I woke up to the sound of tapping. But the surface to which the hand was knocking didn't sound like a door.
The tapping got louder. I started coming to my senses.
As my eyes opened, I realized this wasn't the sound of a gentle knock on a bedroom door - but the sound of a frantic tap on a window
Of my car.
A little girl - probably nine or ten - stood peering through the window as I lay like a baby curled up in the backseat of the car. As I looked past her, I saw the freeway and cars passing by at seventy miles an hour. I was on the feeder road and the car was parked.
I only thought I was waking up in my bed at home, until this little angel tapped on the window to wake me up and I realized I must have blacked out the night before in my car in the middle of the feeder road.
Beside the little girl was an older girl, her sister I think. Stepping out of the car, reeking of alcohol and filth, I looked at them through my blurry eyes, not knowing immediately where I was or what was happening. I said thanks as I tried to gather my thoughts and get my bearings straight. They walked back to their car and I to mine, trying to trace back how I got to my current situation.
The car must have been parked all night right there on the feeder road. Lights off. Sitting there in the dark. It must have been an unwelcome surprise for any drivers taking the feeder, for they wouldn't have had much warning.
I could've been hit. I could've hurt someone. I could've gone to jail. I could've had my car towed.
But, none of this stuff happened. I was spared by a little girl tapping on the window to wake me up.
I wish I could remember all the instances in my life where people have stepped in - some I've known and some I haven't - and woke me up.
Although I woke up and drove away that day, it would take years before I would start waking up for real. That was but an instant in which the God I believe in stepped in, noticed me, and spared me from more danger than I was already creating.
This God steps into the margins of life - the cracked and broken places of despair, exile, and oppression. It's not a sprint either. The God I believe in doesn't do magic shows, where in one instant something's there and in the next it's not. This God hangs around, calling, tugging, wooing, pulling, and loving harder and more faithful than any human can.
This God doesn't expect anything in return except that we humans know love and grace - the kind that wakes us up from blackouts on a cold, dead, feeder road. This God is moving along the alleyways, the dark corners, the hopeless areas, looking for someone else to wake up from their slumber.
The tapping got louder. I started coming to my senses.
As my eyes opened, I realized this wasn't the sound of a gentle knock on a bedroom door - but the sound of a frantic tap on a window
Of my car.
A little girl - probably nine or ten - stood peering through the window as I lay like a baby curled up in the backseat of the car. As I looked past her, I saw the freeway and cars passing by at seventy miles an hour. I was on the feeder road and the car was parked.
I only thought I was waking up in my bed at home, until this little angel tapped on the window to wake me up and I realized I must have blacked out the night before in my car in the middle of the feeder road.
Beside the little girl was an older girl, her sister I think. Stepping out of the car, reeking of alcohol and filth, I looked at them through my blurry eyes, not knowing immediately where I was or what was happening. I said thanks as I tried to gather my thoughts and get my bearings straight. They walked back to their car and I to mine, trying to trace back how I got to my current situation.
The car must have been parked all night right there on the feeder road. Lights off. Sitting there in the dark. It must have been an unwelcome surprise for any drivers taking the feeder, for they wouldn't have had much warning.
I could've been hit. I could've hurt someone. I could've gone to jail. I could've had my car towed.
But, none of this stuff happened. I was spared by a little girl tapping on the window to wake me up.
I wish I could remember all the instances in my life where people have stepped in - some I've known and some I haven't - and woke me up.
Although I woke up and drove away that day, it would take years before I would start waking up for real. That was but an instant in which the God I believe in stepped in, noticed me, and spared me from more danger than I was already creating.
This God steps into the margins of life - the cracked and broken places of despair, exile, and oppression. It's not a sprint either. The God I believe in doesn't do magic shows, where in one instant something's there and in the next it's not. This God hangs around, calling, tugging, wooing, pulling, and loving harder and more faithful than any human can.
This God doesn't expect anything in return except that we humans know love and grace - the kind that wakes us up from blackouts on a cold, dead, feeder road. This God is moving along the alleyways, the dark corners, the hopeless areas, looking for someone else to wake up from their slumber.
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