______________________________________________________________________
He gripped the steering wheel tightly as they approached the first bend in the road.
“100 metres, kink right severity 2,” said the Navigator.
He flicked the gear shift down, and the engine roared as he accelerated into the bend, fully trusting the first instruction from the Navigator. The car bucked and slid along the gravel track with trees, bushes, and eager spectators’ mere flashes of colour as they sped along the waymarked route.
“50m, jump (caution!) into immediate right hand bend severity 2 tightens (caution, do not cut the corner, due to hazard on the inside)” shouted the Navigator into his microphone and the message crackled through the headset of the man at the wheel.
He flicked the paddles on the steering wheel again to change gear and hit the brakes just before the vehicle rose and left the ground. For a moment that felt like an age, the car was floating above the ground, wheels spinning, engine roaring, the crowd cheering. Suddenly, the car landed back on the ground, shaking and rattling as the wheels re-connected with the ground and started moving again. They’d landed in exactly the right spot, just as the Navigator had planned and they continued onwards, picking up speed.
“400 m, flat (maximum speed) into crest into kink left severity 4” called out the Navigator.
He flicked the paddle to change gear once more and pressed the accelerator to the floor. This was a straight part of the route where maximum speed was required, and he knew he had to commit fully to this part of the course. However, the Navigator had told him there was a sharp bend ahead and the instruction was clear, but his confidence was high. “I can make up a few more seconds if I go a little faster and harder” he thought. “After all, I’m at the wheel. I’m driving. I know I can do this”.
As the rose over the crest at full speed, he saw the bend ahead. But it was too late. He’d ignored the Navigators instructions and thought he knew better. But the car was now out of control as he applied the brakes to try to take the curve. He heard the cry of anguish from the Navigator, but it was somehow distant now. He still thought he could take the car around this severe bend in the road without the Navigators instructions. After all, he was the Driver, and he was the one at the wheel. The Navigator wasn’t in control, he was merely there to guide.
The car entered the bend and he pulled hard on the wheel and applied even more power, determined to make it round the bend. The car began to lean towards the right, with two wheels off the road. There was nothing the Driver could do to stop it, but the Navigator knew exactly what had happened. The Driver had ignored his instructions and now was going to face the consequences. The Navigator wasn’t angry as he’d seen this many times before. Despite the clear instructions, the ego and pride of the Drivers always thought they knew best.
The car moved in slow motion, gradually tipping over towards a group of spectators who started to scatter as they could see what was about to happen. They’d seen other drivers come to grief on this bend as it was one of the hardest parts of the course. The bend followed a period of speed and easy progress, but they’d seen many Drivers approach it too fast and fail to stay on the course, as surely as the car in front of them was about to do.
As the spectators ran, the car was already on its side scraping along the gravel track. Stones and dirt were thrown inside the open windows in the car and the Driver and Navigator were covered in the debris and pain of the unexpected crash. The Driver was angry with himself as the car began to slow down, bumping into the dry walls of soil and stones and bouncing along the dusty road.
The Navigator sat silently. He knew that that accident was going to happen but also knew it would be an important lesson for the Driver. He also knew, as he’d seen it countless times before, that maybe next time, the Driver might listen a little more closely to his instructions.
The car came to grinding halt on the track. The race was stopped, and the medical crews soon arrived. Thankfully, no one was hurt. The car was bent out of shape and would need to be repaired before they could race again, but thankfully, it was only the pride of the Driver that had been bruised.
“I should have followed your instructions,” said the Driver. “I knew that we’d prepared for this race together, but I thought I knew best. I should have remembered that I can’t run this race successfully if I ignore you.”
The Navigator smiled. “It’s OK. I’ll always be alongside you. We’ll patch up the car and go again.”
How many times do we think we know better than God?
As our Co-pilot and Navigator for our lives, He knows the twists and turns ahead and tries to help us. He knows when we can go faster and take risks nd when we need to slow down and be cautious. He will speak to us in the noise of life, but we must be willing to find the silence against the roar of our pride and listen humbly to His instructions. He knows that at times we’ll ignore him and come to grief. But His heart of forgiveness will simply mean that we can start again with Him – every day.
He is our Co-pilot and Navigator. And even when He’s tried to direct us and our ego says we know best, He will simply pick up the pieces of our lives and continue the journey with us…
Paul Harris 