Monday night, I was in the fx on the way home from aikido. I wasn’t particularly sleepy, but I had just enough brain power to stay awake. That is, until I noticed our fx driver. (I was in the front, that questionable seat, so I could see him quite well).
He was a giant! Our driver was slouching enough in his seat for a gap to appear between his back and the seat-back, but his head was brushing the fx ceiling. His knees were so high they were right below the steering wheel, higher than the stickshift. (He had to reach down down down just to reach the stickshift). His hands were large, so much so that the steering wheel seemed a toy. And yet, he needed both hands to turn it in short sideways jerks, since his elbows had no room to move the wheel.
What on earth is he doing in the driver’s seat of an fx? I wondered. He seems so…sorely out of place. Happily, because my brain was too asleep to stop itself, I imagined him in different occupations. Lumberjack? Soldier? Frankenstein?
And then the thought occurred to me that I was a teensy 5-footer beside this giant. Hmmm, I thought. You’re coming from aikido, but could you stand a chance against a giant like that if he attacked? Probably not, my rational self decided. And then I turned my eyes back on the road.
Humility is a funny thing. It is part and parcel of self-control, and comes hand-in-hand with faith. I knew, rationally, that my own teensy self was no match for the giant driving the fx. But I know, by faith, that nothing in this world even comes close to a match for my bigger-than-the-galaxies God .