Reliance

The road wended its way toward home, with the river and its steep, rocky embankment on the left.  First a slight drizzle, then a light, pretty snow. I was relaxed after some time away with my sister and felt at ease on the roads. I was driving our reliable-but-aged SUV and casually commented to her that I was “so grateful for my all-wheel drive vehicle” in weather like that.

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than we began to slip. The initial fraction of a second alerted me, but I then realized that we were really sliding. Really sliding. The road was curving to the right and we were headed – quickly – for the ravine and the river. My prayer was a simple, “Oh, Lord” as I steered into the slide. Still sliding, I was way across the yellow line, about five feet from going off the guardrail-less road. “Oh, Lord.” A moment’s recovery. Sliding again… this time towards the concrete barrier on my right as the road was beginning to straighten out and turn left. My sister began praying, too, except she somehow had the wherewithal to utter more than my simple, “Oh, Lord.” More sliding and then sudden traction, just a couple feet before colliding with the barrier. “Oh, Lord.”

I burst into tears immediately. I was terrified, relieved and thankful, but none of these were the reason I was crying.

Scripture had leapt into my mind instantaneously:

Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God.     –Psalm 20:7

I was so humbled by this Word of correction that I was utterly beside myself. I had, moments before, given voice to my previously unspoken trust in a thing. I wasn’t trusting in God; I was trusting – quite literally – in my chariot. I was relying on my worldly goods for my safety, well-being and comfort. I should no more count on guardrails for my safety than my car. I was not relying on God. And He is too good to let me continue in that sin.

In hindsight, I don’t think we were ever in danger. It was as if God had His mighty hands on either side of the road, hemming us in where the guardrails were missing, yet allowing me to see the gravity of my misplaced trust.  It felt like a bumper-car bounce when we regained traction, though we didn’t hit anything.

I’m asking God to show me my other chariots. I must not trust in them.

I must rely on God and God alone.

 

 

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