I had just finished working and I needed to go home and rest. LaDonna and Franklin were waiting for me. I was tired and ready to call it a day. I had one last thing to do, get a taxi and get home. So I walked to the end of the road from the church office and waited a minute or two and finally flagged down a taxi. I got in, greeted the taxi driver and told him where he needed to go. He seemed confused as to where we needed to go so I told him I would direct him. Off we went. It only took a few feet of rolling down the road to realize that this taxi was not in good shape. I don’t think there were any shocks, joints on the car clicked, it wobbled, a muffler was just for show, and there was a constant clanging of metal from somewhere in engine compartment. In America, this car would have been in a junkyard years ago (or used in a demolition derby).
I live three minutes by car from the church office. I honestly didn’t think I was going to make it home and I am not one easily shaken. That day though, I shook with the force of a thousand milk-shakes. As we rode along, I continued to direct the taxi driver and then a thought occurred to me, ‘I am not much different from this taxi’. I have flaws and seem to just wobble down the spiritual road. However, God met me. I let him in my heart. He paid a fee to be able to be in my “taxi.” In doing so, I let him guide me even when I don’t understand where I’m going.