Confessions of Dust: My Wake Up Ride

It was a long day today. One of those days that drags for no reason at all, as if time itself takes some perverse pleasure in stretching longer than usual. Strange, really, since I recall certain family gatherings bending time in the same way… perhaps worth future consideration.

I decided not to put the music on. I felt it in my Spirit that today was one of those days to be present with every small moment. The day itself was a blur — I left the house later than I would have liked — but I remember clearly that many followers of Christ rode in my car. Many hurting, many in need of encouragement, many in need of a prayer whispered on their behalf, unknown and unseen.

I drove nearly ten hours, giving about thirty rides. Among them was one I will not forget. A man near death. He was emaciated, skeletal — a huge man, perhaps 6’5”, yet weighing scarcely 100 pounds. I picked him up from the hospital, and I could see the light had already gone from his eyes.

Was that missing light the disease consuming him, or had he surrendered long before? I knew he was a gift: a brush with mortality for this poet, a call to prayer for a soul whose name I may never know. We spoke, and I silently prayed, but I was shaken. I was confronted with my polar opposite, and it revealed a shallowness I wish weren’t true. I had not pulled close enough to the curb when he struggled to take even the shallowest of steps. Why did I not offer to help him inside?

That failure stayed with me all day, for his ride was one of my first. We can all fail — and we will — but we need not stay down or remain defeated. I name this now in confession and repentance.

And now it is evening. The lights are low, and as I sit to reflect and unwind, I realize this: the first ride was a wake-up call and an opportunity for a blessing had I been compassionate enough. It was a call to be present, to turn down the noise, to listen more than I speak, to truly interact with both my riders and with Him in prayer. They will never know I prayed for them, and that is as it should be. For the prayer was never for them — it was for Him, and to draw me a little closer into the likeness of Yeshua.

When we do the things He did, we become like Him.

As always, Dust,

To you,

For you,

From Him,

In me.