“Son, do you know how fast you were going?”
My 64 Chevy truck. It was painted a few different colors – the most notable was a section of canary yellow near the front. The engine was simple and even worked pretty often. I was pretty sure her top speed was somewhere in the 55-miles-per-hour zone.
My answer: “No officer, I don’t know. How fast?”
I was about a half mile away from the entrance to church. I was going there for Wednesday night youth group. I was late. There is a hill, a steep one, on that road and I had just gone down and was getting ready to turn when I saw the red and blues.
“You don’t know how fast you were going?” His sarcasm and doubt combination punched me in the gut. He thought I was trying to get out of a ticket by playing the dumb kid card.
The truck had a few unique characteristics: The stereo system was mostly home stereo speakers I had rednecked together. The carborater was mad at the world because of its own simplicity. The engine would stall when warm or when the vehicle was stopped. The dash board gauges wanted to work. The speedometer read about 5 to 10 miles under what I was actually traveling (or so I thought).
I threw out a random guess to avoid the appearance of complete stupidity. It didn’t work. “60?” “You were going 80 miles per hour in a 55.”
In the end, he didn’t give me a ticket. Maybe because I was going to church, maybe because the truck had stalled out and I couldn’t get it to start (he actually gave me a ride to the church).
Or maybe it was because when he said, “80 miles per hour” I started smiling. Big smile. I told him that I was surprised my little truck would go that fast. I was amazed. “Awesome!” (Probably not the correct response)
After church that night I walked back up to the truck, started it up, and drove home with a new amount of appreciation for life and 64 Chevys. My truck rocks! 80 miles per hour.
Sometimes we are surprised at what is under the hood of our souls.
“Son, do you know how much you are loved?”
What if I were to tell you that your spiritual speedometer does not even begin to register how much God loves you?
I know the paint job on your spirit is patchwork. I know the senses don’t all work all the time. I know the heart overheats when you least expect it and sometimes you just stall out, that’s if you can get started at all.
You don’t realize it sometimes. I don’t realize it sometimes. We do a poor job of monitoring how much God loves us.
If I could do one thing for this world, I would pull you over on the side of the road and tell you that you are loved more than you think you are. Loved more than you can imagine.
I get the feeling this is a truth that most people do not believe.
But when you hear it… When you see it… You will get back in the car with a new sense of awesome!
God loves you more. I pray today is the day you believe that.