“Jesus, take the wheel.” –Carrie Underwood
“Jesus is my co-pilot.” –Papaw’s license plate
We’ve heard these and many other quotes about who is really driving this rig. I grew up hearing, “Jesus is my co-pilot” often. My papaw had a license plate on his old blue clunker that had written on it that very sentiment.
As I grew up, I realized that I don’t want Jesus to be my co-pilot; rather, I want Him to be the one driving. Giving Him control of the wheel, brake pedal, and gas pedal is sometimes easy and sometimes difficult. Sometimes we have no choice but to let go and let God have it all. Other times, we think we’re doing a dang fine job and probably exactly what He would do if He had the wheel.
Currently, as far as my mushy heart can tell, Jesus is driving my car. And whoa! how I want to take over. I want to take control of the steering wheel, decide how fast we go and when to hit the brake to avoid hitting the person in front of me.
I feel like a little kid who wants to drive but is not licensed. I have seen how to turn the wheel and watched my parents hit the gas and brakes. It seems like it’d be easy. Except I really don’t know what’s above the dash board. At all. I can’t see over it. He can, though. He sees the horizon (and beyond!). So, I have moved from reaching for the wheel, fully aware that I cannot do a dang thing, to crossing my arms in attempt to refrain from reaching, and have even begun to pout about it, like a little kid. Fat lip and all.
And still, there’s nothing I can do about what’s next. Except pray and roll with the punches.
Maybe He’ll give me a peak over the dashboard at the next fill-up or restroom break…