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09 June 2011

No, really. God spoke to me on Interstate 8.

   I sometimes hear people say that God literally spoke to them.  As in, audibly.  As in, they, with their ears, heard God, with his voice, say something, usually something directly intended for them.   I, personally, have never been the recipient/participant of a God monologue/dialogue.  It's only my opinion, but I think if you think you actually hear God's voice in an audible way, you're covered under the DSM-IV definition of schizophrenia.
   Forgive me if my tone is a bit skeptical.  I have difficulty wrapping my mind around an unverifiable and, invariably, beneficial experience of another.  I dunno.  Maybe I'm just jealous.  I do know that I'm not always cheered by the good fortune of my fellows, and my happiness for them seems inversely proportionate to the size of their prize. For example, if you get a modest tax refund, I'll smile, congratulate you, and pat you on the back without further thought. However, if you win the lottery and become several million dollars wealthier, I can force myself to smile, congratulate you, and pat you on the back with the singular motive of sharing in your newfound wealth. At the precise moment it becomes clear to me that you have no intention of sharing your money, I will become bitter, indignant, and unkind toward you. It's not pretty, but I think it's the truth.
   Now back to the God-speaking thing.  This morning, my domestic partner and I were cheerfully motoring through the Flintstone-esque mountains of eastern San Diego County at, apparently, 85 miles per hour, when a certain California state employee with radar and a black-and-white car fulfilled his duty to his employer by personally and punitively suggesting I slow down a bit.  "Officer Friendly" was polite, professional,  and efficient, asking for my driver's license and proof of insurance.  In less than five minutes, I was invited to sign my speeding ticket and encouraged to use caution as I returned to the flow of the interstate highway.
   But I noticed something different from this situation, compared to similar situations in which I've found myself in the past.  For starters, my heart and mind weren't racing.  I didn't feel nervous, shamed, defensive or angry.  I thought, "Hmm.  I was speeding and I got caught.  I guess this makes up for all the times I've broken the law and didn't get caught.  I guess there is justice after all."
   As we continued on our way to the beach, I asked the God of my understanding, the one who's never spoken to me audibly, if perhaps I might glean a larger lesson from the incident.  I think I received an answer to that question.  I think God was speaking to me through the California Highway Patrol.  I thought about other aspects of my life.  I think the message was: "slow down."
   Fair enough.

1 comment:

  1. Enjoy the beach. Smell the roses. And yes, slow down.

    ;-) hugs.

    ReplyDelete