The Van- Part 2

You may remember me sharing with you about my mom's minivan when we were growing up. What a diamond in the rough.

Well, this is another theological life lesson that my brother, Wilson and that dumb van taught me.

It was a Friday. Wilson was probably 2-3... ish. Things were wild, loud and chaotic as they were typically at our house. I loved that. I think that's why today, I can take on chaos well. Anyway, here is what was happening in the span of about 4 minutes:

• I was getting ready to spend the night out at a friend's house. That's a big deal for a 9 year old. I was probably in the process of packing everything I owned with the exception of clothing. And most likely, my sister and I were fighting about what belonged to who. 
• Mother, (my grandmother) had just arrived to our house... unexpectedly. 
• Dad wasn't home from work yet.
• Wilson, that day, had gotten a library card and was OBSESSIVE over it. (He has an obsessive personality.)
• We got home from school later than we had hoped. (But, being late is pretty much a "given" anytime I'm telling a story about my childhood. Praise the Lord Mom and Dad stopped fighting the wrinkly clothing war. We just decided if we had wrinkles and were running late, people could deal. But, we still iron for special occasions. Consider yourself important if we iron for you.)
• My friend's mom was going to be at our house in about .7 seconds to pick me up.

So, with all of the attention focused on me, trying to get my bag packed with logical items like... a toothbrush and I don't know.. pants; poor third child Wilson, was trying to find his library card. With everyone inside, Wilson went out to the van. He got inside and started looking around for the blessed card. Somehow, (this next part remains a mystery to us all) Wilson managed to knock the car out of park and into neutral. The van proceeded to roll down our driveway, across the street, over the curb, through a front yard,  and into the front porch of our 94 year old neighbor's home. Oh yeah, all of this was unbeknownst to any other human inside of our house. So, just a few seconds later, a man knocked on our door and these were his words "Do y'all have a green van, or a little boy?" Because there, on our neighbors front porch,  was our van, with a small child in the front seat. Thanks, Stranger!

(Sidenote, when I retell this story verbally and not written, I try to mask the events of that afternoon with enormous amounts of sarcasm and comedy. But, in reality, it was scary. We are now able to laugh about it, but a few choices or events could have made the outcome a lot less funny for us. I'm not trying to diminish the fright of the afternoon, because it surely existed.)

Here's the thing, I don't really remember what happened next.  I remember Wilson was laughing... and probably my mom was crying. Mother was probably freaking.  The stranger driving down our street was a kind soul and decided to stop and check out the situation, as he saw a green mini-van glide across the street and continue in motion, until hitting and knocking down the wrought iron posts on an elderly woman's porch. 

Because of this "situation" or "accident", a new rule was made at our house, my parents thought this was unspoken common sense, but obviously in the eyes of an adventurous boy, that didn't prove itself to be true. Here was the rule: If you need help, ask first. If you don't know what to do, ask first. 

This has followed me throughout my life. Do I always follow it and remember it?

 Nope.

Sometimes, my first instinct isn't the correct one. And other times, I have absolutely no idea how to react. This applies not only to the operational and physical life on earth, but to our spiritual faith, as we live and try to react in ways that glorify Christ. I am still calling my parents to ask how to handle certain situations (like being stranded on the side of the road with a blown tire) when I have no idea how to react, and I'll probably forever do that to some extent. But, how often do I stop to ask for help from the Lord? How often do I allow the Lord to intervene and take control when I am in need? 

Here's my transparent confession today, sometimes I end up just like my brother. I end up in the midst of a mess, trying to figure out how in the world I got there. When, I could have, prevented the whole situation all together if I had asked for help from the Lord. If I had stopped before making certain choices, saying certain things, or sought out His word and counsel before I reacted to a friend's question. Recently, I'm being convicted more of not trusting God's plan for me. I am so prideful. When I could so easily seek God's heart in a situation, I try to fix things myself because I don't have the patience, or even worse, I like fixing things myself, taking credit for my "wise" choices. I like to be in control. (But, let's face it, most of the time without the Lord's counsel or wisdom, they are the worst choices.)  When in my opinion, claiming control and giving no glory to God, is just like denying God's work and taking credit for His sovereignty. That's comical. And embarrassing. So, there's that. 

So friends, as you find yourself in tough places this week, wherever that may be; having  hard conversations, making tough choices, facing doubt, ask for help. If you don't know what to do, ask for help. The Lord understands our thoughts and our groanings even when we can't put our thoughts into words.  The Holy Spirit intercedes on our behalf to interpret our deepest longings. We learn through scripture that the Lord is faithful to those who call on Him- for that alone, I am filled with hope- as He is the one with all wisdom, all knowledge and is present with me wherever I take my next breath. Seek Him before you find yourself in the front seat of a minivan, on a neighbor's front porch, unaware of how in the world you created so much chaos and unease.