Faith can move mountains, supposedly, but can it fill your tank with gas?
Last weekend, as my daughters and I winged our way south toward home, the gas tank in the car became dangerously low. I hadn't been paying attention to it as I should have, and missed what seemed to be the last exit with available gas stations. I was becoming very concerned, as it was late Saturday night, rainy, and I had precious cargo on board. Finally, an exit loomed in the distance! And one of those signs with the picture of a gas pump, indicating that gas was indeed available for purchase! It was very dark out there on the freeway, and I couldn't see any neon lights advertising petrol-chemical distillate for sale, but as I had few choices and about 1/32nd of a tank left, I left the freeway in hopes of finding a filling station. There was a sign at the end of the exit ramp, Malta 8 miles, pointing to the right, and lights far off in the distance that could have been civilization. So, I put my faith in the sign I'd seen on the freeway indicating gas could be found somewhere at this exit, and turned right. We were on a dark, rainy, winding country road (the beginning line of a very bad novel!), and as we proceeded down this road I became very anxious about our fate. I wasn't sure we had enough gas to make it eight miles down this road, then eight miles back if we were unsuccessful in our quest, then another 38 or so miles down the freeway to the next gas station. But I was equally unsure if we had enough gas to make it another 38 miles down the freeway. I was inwardly cursing my negligence, and outwardly cursing IDOT their false advertising of the gas pump. But that was all I had to go on, that little picture of the gas pump. It was precious little knowledge, but I put my faith in it. But as we continued down this dark road, I had my daughter call 911 to get reassurance that there was indeed gas at the end of the road and that we weren't just driving off into nowhere and would be at the mercy of a deranged serial killer who we were sure was just waiting for us to run out of gas and would then rub his hands with glee and pounce! I said some choice words, words I'm not proud to have uttered in the presence of my children, but I was worried!
Just then, as we reached the end of the winding road, off to the left I spotted an Exxon sign. The gas station itself was closed, but the pumps were open to credit card purchases. Yeah! Success! I put 20.5 gallons of gas in a 20 gallon tank! What relief! We then made our way the eight miles back to the freeway, and continued on our journey home.
I've reflected on this experience since then, and have thought that it was analogous to our life's journey. At least with regards to faith. Faith has to be based on knowledge. Hope doesn't need anything; it just is. I would have never gone down that dark road in search of gas with only hope for a companion. But IDOT had provided me with a small nugget of knowledge when they posted the picture of the gas pump, and with that I had enough to proceed. However, I questioned that little bit of knowledge, and went in pursuit of reassurance by calling 911, someone I knew would be able to provide me with what I needed to continue. And fortunately, we were successful and were able to safely continue our journey home that night. Foiled the serial killer's plans!
I wish God, or the powers that be, would be so inclined to post a little picture for me along the wayside, giving me a bit of knowledge on which to base my journey. I have hope that somewhere at the end of the road is what I seek, but so far no knowledge. Others seem to think they've gained that knowledge, but I don't share this view. I just hope I don't run out of gas before I see a sign!
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