Sometimes, I wonder if I am too confident in God. This is the thought that was crossing my mind as I sat in my living room after returning home from getting gas and groceries. My car decided to sing a rather concerning song after being refilled with gas. It was not the usual upbeat drum of gears, belts, and metal. It hummed like tenors opening a gospel song. It was strong, but faint. Either way, something was wrong with my car.
Still, I sat on my couch, eating the meal I had cooked for the day with the groceries I had gathered, trusting that my trip to Dallas to see my brother would not be derailed unless God intended it to be. My car had three days. If something was truly wrong, it would let me know before then.
One the first day, it rode like it normally does, but the choir sang in the background. I rode to work like this, listening to this new track my car was determined to release on a random Monday. I had begun to notice, whenever I was above 30mph, the tenor would become closer to an alto. It did not lower with brakes. It did not reach the height of soprano. It remained in that near-alto pitch until returned to beneath 30mph.
I couldn’t figure out the melody. I experimented as I went. Accelerating faster did nothing. Braking hard didn’t help. Turn left, and it hummed. Turn right, and it hummed just the same. The drums continued on with the hum of the tenors. Confidence was sinking, but I had made it to work. What was wrong with my car? I wouldn’t be able to find out on my own, and besides, work was the priority.
The second day, it was more of the same. The hymnal ringing like conviction in my ear. Why didn’t I see a mechanic? Why am I trying to handle this on my own? Why am I so afraid to spend money on inspections? Yet, the purring engine remained in full strength. My car was not driving slower. It was handling just fine. It got me home and it got me to work again. Surely, it would let me know the issue soon.
I began to imagine a random hole in the engine created by some errant rock colliding with it on the highway. My car wasn’t humming, the wind was blowing. Maybe the wind was letting me know it was exposed. My mind, as it often does, corrected me. How can it be the wind when it remains to hum while idle? Back to the drawing board. Two days to go.
I was nervous. I had to drive 250 miles for three and a half hours in less than 72 hours. What if my car broke down on the way there? What if I made it to Dallas and couldn’t make it back? How far do tow trucks tow? How much am I covered for?
“No,” I thought. “I’m not going to be afraid. Whatever is wrong with my car will reveal itself. I am going to Dallas.” Again, with this audacious confidence. Who was I to think this way? My car was making a strange sound. It sounded like money spilling from my pocket. Yet, here I was, still planning on spending money to take a trip.
I began to text my brother. I told him what was going on, but that I was still coming. He would just have to drive his car while I was in town. I was totally confident that my car could make it. It had already done 100 miles with this new tune. What’s 600-700 more?
Wednesday, the last day before my trip. If the choir was going to bring the Holy Spirit into the atmosphere, it would have to be today. Tomorrow, no matter what, I was going to Dallas. I remained confident for no reason. I trusted God would see me through. He had done so before.
Years ago, when I was younger and less financially stable, my radiator began to leak. I could not afford maintenance. I could not take major hits to my finances. Yet, God sent His children to bless me with extra tips. I had gotten just enough extra money to pay $300 for a new radiator. My brother had just enough time to help me replace my old radiator. I had avoided disaster before in what I would deem to be miraculous, or, at the very least, extremely fortunate circumstances. I trusted God would provide again.
As I went to start my car to go to work, it coughed and started with a deeper beat than normal. It was the kind of cough that a person makes when they inhale too much seasoning or their mouth dries up just a tad bit too much. A few coughs, and then back to normal. My car doesn’t normally start up this way, so I turned it off and tried again.
When I started the car a second time, the cough was more delayed and more intense, like the first cough you experience when you have strep throat. It is hard. It is rough. It is the type of cough that makes you wonder, “What is wrong with my throat!? Oh my God!” I turned the car off again.
Once more, I turned the key in the ignition. All I heard was constant wheezing. It was like that person with allergies who coughs with phlegm. You can tell its sinus related. I could tell it was battery or alternator related. I turned the key again, and like a large taser in the hands of a coward, it sparked but didn’t not connect.
Normally, I would be upset that my car didn’t work when I needed it to, but I was relieved. The gospel was sung and the manifestation shortly followed. Why aren’t all choirs like this?
I called my cousin, who, of course, managed to be at work at his shop up the street from me. I called in a favor, and he affirmed in the same nature he always does. Ten minutes later, he pulled up to my house to help.
Whenever a car refuses to start, my mind goes to two places: the battery or the starter. After taking the battery to the auto store, and hearing that they could charge my battery for an hour and a half, I contemplated the problems source. I had to replace a battery before. My car did not hum when that obstacle came into my path a year prior. It couldn’t have been the starter because the sparks were powerful when the key turned in the ignition. There was only one answer: the alternator.
I had to be at work. I didn’t want to waste an hour and a half for the main source of my problem to be the alternator and not the battery. The battery would only last a short time if the alternator was broken. Imagine being two hours late to work and leave work shortly after to find your battery dead again. No, that would not be me.
I went back home, had my cousin give me a jump, and returned to the store. It was indeed the alternator. Thus, my expenses jumped from $150 to $300. Still, I was not upset. As I said before, I was more financially stable than I was the last time a part failed. I had learned the heart of God already. No new lessons needed. God saved me again.
I listened as the clerk explained that a bad alternator would’ve caused the car to shut off mid-drive. Imagine going to Dallas, but having to stop in Madisonville. Imagine reaching Dallas, but the lights turning off in the middle of the night, forcing me to have to come to the side of the road 250 miles away from home. I knew I was saved again, and I was happy. I wasn’t terrified; I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t angry. I was at peace. God was doing God and saving me from bad decisions again. This is why I say, “God be God-ing.”
After the purchase, I went home and waited for my brother to get off. He, the real mechanic, showed me just how easy it was to replace the alternator, as he had done with the radiator. Thirty minutes later, I put my key into the ignition, turned it forward, and listened to my car play the old tune I had grown accustomed to. Call me old school, but there’s no new song like it.
It did not need a choir in the background. The beat of the drum and ring of the metal was enough. Pistons pumping, gears rotating, and fans whirling. This was the only song I cared to hear. The choir was silenced as life returned to normal. Relieved, I was able to tell my brother in Dallas that the trip was still on and I would not need assistance getting around. God did what He has always done: showed up and covered me from myself.
My journey to and from Dallas consisted of lots of praise and worship. It is strange to trust in God, but rewarding. My trust was at the point of knowing God will save me even if I remain still. No panic, but preparation. He will show me where the problem lies. All I have to do is be prepared to respond when I am needed.
You can say batteries only last a certain amount of time once the alternator goes out and that’s why it happened before you made it to Dallas. You can say cars function this way. You can explain a normal circumstance away like anything else. I choose to recognize and know that I was where God was once again.
This time, He was at my house, chilling with me, getting ready to protect me from an alternator going out on the road. I could’ve been driving. I could’ve been anywhere but home. Instead, I was exactly in the position that was best for me to be: at home, where my cousin was up the street, and my brother was down the road. God doesn’t get anymore God than He is for me. God be God-ing.
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