The Right Road

Riding a bike at a fast clip just to see how far one can travel without having to apply the break is exhilarating. Throw in the fact that I was pedaling on a road that was forbidden, well, that would make the adventure even more appealing to some.

The street that ran in front of my parents’ home was best known for its similarity to a race track. Back in the 1970s, the neighborhood houses were lined up and down with teenagers who were on the verge of getting their license, were already drivers, or were about to lose their behind-the-wheel privileges for exceeding the speed limit way past the posted recommendation. Many times a day it was the squealing of tires that reverberated through the living room announcing that another young motorist had gone by.

Had the words,  “Chris, you are not allowed to ride your bike on that street,” ever been spoken? Or, was I just born with that knowledge? It was a well known fact that Olive Street was off limits. The road that was behind our house was deserted, so by order of household authority that is where bike safety abounded. With no cars and no people passing, it was a wasteland of boring.

“Let’s go ride our bikes on Olive Street,” the neighbor girl suggested as we both had grown tired of No Man’s Land. There was a sharp prick in my heart at the thought, but I shoved it aside.

“Okay,” I replied.

Unknown to my biking companion, there were quick glances thrown over the shoulder every few minutes to be sure I wasn’t spotted. After a few moments, a sweet realization came.   My mother wasn’t home, and my brother Jim was in charge.  He knew I was over at a friend’s house, so the coast was clear.  I let myself relax into the glory of the wind blowing through my hair and the cars whizzing by us.  With no sidewalk available, getting hit by a vehicle was an ever present threat, but it felt good and fun to be so free.   Nothing bad was going to happen. Then, he appeared.  My right foot instinctively hit the pedal backward to make it break.  The handlebars shielded me from flying forward. The only sound was panicked breathing and the crunch of gravel under the back tire.

“You know mom doesn’t want you to ride your bike on this street.”  I thought Jim had been in the house preoccupied with TV. “If you are going to ride your bike, go over to Norway.”  Caught in the act of treason!

He didn’t approach me but called out to me from the end of the driveway. The oncoming wrath that I was expecting didn’t happen. Why wasn’t he dragging me back to our house and reprimanding the whole way? He just stood watching while we turned and headed for the desolate, empty street.

“Are you in trouble?” my friend inquired once we were out of his line of vision. There is an unwritten set of codes by which all children judge whether or not misfortune is about to visit. It’s a simple, yet effective tool used to measure the onslaught that may be coming once one is caught red handed.

“He didn’t come and get me or yell.” The incident had not elicited either of these responses which are the highest on the “you are in trouble” list.

We spent a few more minutes riding and then gave up and went home. Not getting barked at was just downright unsettling. At least a person knows where she stands when a reprimand is given or a privilege is taken away. Nothing of the sort had happened. I had just been redirected in a very assertive, calm manner. That wasn’t normal. With the bike safely in the garage, and mom’s car still not there, that only meant one thing. I had to face him inside.

He opened the door to let me in the house. Maybe he had taken some time to think about what he was going to say. That could be worse than the knee jerk reaction of immediate scolding. Putting thought into something like this could mean a punishment far worse than usual.

“I am not going to tell Mom that I saw you riding your bike on the street today. Just don’t do it again. If you do, then I will tell her.”

Disbelief and shock cannot even describe the relief that swept over my entire being. Yet, this just wasn’t the usual way that issues proceeded in our home. If the offender was caught, the perpetrator was given his or her fair punishment. Being let go without any type of penance was unheard of!

That night, sleep would not come as the tears flowed. The warning from my brother had not seemed like enough. He had every right to go to my mom and let her know of the rebellious behavior he had witnessed. Yet, he had chosen only to warn me and give me another chance. The pressure of not being put into my proper place was just too much for me to take. After a restless night, I burst into the kitchen sobbing the next morning. Mom glanced up from her coupons and grocery list that took up the entire table. The emotional outburst was so heavy that words would not come out no matter the effort that was exerted. Every time I went to tell her what was wrong, nothing came out. She waited patiently through the uproar and said,
“Why are you so upset?” Her brow was furrowed and she looked concerned. That brought on a new upheaval because she seemed concerned about my well being, and I was about to reveal that I wasn’t trustworthy. After many attempts to tell the truth, the words came out in a jumbled up blubbering foreign language.

“I-I r-rode my b-bike on the str-eet.”

“On Olive Street?”

“Y-yes. Jim saw me and he said he wouldn’t tell.” She sat back in her chair and stared at me. Here it was, and lock down was on its way. The ultimate punishment was coming, I just knew it.

“That disappoints me that you would ride your bike on the street after I told you not to.” Waiting for more, the silence surrounded us. The staring continued. I figured talking might ease the tension.

“It wasn’t my fault. I knew I wasn’t supposed to go there, but I did because I was asked to.  I couldn’t say no.”

“That really disappoints me that you would do something that I asked you not to do.” The blame had been directly placed back in my lap. Shame came next as no harsh words were spoken. “Don’t do it again. I want to be able to trust you.” Those last words were the crushing blow to make the heart heavier. Sadness joined the shame.

There was nothing more than that, and she went back to making out her list as if nothing had happened. The lack of lecture and no sentencing was all so disquieting.

It took days before remorse subsided, and it wasn’t until I was much older that the tires of my bike touched Olive Street. Years passed before the truth came out that Jim had informed her of my illegal biking. He had approached her when she had arrived home that day as a warning so she could keep a closer eye on my outdoor activities. The understanding was that she had the information, but she was not to let on that she knew what I had done. Both of them figured that I would correct my behavior without a word being spoken.  Instead, the disgrace of betraying my mom’s trust had led to my painful confession. With foreknowledge, she was able to sit through the torment without much of a reaction and receive my apology. The situation resolved itself because of my confession and her forgiveness.

This was my foretaste of the character of God and who He is in the life of a believer. Just as Jim had seen the wrongful and dangerous actions that I had partaken in, God sees and hears everything we do. Just because we don’t think He is around, doesn’t mean He isn’t. He is observing all of our ways.  And, the advantage that He has over people is that He can hear what we are thinking. You may be smiling at someone and pretending to be nice, but on the inside you are wondering when you can escape their presence. The party you are annoyed with may never know your true feelings, but He does. For those who think they can dodge His penetrating sight, Proverbs 15:3 makes this declaration:

“The eyes of the Lord are in every place, keeping watch upon the evil and the good.” (Amplified Bible)

What does God do with our offenses? Does He store them up until the pot overflows and then strike His wrath upon us? I believe God operates in much the same way Jim treated me.  Silently He waits for our words of regret. He lets events play out where we make wrong choices, we say the wrong things, we don’t ask Him what to do, or we outwardly disobey His instructions. And behind the scenes of our lives, He patiently remains until we turn again and seek out His love that is constantly drawing us to Him. He doesn’t have to say a word. He doesn’t have to lecture us or beat us over the head repeatedly. The only thing God wants from us is the apology and the correction of not repeating the same mistake twice. And, by chance if we do, the same process begins again. This may come as a surprise, but He already knows what you have done.  He can sit calmly through your acknowledgement, not be angry, and offer you forgiveness.

Does this mean that we can sin and not suffer consequences? Think of my story. If I continued to ride my bike on the street regardless of my mother’s rule, our relationship would have deteriorated. I would have been lacking respect for her and she would not have trusted me. When we don’t listen or we disobey our Heavenly Father, we are not honoring the One who created us. Yet, He is loving enough to extend to us an olive branch of peace when we come to Him and ask for forgiveness. The violation is absolved and we again resume our rightful place with Him. However, if you decide to dismiss Him, don’t expect a fulfilling spiritual life.

What drove me to confess? My guilt and the misalignment I was in with my mother. When our spirits are connected with the Lord, our hearts are soft and sensitive to His Spirit prompting us to do the right thing. Ignore this enough, and the petitions to change your ways will become quieter and eventually seem to diminish. God loves us so much that He sends out a warning system through our entire being to encourage our turnabout. However, if that doesn’t work, He will use people, media or other avenues to grab hold of our attention. Why? Because He loves us. He longs for fellowship with us to the extreme, and He desires good for us in all that we undertake. God wants us to succeed, and when we are out of line with Him, nothing works quite as it should.

We find ourselves again in the month where love is celebrated. If you find yourself  in a place that doesn’t seem comfortable with your Heavenly Father, sit down and send Him a valentine. It doesn’t require lace or fine material. You don’t need a writing instrument or any paper. If it is time to say “I’m sorry,” let that be the words you say. Come to Him and offer up your heart and let Him put you back on the right road.