“Thong should be here in just a minute,” my husband said.
“Thong?” I asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Yeah, it’s probably either a woman in a very skimpy swimsuit or an Asian man,” he quipped.
And that was my introduction to the modern phenomenon of ridesharing. If you’re not familiar with ridesharing, let me pause and lovingly call you a dinosaur. I get it. I’m a dinosaur at heart myself, having been forcibly dragged into the modern techie world by my husband.
But maybe you’ve heard or read about Uber or Lyft? Those are ridesharing companies. In a nutshell, they allow people to use smartphone apps to arrange rides in privately owned vehicles. (If you don’t know what smartphones and apps are, I’m afraid you need more updating than I have space in this column to provide.)
My husband began using Uber drivers on business trips. I was pretty sure he’d get in a car driven by a suicidal terrorist or serial killer and end up on a “Dateline” episode. The whole thing seemed fraught with peril, but Joe kept having good experiences with it, as did others I know. I had to admit it really wasn’t any more risky than riding in a cab and I’ve ridden in cabs before, even in New York City, and lived to tell about it.
So when we were in California recently visiting our son and his family and Joe suggested we use Lyft to get to the airport, I decided I was ready for my maiden ridesharing voyage.
We stood in the lobby of our hotel, Joe used his phone app to summon a driver, and within seconds, he got confirmation that Thong would arrive shortly in a white Chevy to pick us up. The app even allowed us to see on a map where Thong was as he made his way to us.
Sure enough, in just a few minutes, here came our driver. Well, almost. Thong’s GPS actually took him to a building next door to our hotel, but we were able to wave him over our way. I was immediately relieved that Thong was indeed his name and not a description of what he was wearing.
Thong was very friendly and wove through traffic on that California freeway like Michael Jordan maneuvering around defenders on his way to the hoop. He did have a somewhat disturbing twitch that made me a bit uneasy, though. For some reason, the right side of his torso jerked noticeably forward every few seconds. But it didn’t seem to affect his driving skills and Thong got us to the airport safe and sound. As we parted ways, he even handed me several packs of airplane snacks. Friends forever.
Later, as I sat on the plane, I was pondering just how often we entrust our lives to total strangers and how strange that is. Already that day, I’d trusted a McDonald’s employee not to poison my coffee, Thong not to drive us to the desert to murder us, and the pilot of our plane not to crash.
It’s no small deal to get in a car or plane with a total stranger at the helm. It’s also very trusting to eat food when we have no idea who cooked it or what’s in it. But we do it all the time, usually without a second thought. We just assume people are good and competent.
So why don’t we trust God that way? Is it that we don’t think He’s real, or that He’s good, or that He’s competent? It’s surely one of those.
And all God’s people, most especially me, said, “Ouch.”
“Let not your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in Me.”—John 14:1
“… Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!”—Mark 9:24