“Hurry is not ‘of the devil,’ it is the devil.” Carl Jung
I am guilty, I confess. Everyday I am in violation of the law. I go over the speed limit, and then I make excuses as to why. But really, I rationalize, who goes the speed limit? If you do the speed limit anywhere in the general metropolis of Phoenix, Arizona, you are in danger of being a victim of road rage, which could result in death, and that would be bad for your health. "I want to live," I rationalize.
After all, this is someone else's idea of what is safe, not mine.
Why do I feel I am except from following the established rules of the road. Why do I obey the other rules? Why not throw those out too? I think it boils down to a couple of issues, pride and rebellion. After all, I think I should be the one to judge what is safe for me. I know my driving ability. I pick and choose which rules I think are important and let the rest slide.
I treat them like suggestions, not laws.
I, I and I.
And, I wonder, what if I applied that rational of thinking to what God tells me to do in His word? Do I treat those as suggestions too? Or do I trust God and obey without question?
What actually started all this self evaluation this morning?
I was late for work. And I was mad that the back security gate was broken.....again. So this means I have to use the main gate which causes me to pull out onto a busy road which causes me to wait. I was distracted. As I accelerated....just a bit, and rounded the corner I was met head on by two early morning bicyclists.
The wife was riding on the side of the road, but he was in the middle and had to swerve out of my way. I saw irritation on both their faces. I was going slow, mind you, I was only 200 feet from my front door. But I was guilty as sin. My habit of speeding had convicted me, because I know what I do just about every day. And it's wrong.
And what surprised me even more was how quickly I wanted to find a way to blame them. Just like Eve.
By the time I got to work, my conscience was as out of control as a raging fire. I felt as guilty as if I had fled the scene of a hit and run accident. I had put myself in prison and thrown away the key.
Then when I got to work, a co-worker described an accident they had to detour around. It was a fatality. A driver of a Toyota pickup, due to excessive speed had lost control and had been thrown from his vehicle.
And now someone had to plan a funeral.
Okay, God. You got my attention, I am slowing down now.