Traffic

I've never met a person that liked to be in traffic. The forced pressure of patience that few possess tends to boil like molten lava within the chest, until it erupts into violent outbreaks of spastic fits, which if seen out of context could be viewed as mental instability.

What's most interesting is our relative view of "traffic." For some it's a parking lot of ten thousand cars on an eight-lane interstate. For others, like myself who tend to pass more cows than cars, traffic may consist of a single passenger automobile that has their time clock eighteen hours slow on a Monday morning, and have decided to treat a four way stop as an opportunity to rethink their entire direction in life.

I shouldn't complain... I've concluded I'm in the same position.

I want so desperately to discover God's will for my life, yet I find myself stalled at intersections with a chorus of horns attempting to motivate me onward. I have often found that the thing I can't seem to forget, yet loath to do, is usually the next step God wants me to take. Unfortunately, this realization is more often a reminder of my disobedience rather than the green light that releases me from inaction.

There are those that encourage defensive driving and caution us "not to rush into anything." However, I find myself over-thinking my options, trying to construct some legitimate excuse to why I should turn left when I'm fully aware God is whispering from the right. Erwin McManus notes this "lag time," as the truest indicator of our faith. I hope my delay hasn't shriveled my faith beyond the required mustard seed. Perhaps its finally time I just turn on my blinker and step on the gas before a rear-end collision forces me out into the intersection.