If you had a car with dual controls – steering wheels and pedals at both front seats – it could be a very helpful advantage over single control driving. If one driver is tired, can’t see, or can’t concentrate so well, he’s got someone to cover.
On the other hand, imagine if the second driver forgot about the very existence of the first. He would likely interfere with or even negate the skilled driving of the first. What a disaster.
This came to mind as I considered the wisdom inside each of us.
On the one hand, there’s something like the healing of a wound. It’s basically a single steering wheel job. I can do things to support or hinder the process, but I’m not directing coagulants, skin cells, blood flow, etc. I’m not driving. That’s all God. It’s mind boggling how myriads of systems are choreographed with wisdom toward tangible healing. I am SO grateful I don’t have any share in the driving on that task. Can you imagine?
Then there’s my inner world – my internal experiences of warm and peaceful, idealistic and driven, fearful and tense, jealous and hurt. To me that’s more dual steering. God is the source of all thought. He’s the source of my consciousness, that which allows me to feel my thought. He’s sourcing everything. So He’s obviously a driver.
On the other hand, I’m also a driver. I feel thoughts, prefer some, focus on, resist and protest others. I have the ability to intervene.
So now, what happens if I don’t know there’s another driver? I am going to interfere with and negate His driving! Gevalt.
It seems to me we do that all the time. Yes, God gave us a steering wheel in navigating our inner world. Our choice to focus and understand, to listen and pause, to act or step back are all essential uses of the gift of our steering. On the other hand, part of driving includes remembering we’re not the sole driver.
To me, insecure, fearful, and jealous experiences are like times of reduced visibility. They literally remind of the presence of the other driver. God is driving me through certain thought terrain where I can’t see so well. All human beings drive through these thoughts. There’s something to be had in them, or else He wouldn’t drive us through them. But trying to drive off the road to get elsewhere doesn’t go well; it messes up the Driver’s work. When the road loses its visibility, it’s a good reminder there’s another driver; it’s a good cue to ease off the wheel.
This has been such a helpful understanding to me. Please join me this at this Thursday's teleconference, 10am, to learn more about this metaphor and what it points to.
On the other hand, imagine if the second driver forgot about the very existence of the first. He would likely interfere with or even negate the skilled driving of the first. What a disaster.
This came to mind as I considered the wisdom inside each of us.
On the one hand, there’s something like the healing of a wound. It’s basically a single steering wheel job. I can do things to support or hinder the process, but I’m not directing coagulants, skin cells, blood flow, etc. I’m not driving. That’s all God. It’s mind boggling how myriads of systems are choreographed with wisdom toward tangible healing. I am SO grateful I don’t have any share in the driving on that task. Can you imagine?
Then there’s my inner world – my internal experiences of warm and peaceful, idealistic and driven, fearful and tense, jealous and hurt. To me that’s more dual steering. God is the source of all thought. He’s the source of my consciousness, that which allows me to feel my thought. He’s sourcing everything. So He’s obviously a driver.
On the other hand, I’m also a driver. I feel thoughts, prefer some, focus on, resist and protest others. I have the ability to intervene.
So now, what happens if I don’t know there’s another driver? I am going to interfere with and negate His driving! Gevalt.
It seems to me we do that all the time. Yes, God gave us a steering wheel in navigating our inner world. Our choice to focus and understand, to listen and pause, to act or step back are all essential uses of the gift of our steering. On the other hand, part of driving includes remembering we’re not the sole driver.
To me, insecure, fearful, and jealous experiences are like times of reduced visibility. They literally remind of the presence of the other driver. God is driving me through certain thought terrain where I can’t see so well. All human beings drive through these thoughts. There’s something to be had in them, or else He wouldn’t drive us through them. But trying to drive off the road to get elsewhere doesn’t go well; it messes up the Driver’s work. When the road loses its visibility, it’s a good reminder there’s another driver; it’s a good cue to ease off the wheel.
This has been such a helpful understanding to me. Please join me this at this Thursday's teleconference, 10am, to learn more about this metaphor and what it points to.
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