Good morning church family,
“Don’t be reckless,” I remember my dad telling me. “But remember – momentum is everything.”
This sage advice was given to me back when I only had a learners permit in my pocket and was about to try and get the family’s 12-passenger van from the campus of Vermont’s Castleton State College, where I had a job working in the cafeteria, to our home which sat high on a hill several miles away. It had been snowing throughout my dinner shift and by the time I was ready to punch out and head for home, most of the roadways had a couple of inches of greasy, slushy snow on them. As I walked out of work, I spied our big, blue van parked across the way. Approaching the van, I noticed that my dad, who had come to pick me up, was sitting in the passenger seat. “Oh no,” I thought to myself. “He’s going to have me drive.”
Unlike most teenage boys, I was not particularly motivated to do what was necessary to get my license and be let loose on the open road. I’m not entirely sure why that was, but I imagine it was a combination of the general malaise I was experiencing following a severe bout with depression and an inborn inclination to stay away from the edge of the nest. Whatever the case, I may be the only Vermonter in history to walk into the DMV and ask to have his 3-year learner’s permit renewed.
That Chevrolet Beauville van was a lot of car for a kid like me to try and handle. You’d turn the key in the ignition and the engine would roar to life; the van gently rocking in rhythm with the revving engine. It was as though the van was a strung-up bull stamping its hoof on the arena dirt; eyes red with rage and ready to be unleashed on the enemy hills and roadways ahead. I’d done okay riding that bull, but I had often witnessed my mom and dad struggle to keep it between the ditches when snow was piling up on the roads. The prospect of going tobogganing in the Chevy was a frightful thing to me. Without a lot of weight in the back and the Tate family economy unable to afford proper tires for the winter track, the van had a tendency to skid about and lose the lane. The worst of it was that our house was down a road that followed a river; wending and bending through the hollows of dense Green Mountain woods. The little country road was without a shoulder and thus without much room for error. If all that wasn’t enough, the driveway going up to our house was a couple hundred yards of steep incline with two hairpin turns switching back across field and meadow. Many times our van was left abandoned somewhere below while the family trudged up the hill with the groceries and everything else in tow.
“Hey Dad,” I said as my father emerged from the van with a car brush in his hand.
“Good evening son,” he replied; going right to work in clearing the snow from off of the windshield and over the door frames and side mirror. “Why don’t you hop in and drive, okay?”
I stood there in the dark wearing my uniform, black sneakers, and light coat; looking up at the parking lot light which showed a heavy snow falling down out of the sky. I was encouraged by the confidence my dad showed in me in that moment and the nonchalant manner in which he asked made me feel like more of a man than I was.
“Alright,” I said; walking over and brushing off the driver’s side mirror with the sleeve of my coat, “if you think so.”
With both of us in the car, my dad handed me the keys and I brought the big van to life. Settling in behind the wheel; I adjusted the seat and mirrors and turned on the wipers and headlights. Before putting the engine in gear, my dad went over the keys to winter driving. I listened the best I could but my heart was revving now in rhythm to the engine.
“Don’t be reckless,” he concluded soberly. “But remember – momentum is everything.”
On that drive and many more like it since, I’ve come to recognize the wisdom of my father’s words. Drive too fast and you can easily lose control. Drive too slowly and you can easily get stuck. The key is keeping a pace that has you scaling the treacherous steeps without skidding over the cliffs.
This advice has also served me well in my walk with the Lord. As it was with Abraham leaving Ur without an itinerary, the disciples leaving the Mount of Olives without a program, or Peter leaving the boat without a life preserver; God often calls us to take leaps of faith in our life. We’re given mountains to climb, rivers to cross, and valleys to navigate. And because these all exist within the environment of a desperate and fallen world – the way is often perilous and treacherous. To be prideful and reckless is to welcome disaster. But to be paralyzed with timidity is to be stuck on the wrong side of opportunity. What we need as believers is momentum. We must, with confidence, accept the keys from our Father, start the engine, put it in gear, and let our foot off the brake. We must give our faith some gas; careful to never get too far in front or too far behind the Lord. We must strive. We must struggle. We must endeavor. We must step out. In short – we must be leaping.
And when we do – fear not. God will see us home safe and sound.
We’re looking forward to gathering again in God’s house and having our hearts swell with gratitude for the hope we have in Jesus and with rejoicing for the fellowship we enjoy with both God and one another. It will be good to take a holiday from sin and its sad effects and enter into a Sabbath rest for our souls. Hallelujah! May the Lord, mighty God, bless and continue to keep us!
- Pastor Tate
