Looking Forward


I prepare to start driving for the night.  As I sit and prepare my mind, I hear the whining of truck tires on the freeway.   I will soon be making the same noise.

The peace of God’s creation is split asunder by the works of men’s hands.  The night is carved by sounds of a day of darkness.   And there is shame in me as I sit in a peaceful place preparing for the war of noise.

How I look forward to the place where these things are not.  Where a man may walk eternally through the trees and listen to the smallest of breeze in their leaves.  The place where what God has created is appreciated far more than what a man’s hands may do.

You have secured a place for me, Holy Lord Jesus.  And not only me, but millions of others who love you.  Thank you for being the mercy of our God.  Thank you for the promise of eternal peace.  And this promise delivered to us even while we live in a wicked and unholy place.

May the will of God be done forever for He alone is good and true.  Amen.

By His Grace

Occupation


The Apostle Paul made tents.  The Apostle Peter was a fisherman.  There are not many of God’s people who inhabit glorious occupations.  And those who do are often assailed with temptation and corruption.  They are humble occupations which often provide for humble men.  For it is God’s will that his people become servants.

All day long people are irritated at big trucks.  They occupy their space with formidable threat. The trucks obscure one’s vision.  They always seem to be in the way.  You know sooner navigate around one truck and there appears another.  They are slow.  They are fearsome in their size.  When it rains they spew bath tubs of water on your windshield.  And when they blow a tire it seems all hell breaks loose.  Why would anyone not be frustrated by big trucks?

One would think that big trucks are an unholy aberration; frustration sent among men from the very bowels of hell.  In a large part men have no idea how correct that is.  In the beginning it was not God’s will that’s such things should be.

But do not judge the driver by the frustration he leaves in his wake.  And do not judge him when you see him dismount from his Stallion of Steel.  He is shabby in appearance; not at all the mountainous and evil man you presumed.  He is an emblem of surprise; that such a man should cause such havoc in your life.

All the while you are frustrated and on the verge of anger, you envision some hideous monster behind the wheel.  Surely he is full of hatred.  Surely he has no kin.  His mother was a rock in the forest.  And his father was but a needle pine.  He is a troll among men; a demon filled and pitiful excuse for a man.  No decent man would cause such pain.

I am a truck driver.  I take note of your fear and anxiety all day long.  I see that you are impatient.  I see that in your impatience you have no regard for law.  For you push with all your might just beyond what is lawful; that you may vanquish this enemy of rubber and steel.

But mercy attends my hands.  The Son of God sings beautiful things to my soul all day long. I spend my hours with no radio playing.  No one to speak wicked things to me.  And my days end as did the days of the Apostles’; in prayer of praise and thanks to the one who has delivered me from incident or injury to others.

I know you cannot help the way you feel.  Life demands a great deal.  But the next time you are navigating around a truck, consider that one of them contains the Holy Word of God.