth. And that’s when I am thankful to finally see. Where I really am. Where I’ve come from. Where I’m really headed. There are days when I don’t need the drive to see that. And those days are good. But some days, I need to take a drive with Him. And those days are good, too. Quite good.