Chanting in Cars with God

I really resisted voicing or making any New Year's resolutions for 2012. That was a first for me. Resolution-making, daiquiri, and fire-works are the only parts of New Year's celebrations that I've held any respect for since becoming an adult. Yet, I hate making promises I can't keep. "Let your no be no, and your yes be yes" (Matt. 5:37). To resolve to do something should mean that you do everything within your power to follow through and complete the quest you have chosen. Resolution shouldn't be the weak, ironic word it's become. I don't want to be thought of as inconstant. So, I try not to say things I don't mean, to offer things I can't give; but to never have the courage or discipline to resolve to do anything also smells a lot like laziness and cowardice. Funder says, "Doing something is better than doing nothing, 9 times out of 10." Thus, under the pressure of curious eyes and a guilty mind at our small New Year's Eve party, I verbally spouted a plan to read the bible every day and to apply for grad studies. I forgot about those ambitions pretty quickly. God elicited one real resolution from me after New Year's hype had run away with everyone's gym memberships and promises of sobriety, and that was to try to alway obey the posted speed limit. Given my lack of winter tires and the number of minor injuries my car has incurred due to my driver's haste, it was a reasonable command, but I had many reasons picking at me. I knew it was only a matter of time until I would be charged with a speeding ticket given how many red light cameras and bored officers with speed radar equipment there are in my neighbourhood. And I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to "test" the Lord your God with repeated requests for grace while doing something illegal unnecessarily. Some repeated thought about scriptures related to submitting to authority in the Lord and the law-abiding not fearing arrest irritated me daily for 2 years straight every time I would stop at the major intersection near my house after speeding on my way to or from it. But this winter, even though I was still speeding, the irritating whispers stopped. And that disturbed me more than 2 years of hearing antagonizing voices. I don't like long silences from people I know. Long silences make me worried that I've done something to offend or hurt someone, or that a misunderstanding has occurred to cause someone to feel slighted by me where no slight was intended, that someone is hiding from me because they've done something they think I'll judge them for or be disappointed in them for, or that I'm no longer needed and have been replaced in someone's life. I've heard from many quarters over my life that if you tell God to piss off frequently enough, eventually he'll give you the space you demand and leave you to face the consequences of your choices alone (think of tormented King Saul at the end of his life). I also know that sin separates us from God, so if you repeatedly ignore God's commands/truth about something, eventually you won't be able to hear God anymore (picture the dwarves in the New Narnia in C. S. Lewis' The Last Battle). So the final silence seemed to me to be quiet disappointment, acute loneliness, and a deep fear of having gone deaf. Even though God and I don't always get along, I don't want to be alone in a universe where the only One who gives ultimate meaning to life isn't a part of my life anymore. I decided my relationship with God was worth more to me than 2 minutes shaved off my commute every day. Really flattering to the Creator of the Universe, I know. It's been at least 2 months of mostly non-speeding and I have to say it remains a challenging permanent fast. I still have to check my speedometer continuously to make sure I'm not "cheating" by just blending in with the speed of traffic. I feel sorry for the people behind me who can't understand the aggravating 'old lady' ahead of them who insists on going the speed limit on empty highways at low-traffic flow times and I want to make them happy and not die a road rage victim. It's not just a little bit humbling and embarrassing to be the 'old lady driver' I fumed at not so long ago. On the up-side, I have fewer anxiety attacks about being caught speeding when I pass the photo-radar dudes, I haven't had to deal with all the guilt and adrenaline from nearly crashing due to excessive speed, and I've gotten to witness the local wildlife waddling safely across the street (yes, waddling- it was a skunk, which I suppose most people wouldn't be excited to see in their community, but I was safely in my car and it wasn't headed for my backyard, after all) in lieu of running it over and feeling sorrow for it. Nevertheless, I still have fits where I angrily wonder why I must go the speed limit when no one else seems to be doing so and it would probably be safer for me to go 10 km/hr faster, or why the speed limit is so painfully slow on the long, empty road that leads to my house. Why?! For just those kinds of occasions, God now has a new irritating chant he intones with me in my green car: "It's ok. They can go around you." Like we're a giant rock in the middle of a river, breaking the rushing current with our solidity. Mostly the chant is soothing, reminding me to let go of hurry and embrace beautiful things in the moment: the awesome music I'm listening to, the scenery I get to witness while I drive, the overall sense of safety enhancement, the rare time alone with my thoughts and my God. Sometimes I let this chant take on a slightly judgmental tone towards the other drivers in their envied speed, and then God has to add more of a harsh emphasis to the "can," which is a reminder to me to let go of my competitive attitude and to not feel bitter when people pull ahead of me in line at a traffic light. When I'm feeling especially discontent about it, God helps me encounter someone else who has made a similar commitment so we can commiserate with and encourage each other. Thanks, God. Oh, and Happy Easter. Correction, as Sonja would put it, Blessed Easter. Though I still remain unclear about exactly how one can "bless" God.