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When God Speaks

When God Speaks
By Jack Kinsella

I’ve mentioned in the past that I do my best praying when I am driving. By ‘best praying’ I don’t mean that I am more articulate or use more flowery or beautiful language in my prayers when I am behind the wheel.

In fact, most of my prayers are silent ones. But when I am driving, I am also sitting still. And, (as a warning to the rest of you out there), once I get ‘in the groove’ so to speak, I automatically go on autopilot.

While that might be a bit of unnerving information if you happen to be driving down the road and see me coming, from my perspective, it is a great time to be engaged in conversation with the Lord.

Usually, when I am praying, it is at the expense of whatever else I think I should be doing. I don’t know if it happens to you, but when I am praying, my train of thought is interrupted by something I hear on the news in the background, or I suddenly have a GREAT idea for a column, or I start thinking about some chore that needs doing…hey, did I leave the windows rolled down in the car when I came home?

That kind of thing. I usually can find the time to make my petitions known to the Lord, but I seldom have the time (or the discipline) to listen to what the Lord wants to make known to me.

But when I am driving down the interstate, there is no place else I have to be, nothing else I have to do. My only job is to herd the bus down the road and keep it between the white lines. The other 95% of my consciousness is free to think, to pray — and to listen.

So I pray — but it is less a standard prayer than it is a two-way conversation. I bring my petitions before the Lord, pray for those people the Holy Spirit brings to my mind, but most of the time, I just enjoy the conversation.

Gayle and I always offer a formal prayer for provision and protection before we pull out for a day’s drive. During our most recent trip down to Florida to attend the NRB Conference, after asking the Lord for His protection, I suddenly began to feel a sense of concern about my right front tire.

It was as if the Lord were warning me — it seemed so real that I tightened my grip on the steering wheel while I looked for a rest area to pull over and take a look.

After a bit, we came to the Georgia Welcome Station and pulled off. Steve and Elaine were following, and they pulled into the rest area as well.

While Gayle and Elaine took the dog for a walk, Steve and I chatted about the trip so far, and I mentioned I was a bit worried about my right front tire. Steve and I both looked at it — it seemed fine.

I have a little digital air pressure gauge; the pressure was perfect. Since the pressure was fine, the tire looked fine, and the rig wasn’t ‘pulling’ either left or right, I figured I was just a bit jumpy, so on we went.

We stopped for that night at an RV camp in Jacksonville. That right front wheel kept bothering me. When we left the next morning, we stopped at an RV dealership so Steve could get his tow-bar repaired.

While we were there, I asked the RV guy to take a look at my tires. I told him I felt a bit uneasy about the right front. He looked, told me the tires were fine, but that I should consider replacing the front tires after another 10,000 miles or so.

So, off we went to Orlando. I told Gayle that I thought the Lord was warning us about our front tires and I insisted she wear her seatbelt.

It was very hectic during the conference, I didn’t give my tires any more thought until it was over, we were packed up and headed home. We prayed about it, and asked God to hold everything together until we could get home.

The trip home was exceptionally smooth and trouble-free. The traffic was light, the roads were clear, the weather was beautiful.

But I resolved to replace the front tires as soon as we got back to Morehead City.

Assessment

The reason I waited is because in Morehead City, I have a Guy. Everybody knows a Guy back home somewhere who is their ‘go-to’ guy.

He is the guy you ask, “Hey, where is a good place to get new tires?”, and he just happens to have a friend, a brother-in-law or a good buddy who happens to be in the tire business. That kind of guy.

Me, I call Rick. Rick is the Captain of the “Scarlet Lady” that I go deep-sea fishing with whenever the weather is right and we can rearrange our schedules to go.

The rest of the time, Rick runs a small manufacturing outfit.

His brother owns a trucking company, and Rick owns several tractor-trailer rigs for his own business. Rick also has an employee, (Curtis) who, as Divine providence would have it, used to work at an RV repair shop.

It wasn’t that the tires were bad — but I knew the Lord was warning me about something. Curtis made arrangements at Colony Tire to get two new front tires put on, (including Rick’s discount) and we brought the ol’ bus in to be reskinned.

Later, Rick called to tell me that ‘he had bad news.’ He said that while they were changing the tires, they noticed my brake pads seemed to be worn. Did I want to get them fixed while it was there?

Well, I really didn’t WANT to — I was still absorbing the cost of two new tires for an RV, but good brakes are a real asset on an eleven-ton vehicle, (and I was getting a discount through Rick’s company,) so I told them to go ahead.

The next day, Rick and I were talking when his cell phone rang. It was Curtis. Rick hung up and said, “You’re the luckiest guy I ever met. When they took the brake shoes off your wheel, the rotor was so badly scored it was about to fall apart. Curtis said he was amazed you were able to stop it without the whole brake assembly flying apart.”

Recalling my sense of concern on the trip, I asked him which wheel it was. Rick told me it was the driver’s side. But it seemed to me that the Lord was nagging me about the passenger wheel.

While we were talking, Rick’s phone rang again.

Rick hung up and said, “Curtis is freaking out. They took the brake shoes off the passenger side and the rotor disintegrated. There was a big piece already missing, and the other two pieces were just being held in place by the brake pads. Curtis said that other one was just fine by comparison. You ARE a lucky man.”

A “wheel rotor” is the thing that the brake pads press against to slow the wheels when you touch the brake pedal. The pads press against the turning wheel, slowing it. When you release the brake pedal, the pads recede. The rotor just sits there, part of the wheel assembly.

Had the rotor come apart while the rig was moving, the whole wheel assembly would have disintegrated. If the shrapnel didn’t get us, the ensuing wreck certainly would have.

Rick said there was no way that the passenger side wheel should have held together.

I had no warning that there was anything wrong with my brakes. The brakes seemed to be working just fine. I wouldn’t have gotten any warning — the first warning would have come when the wheel disintegrated under me at 70 mph on an interstate somewhere.

But the Lord told me there was SOMETHING wrong with the passenger side. I thought it was tires, even though the tires looked fine.

Where am I going with this? It is simple. We serve a living God. A God so powerful that He can hold the universe together, control the destiny of nations, appoint and dethrone kings and leaders, and He still has time to concern Himself with little details like warning me to get my RV fixed.

I am no mechanic. You could write everything I know about mechanics on the back side of a postage stamp. There was no warning. The tires weren’t losing air, the tread wasn’t particularly worn, the rig wasn’t pulling in one direction or another. It had been inspected less than a year ago, and we’ve not put 15,000 miles on it since then.

I had no reason to worry about my passenger side front wheel. I really couldn’t even understand why I was so concerned. The Scriptures tell us to “Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)

Had I trusted to my own understanding in this case, our path would have been to a wrecking yard, maybe a hospital, or even possibly a morgue.

Instead, He directed us to replace a set of tires that seemed perfectly serviceable.

“Now therefore hearken unto Me, O ye children: for blessed are they that keep My ways. Hear instruction, and be wise, and refuse it not.” (Proverbs 8:32-33)

Maranatha!

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