I went to lunch today with my co-worker Betty. Betty is a petite woman in her mid-fifties with a sweet, girlish voice and a delightful laugh. You wouldn't know it on first meeting her that she and her husband ride motorcycles or that she has a serious affection for sports cars. She told me today of all the different cars she's had in her life, almost all of them having been sports cars of one kind or another. Betty just recently got a silver 350Z. When we walked out to the parking lot today to go to lunch, she handed me the keys and asked if I wanted to drive. My eyes lit up like I was a kid again on Christmas morning beholding that beautiful green bicycle, complete with training wheels and new found freedom.
It was quite windy outside and raining, but inside the Z, I was in another world. The black leather seats warmed underneath me with the growl of the engine as I sped up and changed gears. (Side note: I have a secret love of cars with manual transmission - driving is so much more fun with the power to change gears at my fingertips.) Betty turned on the CD player to reveal the soundtrack of Top Gun. I grinned and turned it up loud. Now, I'm sure I looked like a complete idiot cruising along, singing aloud, bopping my head to the beat and grinning so widely that my cheeks hurt. But in my mind I had just been transported to the cockpit of a fighter jet, speeding along through the clouds, racing against the wind and soaking in the rain that pounded steadily against the windshield. Betty just kept giggling at me.
The thrill of driving that fast sports car on a dark afternoon in the rain with the sound of "Top Gun" in my ears lasted for several hours. I have a hard time not grinning even now as I remember it. But this evening, I've been thinking on the words of that song "Danger Zone" that keeps running through my head. I can't help but think of the dangerous roads I've wandered down in recent years, months, weeks, even hours. For example, last night I caught my mind wandering into memories of my past foolishness. This weekend I let myself swim in the depths of my frustration and dissatisfaction. And this evening, as I watched the film "Into the Wild" with my roommate, I found myself longing to leave everything behind and journey out into the world without looking back.
These are all dangerous highways. There were thrilling moments, to be sure, in the beginning. But the thrill usually wears off too quickly. I suppose life is a dangerous highway regardless of where you live or what you do. We're going to make terribly foolish mistakes no matter what. I am reminded of C.S. Lewis' Aslan, fiercely dangerous, yet full of goodness and rightness. I'm comforted to know that Jesus is like that, walking by my side even when I wander down lanes I shouldn't, picking me up when I fall, helping me learn from my mistakes and showing me where the real thrill of life is found: in following Him, on all six speeds.
Of course He isn't safe. Of course He isn't tame for goodness sake. God never promised me that I wouldn't have to live through scary things or that my own sin wouldn't be a danger to me. But he is good. This I know to be true. And I'm not the one behind the wheel, which is also a good thing. So I can be glad to be on this highway, even if it is dangerous at times.
(Photo by: Bill on Capital Hill)
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