The Emergency Brake

     When I turned sixteen, my Nani undertook the task of teaching me to drive what he labeled his “Machine”.   We spent many off hours circling the Sears parking lot.   When Nani felt my skills were adept enough to merit a license, he proudly escorted me to the DVM.   Let’s just say, it was not a good day!!!

     Had I not been so frustrated, I would have been more sympathetic to Nani’s being personally affronted when I announced, “I flunked”!!!   My failure was so egregious, the examining officer accompanied me back to Nani’s side.   Being highly (and directly) offended, Nani took his close proximity to the offender to air his high opinion of my driving skill.   To which to examiner responded, “Sir, her driving didn’t fail her.   Her parking did.   SHE CAN’T PARK.”  

     As a tennis ball volleyed back and forth, I stood there with my fractional driving skill being slammed back at my complete parking deficiency, and vice versa.   The match ended with Nani shoving me into the driver’s seat of his “Machine” while shouting over his shoulder, “It’s a driving test not a parking test.”

     Goes without saying, I’m not, even today, known for my parking.   Actually, maybe I am, but it is cause of my lack of ability.   Add to this that I was born and raised in flat land Chicago, and you can also deduce my “Machine” education completely passed over the lesson concerning the emergency brake. To Nani, it was , indeed, non essential.

     Fast forward twenty some years to me being newly married and living in Seattle for Hubby’s fellowship year.   Suddenly, the, till then, unknown emergency brake became my Siamese twin.   Driving up the steep incline to drop off, or fetch, Hubby during rush hour, slow down traffic was terrifying.   Not kidding, when I say every single time traffic halted, in panic of sliding backward down the hill, I yanked on the emergency brake.   If I’d have had my druthers, I’d have left it engaged the whole trip up that hill.    However, the problem was, and still remains, while the emergency brake keeps one from sliding down steep mountains, its engagement, also, keeps you from successfully climbing the mountains of life.

     It is second nature when fear engulfs us, life seemingly defeats us, or the world destroys our confidence that our chosen gear is “park” with the emergency brake flashing “ON”.   Our initial observation is safety’s been achieved.   Deeper insight reveals while locked in place means not sliding downward, it also translates into no hope of going forward.

     We, Christians, proclaim our trust in God and His ability to get us through any, and all, steep storms.   However, on occasion we also wonder why God is so slow to move us beyond the slippery slopes of our trials.   Could it be our fears supersede our faith?   For God to guide us forward, we first must release our emergency brake of terrified paralysis.   When our brakes are locked, God can neither push, pull nor kick our fears and breaking lives toward healing and a new tomorrow.   Trust in God necessitates releasing all that keeps us parked in immobility into God’s Hands and allowing Him to propel our journey forward with the fuel of His wisdom and guidance.      

Guess the test that’s driving our lives and needing to be passed is whether we brake in fear or keep moving in trust.   All those decades ago, my Nani was right.   The passing of a test is about knowing how to drive and keep moving, not learning in panic how to park and cling to the emergency brake.