Analogy: If God is the driver of the bus (of your life), what are you?

I am the passenger who likes taking long bus rides. I am relaxed knowing that the bus will get me somewhere. Where? Well, that I’m not sure. I know I’m supposed to go somewhere and that I’m meant to do something, but I’m still waiting for the bus driver to call out and let me know when my stop is. I ask him every now and when if this is where I should go.

In the meantime, I’ve found a nice window seat away from the glare of the sun and just enough cool aircon breeze. Many bus stops pass, other passengers board and leave, and I’m starting to realise all the things and people I’ve let slip by.

I look down at my bus ticket, hoping for a clue on where I’m supposed to be. There is nothing but a large stamp “PAID by Jesus”. He paid the price for me.

At times I find courage to slide out of my seat, to go and do good in the world. I press the door bell and wait at the doors. The bus stops where I’m supposed to be but suddenly, I am afraid and uncertain. I ask the bus driver if this is it, if this is the correct stop for me. But I haven’t mastered his language yet. I think I see him gesturing, but I’m blinded by my doubt and the glamour of neon self-created signs of what I want.

The door remains open, and I’m paralysed on the steps — on the brink of doing what I was called to do yet still afraid that if I go, I will have to forgo everything that I’ve dreamt for my future. I know, I know that in reality I have nothing to lose. How strange that I am delaying my call to hold on to the immaterial future!

The gap between the last step and the sidewalk seems too far. But the bus driver is patient. He sees my worried glance. He comes to me and stands beside me. His voice calms me.

My mind is stumbling over fear; my heart grieves over what I will have to leave behind. My speech is impaired; I fumble as I try to describe the agony of my indecision.

He looks on, with concern and understanding in his eyes. We start talking, at first with broken sentences. I listen with all my might, focusing on his voice. The more we talk, the faster I seem to understand what he is saying. Phrases to sentences. His graces fill the gap and my response will be my faith.

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