Sit back and enjoy the ride



Freeway tunnel ahead! Inflate lungs, assemble Iron-man face, and valiantly hold your breath unto the end—or at least longer than your brother. 


In the earliest years of my life, we lived in Duluth, where I first learned the art of tunnel-breathing. Or should we say, not-breathing. Tunnels were so much fun. Every time our clunky grey Oldsmobile slipped underneath the tunnel entrances, I felt like I was being swallowed up by a dragon. Inside, the world transformed into a dark race against time, cheered on by those nifty lights on the walls. But the high point of tunnel, of course, was at the end— how soon that glorious burst of sunlight appeared was a key factor in proving who had the best lung capacity.

Apparently, this superstitious tunnel not-breathing lasts into adulthood for some. Approximately one month ago, my college choir and I arrived via ferry in the port of Dublin. After we breezed through customs and hopped on a coach bus to head to our hotel, our driver took us through what must have been the Dublin Tunnel. When our bus first entered the tunnel, I barely noticed. Too tired to join in, I watched, amused, as my colleagues stuck their hands up on the bus roof and tried to outlast each other. This was probably one of the only quiet moments on our European tour (why else would over-dramatic singers stop talking?). But I became more alarmed as the tunnel kept going. And going. I started feeling almost claustrophobic. This tunnel was long—approximately 2.8 miles, as it turns out—and the light I expected to appear within seconds just didn’t come.  Somehow I mentally shoved my irrational anxiety under my seat and leaned back to wait it out. It was a relief when we finally emerged; I quickly dismissed the tunnel in the pursuit of photographing the beautiful Irish scenery.

However, that brief ride through the Dublin Tunnel has since morphed into a life lesson for me. The end of my first bachelor’s degree is in sight. Hooray, right? I used to think that graduation was the proverbial “end of the tunnel,” but I’m starting to think otherwise. Life has only gotten murkier as I get older. Adult responsibilities are nagging, people are changing, and post-graduation decisions are knocking incessantly. Not to mention ordinary decisions, like: how much coffee consumption can I handle today, what edition of that music do I need, or how can I help that hurting friend. When I’m looking for an expected “light,” the immediate answer to all my questions, and all I can see is chaos, I get anxious. Claustrophobic.

But it’s hit me—I’ve been looking at it all wrong. I've been measuring life "by sight" (rather, what I can't see) instead of "by faith" (in an object of trust, such as the driver). Obviously, in traveling through the Dublin Tunnel, I had no logical reason to panic. The driver knew what he was doing and where he was taking us. Besides, the tunnel simply was not going to last forever.

This tunnel of life won’t last forever. And hey, I know how it ultimately ends—in eternal life. How do I know? Because my "driver," Jesus Christ, promised that (1 John 2:25) based on His sacrifice on my behalf. My ultimate destination is secure, paid in full by the blood of Christ, and His love won't change on the trip there, either. (Romans 8:39) 

What's my responsibility? To just sit back and enjoy the ride. To "abide" [remain in, rest in] His love (John 15:9). He has me right here, right now, for a purpose—probably one greater than self. He’s put specific people in my life right now for a reason. If he wants me somewhere else, He can open the doors to make that happen. I don’t have to know how long the route is or even glance at the short-term itinerary, because my driver’s got that covered.

Easy, right? Nope. Sitting back takes trust, and a willingness to release control. But is it the best option? Absolutely. There is no better driver than the God of the universe.
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight." 
- Proverbs 3:5-6, NIV

Comments

  1. KateJune 20, 2014 at 11:16 AM

    Thanks so much for this well-written reminder to walk by faith, not by sight, friend! The tunnel metaphor reminded me of one of my favorite quotes from Corrie Ten Boom: "When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don't throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer." So thankful that we can trust His promise that the morning will come after the night (Psalm 30:5). Our "tunnels" never last forever, but it is there that our faith is tested and the Lord molds us further into His image.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Allison BessJune 29, 2014 at 11:07 PM

      I also love that quote! Thanks for the reminder.

      Delete

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