Every generation has its favorite “life was so hard” stories to shame younger folks into thankfulness.
“We had to walk five miles to school, even when the snow was three feet deep.”
“We were thrilled if we got an orange in our Christmas stocking.”
For my generation, I guess our biggie is that we had only one or two TV channels to watch, and no cell phones, internet or video games. That’s not much to complain about, but it did mean we had to look a little harder to find fun things to do on long summer days.
When my friends and I scraped together some babysitting money, we sometimes liked to rent tandem bicycles. It was always good for a few laughs, but only if I could ride in the front seat. The person sitting in the back of those bicycles-built-for-two couldn’t steer and the few times I tried it, I was miserable and found myself furiously and futilely trying to turn those immovable handlebars.
Okay, armchair psychologists, have at it. Oh wait, I’ll save you the trouble because yes, I know that story screams CONTROL FREAK.
But one day, my dad came home with the best gift ever: a strange, homemade tandem bike that could be steered from both the front and the back. The handlebars moved in unison, so the rider with the most muscle power determined where the bike went. I loved that thing.
Something recently reminded me of these tandem-riding experiences and I realized there might be a metaphor there for the mysterious interplay between God’s sovereignty and man’s free will. Perhaps this wouldn’t have occurred to me had I not been taking pain medication after shoulder surgery, but it did help me, I think, better visualize this weighty theological concept.
It seems to me most people refuse to even consider getting on a tandem with God. They want their own bike—a single-seater. Whether familiar or not with William Ernest Henley’s famous poem, “Invictus,” these folks embrace the spirit of its last lines: “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.”
Others claim to be “sharing a bike” with God, sporting a “God is my co-pilot” bumper sticker and feeling good about that. So long, that is, as God rides in back with handlebars that don’t turn. (As if the omnipotent God could be rendered so helpless.) They want to know He’s back there, but only in case a tire goes flat or the chain falls off. “I’ll call You if I need You” seems to be their motto.
And then there’s a third group: the few who want to ride in tandem with God and understand that although both handlebars function, it’s so much better to relinquish control to the One who is stronger and wiser—God. Not to say they never question His turns, but ultimately, they choose to trust Him and go where He leads.
I know sincere Christians disagree over issues related to God’s sovereignty and man’s free will, but as for me, I do think our life journey with God is at least a bit like a ride on that weird tandem my dad brought home. I don’t think God forces us to sit in the back with immovable handlebars. I think He gives us some freedom to “steer,” but since He alone knows how to get us from here to the best “there,” the only smart and good way to go is His way.
And to make the ride less stressful, the Bible is full of promises like this: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope (Jeremiah 29:11).’”
Let’s hop on the back and enjoy the ride!