Backseat

It’s been too long since I last took the time to write, and I can feel it. My thoughts are tumbling around in my mind all day and then they spill out at night when I’m attempting to sleep. So bear with me as I try to get out a little bit of what I’ve been thinking over the last month.
Awhile ago I was reflecting on what it was like to ride in the backseat of my parent’s van at night. For me, it was one of the best feelings in the world. I was snug in my child-safety seat, a long starry expanse of midnight stretching outside my window for my viewing pleasure, and my dad was at the wheel. Yes, there were annoyances like limited leg room, squabbles with my siblings, and the seemingly endless nature of road trips, but despite it all I knew this- I was safe. “Daddy” was at the wheel, he knew where he was taking us, he would get us to our destination, and above all, he would keep us safe. I never questioned any of this until I began driving. My driver’s ed. curriculum (and the requisite “Red Asphalt” video) informed me- in sterile, straightforward terminology- of nearly ever single thing that could possibly go wrong on the road. My overactive imagination took care of the rest. Suddenly, I could not ride in the car without worrying that one of the multitude of disasters I had learned about would happened. The worst time was one night when my family was driving back from dinner at some friends’ house about an hour from home. Part of the ride took place on a two lane, poorly-lit road with no center divide…and all of the ride took place after dark. Needless to say, I was a bundle a anxiety, fear, and desperate prayer in the backseat as I stared at the road ahead and tried to look out for oncoming traffic while simultaneously watching for any signs of drowsiness or inattention in my dad as he drove us home. All the enjoyment I had taken from night rides in the past was absent, and in its place was unadulterated fear.
I have come to realize over the past month that this scenario is scarily similar to the way that I relate to God at times. Trusting God with what he’s doing in my life is not my strong point as a Type-A, obsessive-compulsive control freak. Too often I go through life feeling like I did at sixteen in the backseat- I see everything that could go wrong, all the possibilities for danger, humiliation, failure, rejection, etc., rather than trusting Him with the childlike faith that He tells me to have. Why is it so hard to do that? Why is it so difficult to trust God with directing my life the way my child self trusted my dad to drive safely? Perhaps it’s because God is the great Conductor. He has the entire piece of music before Him, pages and pages worth, while I can see only one measure at a time if I’m lucky. Most of the time I’m living note to note. To me, a sudden key change can seem disastrous, but God knows that it’s necessary to get to the next, more beautiful movement of the piece. Moreover, the melody is constant- “For I know the plans I have for you…plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” That melody never changes throughout my life, or any of His children’s lives.
This has all been a stumbling attempt to say simply, we need to remember who we are. We are children of God. Children. He is our Father, and He is at the wheel. He knows what he is doing without a map or GPS system. No matter how dark the night may be, He knows where He is taking us, and He will get us there safely. He wants to know our worries and concerns, not so that He can navigate around some upcoming obstacle that He overlooked, but so that He can comfort us and put our worries to rest.
So buckle up, and let Him drive.