I’m not normally a speeder—at least since I left the frenetic pace of my late teens-early twenties (coincidentally the same period that I was the proud owner of a turbocharged Dodge Daytona). But, yeah, I usually push the speedometer four or five miles past the posted. On the highways, at least.
Neighborhood streets, where children and squirrels often play, I’m very conscious of my speed and peripheral vision. But the other day, heading late to work, I urged my truck to about ten over the posted on a main asphalt artery to Highway 77. I know this stretch is often targeted to fatten the coffers of the city of Bloomington, MN, so I rarely push my luck here. But I was late, mid-year reviews, etc. etc.
So there I was, doing 45 in a 35 when I spotted the black and white. I even watched—in slow-motion it seemed—as the officer set aside the radar gun in preparation of the short pursuit to hand over my certificate of donation to the city.
But it never happened. I called my wife 5 minutes later—when I was sure I was in the clear—and told her “God’s Cloak of Invisibility is on my truck!”
Five days later, rushing down I-35 to my son’s orthodontist appointment, I was doing my usual, carefully-calculated 10 mph enhancement. Parking is hell in downtown Minneapolis, so I tweaked an additional 5 on my speedometer to buy an additional 5 seconds of parking time.
And there he was, a two-wheeled keeper of the peace, lounging in the shade of an overpass, radar phaser in hand.
Three miles down the road I called my wife and whispered—not wanting to alert my son to the scofflaw status of his father—“God’s Divine Cloaking Device is still on my truck!”
“You better stop it!” she chuckled. This coming from a woman who has received two speeding tickets in the last year! Of course, in the twenty five years leading up to those two, she had only received one such summons.
Now, I’m all for trusting God in everything—EVERYTHING—I do. But I also knew I better stop testing Him. I’m officially on the speed-limit wagon. Go 55!
Last night at work, I received an email from my wife. She was organizing the junk drawer—it’s an annual rite for her—not sure why. She wrote: “Found the license plate tags for your truck—from May! Three months??”
The bible tells me that faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen. I can’t always see God working in my life—haven’t seen that hefty advance for my first novel. But I have faith that He is working it everyday. And even though I saw it this time, I put those tabs on first thing this morning. And I cranked up my Trust-In-God dial to 11!