Riding the Rumble Strips

Have you ever been driving in your car, physically exhausted and/or mentally disoriented, and found yourself riding the rumble strips on either the middle or the side of the road, not being able to get off of them? I remember I was driving one night a couple summers ago at two in the morning, and was having this exact experience. I actually got pulled over; and the policeman, bless his heart, didn't believe me when I said I wasn't intoxicated.

But that is of no consequence.

As I have been going about my day today, I've been thinking about how my life might look to someone on the outside--someone who regularly asks how my day has been and rarely receives a sparkling response. Some days I'll have a great conversation or hear a perspective-giving insight, and consequently be a bundle of joy.  Other days will feel like I'm drinking from the bottom of the three-day-old coffee carafe in hopes of finishing the sequence of daily events without melting into a puddle of semi-existence. 

I know I'm extreme. Will I excuse my extremities because of my personality type? Yes. However. If I thought that this general up-and-down pattern of life was unique to me, I probably wouldn't share it with this blog's readership. But. I can proceed with fair confidence that we are all in the same boat together. Some might be hanging out on the prow of this boat, some might be on the stern of this boat, but nobody is (yet) standing on solid ground. At one time, we all stand on the deck, bathe in a gorgeous sunrise and sing until our voices refuse to cooperate during a mind-shattering sunset. There are also the times when we will get rocked. We will get tossed. We even might get thrown overboard, but not without a life-preserver. 

I remember when I was seven or eight, watching my parents talk with their friends about theology, and God, and what they were learning, and that they always seemed to have it together. I used to think that I wished I loved God all the time. I explicitly remember thinking to myself that I couldn't wait until I was a dad and was married and had kids so that I would finally have some stability. I actually thought that. 

HAHAHAHAHA.

We are a crumbling people, whether or not you have decided to believe in the Gospel. It doesn't matter how tough you are. It doesn't matter how good of a driver you are. There will come points when you, though you can't help it, are unable to stop driving on the rumble strips. There will always be days when that three-day-old coffee carafe is your only friend in your attempt to merely stay awake.

And that's ok. You know how I know? 

I once watched a movie in which the religious leader is in conversation with a college-aged guy who is right there with me, riding the rumble strips. The religious leader advises:

Son, in all my eyars of theology studies, I have come to the harsh conclusion that there are only two truths I know for sure. There is a God. And I'm not Him.

I can run on fumes; I can be dangling from the starboard bow; I can be riding on the rumble strips; I can be ok. 

Because He's God, and I'm not.

It's a nice reminder to remember that my constant head-butting with life is (among many other things) due to the fact that I am not deity. I am finite. I am helpless. I am weak. I am poor. I am a beggar. 

And He loves me the same, not letting me fall, crying with I hurt, rejoicing when I'm happy.

As usual, there are many more things to say about this. For words' sake, I will stop here. I just want to affirm that there indeed are times when we hit rock bottom... and then we stay there... and then we can't seem to get out. The rumble strips seem much wider than we might have previously thought.

I'll finish with this quote from an ex-roommate of mine after a dynamite time of pray with him today:

That's worship: pouring out your heart before the Lord like a little helpless kid.

He's got me. He's holding me. If you're His child, He's holding you too.

Join me in the journey of recognizing our not-god-ness. It's going to be a journey that lasts until eternity ends.

.DSN.