We sliced through the air. The two lane, winding road carrying us from over 4,000 feet to 1,000 in a matter of minutes. I know this because I tracked our progress when we head up the mountain only three days earlier – purple Sharpie Pen noting the times and the elevations in my journal.
My right foot dancing between the air and the brake pedal. Caution my middle name.
As we came out of our drastic descent and the speed limit increased I wondered how they set speed limits for roads...I hope not by trial and error. But in a world before modern computer simulation models that can tell a civil engineer at what speed a car traveling down a curvy, steep mountain will careen off the cliff into a fiery crash, roads were laid.
My thoughts turned to my own life and its own twists and turns and drastic descents. What rate does God allow me to travel these curves? At what speed does He allow events in my life that cause me to lean more into Him?
The road from angry and broken to entertaining bravery and hope has its set speed. When the hits kept coming and my anger kept burning, somewhere deep inside I think I knew it was at a rate in which I’d be forced to lean into Him the way one’s body leans when a car is rounding a turn. Away from the curve.
During those drastic turns and breath stealing descents I could feel Him there. Even when I didn’t want Him. I needed to make them. He need me to lean into Him, and I needed to.
The road is often treacherous, but this is grace.
