I was going to an important meeting, so when I merged onto the highway, I pulled to the far left lane. Some people drive; I zoom. This is the reason my friends have kindly suggested that I never put the Christian fishie on my car. (And I know the proper term is Ichthys, but fishie is much more fun to say and we are all in dire need of much more fun.)
Too late to exit, I realized that up ahead ALL lanes of traffic were stopped. As I inched forward over the next half-hour, I saw that five lanes had been narrowed down to one. And it was raining.
I was going to be late for my meeting, which drives me nuts. I run on Lombardi time. (If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late.) Thanks to my GPS app, I could watch my ETA grow further and further away. All I could do was breathe.
And pray! I always remember prayer a fraction of a second later than I probably should. After all, I am, for the most part, a Christ-follower. Occasionally my language lags behind but I am also a Texan so I’m sure Jesus makes allowances for that. (“You all may go to hell and I will go to Texas,” as Mr. Crockett said. That quote still makes my heart thrum with joy. )
Anyway, I remembered something Beth Moore said about praying for the Red Sea to part when she was sitting in traffic. I felt stupid, but I asked God if He would part the traffic like He did the Red Sea. And I knew of course that this was impossible, unless all cars pulled over to the left and right emergency lanes. Oh, wait—traffic was stopped in those, too. So much for parting anything at all.
But I prayed. And reminded myself not to waste my precious hours on this planet with a grouchy attitude. I knew my prayer was silly but I prayed it anyway because when you are in an impossible situation, you might as well ask that the impossible be done, right? Because prayer is not always about getting what we ask for; it’s about remembering that more things are possible than we know. Prayer is about our attitude when we’re in an impossible situation.
Suddenly, I saw men wearing reflective vests weaving in and out of the cars just in front of me. Startled—because men normally aren’t walking on the highway—I strained to see what they were doing.
They were moving traffic cones. In the blink of an eye, the car in front of me sped off and I saw that all lanes of traffic were now open. The sea had, indeed, parted.
Because I prayed? No. But the timing is suspicious.
Perhaps, if you believe in such things, and I do, God used the moment to remind me that my imagination is woefully limited. If I could not foresee such a humanly possible answer, then I really have no idea what “possible” even means. I have no clue what could be happening, and what might happen, in the divine realm.
So, ask for the impossible. Pray in a way that embarrasses you. It’s good for your heart to be reminded that what we see is never the entire story. Wonderful things can happen in the blink of an eye.
And if you see me in your rear view mirror, pull to the right. I’m probably late.