Brushed Against My Tent

I brushed up against the edges of my tent today with a particularly challenging rider. When I say tent, I mean my body — the temporary housing I was given until graduation into eternity (2 Corinthians 5:1).

I do rideshare for work when I am not writing. Over the past three years, I’ve given more than 7,500 trips. About one rider in a thousand turns out difficult. Today was one of those.

A young woman got in after I had already waited seven minutes. Technically, we drivers are only paid to wait five, and we may cancel after that, so long as we call first. But I stayed — the fare looked good, worth the time. She asked me to wait longer for her boyfriend. I thought it would be another five minutes. Instead, it turned into more than thirty.

When they finally climbed in, he began calling me a “cracker” to his girlfriend, talking as if I wasn’t there. I had music playing quietly, but soon he put his phone on speaker and blasted his own.

That was the moment.

A low ember of fury roused itself in my chest — like bile rising in the throat, like a porcupine bristling at an intrusion. I wanted to slam the brakes, tell them to get out, and lace my dismissal with profanity.

But instead, I recognized the emotion and started asking questions:

Why do I feel this way? Do I want to continue feeling this way? Do I have to act on it?

My mind questioned the anger. My flesh demanded release. Then my heart entered the conversation, reminding me what I actually wanted: not rage, but peace. That was when I prayed, asking God to help me feel something other than anger.

And in that moment, I understood Paul more deeply. “We wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against rulers, against authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Ephesians 6:12). Yes we even wrestle with challenging backseat riders while doing Lyft.

I felt the war Paul described in Romans 7: “I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing… Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?” (Romans 7:19, 24). My flesh urged me to lash out. My emotions fed the flame. But my mind offered patience. And the Father, dwelling within, gently showed me another way.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control” (Galatians 5:22 — 23). That fruit began to ripen in me the moment I chose to listen. It would be a lie if i said i felt cheerful towards this person even after my prayer, but i noticed after the prayer that the heat was fading from the fire.

He praises me when I resist the pull of the flesh. He lifts me up when I fail. He dusts me off when I feel crushed.

Today, I learned again how emotion, wisdom, and faith meet in conflict. I learned that anger can burn, but patience reframes it. And I learned more of Him — the One who guides me, if I will only listen.

Sincerely Dust,

To you,

For you,

From Him,

In Me