car talk

Whatever happened to the still small voice, I ask you? That inkling in your heart or spirit or your gut that jingles, "this is the way, walk ye in it" and you just know that you know, you have been spoken to and you need to follow that directive? I haven't heard God like that for a LONG time, I think. My part of the conversation certainly hasn't been of the still, small voice variety for quite a while. Screaming out into the empty foothills where I hike, listening to my voice echo off the canyon walls, I have tried the direct route. I am pounding on the door and throwing rocks at it. Anything to get a response. But the response I am getting is altogether weird. I am not "getting a word" or a scripture or having my Bible fly open to some passage I need to read particularly badly; none of that. I think God knows I am fed up with religious crap. In fact, lots of the response is just big, fat, wide open space. Empty, clear blue sky, and sunshine. There's a lot to ponder there. But it's not that part that seems curious to me. The truly bemusing part is his car talk.

I received my car from a church, a very generous church, when I came back from the UK. The title was signed on the back, "Gift". And so it was. The car has a name: Spirit. No kidding. I own a 1990 Dodge Spirit. A holy roller car, for sure. (I could feel some sort of celestial grin already coming on from God from the very beginning of my history with this vehicle.) Once the Gifted Spirit came fully into my possession and I was on the road, this very average, old American car, (FYI: I am not the American car type...meaning, bring on a Toyota or -- dream of dreams -- a Volkswagen or a Volvo, but NOT an American petrol sucking, emissions spewing car!), well, it began to talk to me. I didn't hear it at first. In fact, it's been talking me to me for over a year now, and I think I just understood it yesterday for the first time. And once heard, I am getting all the other nuanced messages from the past year.

I have had a persistant problem since I got my Spirit: the rearview mirror falls off and off and off. I have tried SuperGlue, industrial tape, new mounts, spit and cursing. Nothing will make this mirror stick. I finally relegated it to the front seat and call it my Makeup Mirror, perfect for those last minute touch-ups. I have had to spend a significant amount of time in my car this year, and not having my makeup mirror do its real job has been a PITA. But yesterday, driving home from Denver, minus mirror, I finally got it. Constantly looking backwards can be a really stupid thing, especially in heavy traffic. I don't need a rearview mirror, necessarily. In the Purgatorio, Dante has this fantastic punishment for those with the opposite problem...diviners who attempt to manipulate the prophetic, always seeing into the future, and so end up, compliments of the Almighty, with their heads screwed on backwards, negotiating the road to hell. I wonder what sort of trouble I might be in for always looking over my shoulder? Hmmm. I am paying attention now, and I think I am not in danger of some hellish punishment, but rather I feel some serious reassurance that now is what I need to keep my focus on. The past can dearly mess up your present if you pay too much attention to it.

The Control Panel. Very unreliable. Fuel gauge, speedometer, temperature gauge, oil gauge, and odometer, none of them works accurately, so I play a perpetual game of What's behind door number two, Bob? Are those fumes in my tank or do I have a full tank of gas? Thankfully, no major incidents have resulted. But again, a message comes to me: don't trust all the gauges...the way things look...being in control. Know what's under the hood and take care of it, and you'll keep ticking along. You'll be all right. So maybe I don't need to worry so much about all these rejections I am getting from employers, my mood swings, the living-with-my-parents stigma I feel so keenly, the Loser complex I fear will permanently blight my life, perhaps it WILL all turn out okay, former missionary will make good. So, okay, God I will do what I can to take care of what's under the hood.

You know, I laugh at those highlight Bible moments like when the disciples are out on the Sea of Galilee in their boat, right after the big bread and fish fiesta, and they're wondering what's for lunch, freaking out that they forgot to bring along snacks. Jesus must have groaned and pulled his hair. But if I laugh, I am laughing at myself, too. God's been talking to me for a whole year, just a few basic principles, a few simple lessons. Such simple words, but they wrap up my little package quite nicely. God is at work in my life, no matter how much I feel like denying it, and He's serious about these object lessons, and He seems to be serious about not giving up on me. So for the time being, I will rest content in that and will fire up the Holy Spirit each day, listening for more.

"Speak, for your servant is listening."