Reading (and Driving) With Humility

Reading with pride is worthless. Why bother? If you’re not open to being challenged, what’s the point?

I don’t expect anyone to agree with one hundred percent of anything I write, and I don’t expect to agree with everything another author writes.[i] But sometimes, the things I dismiss most quickly are the very things I need to hear, heed, and consider.

John Mark Comer’s book The Ruthless Elimination of Hurry has become very popular for all the right reasons. I loved it. It has one of the best chapters on the sabbath that I’ve ever read. John Mark lost me a little bit, though, when he talked about downsizing his wardrobe from five outfits to two; I’m not sure anyone could live in Colorado’s four seasons with just two outfits—but the charge toward simplicity certainly convicted me that there’s a lot of room between two outfits and a hundred. So I got rid of some (I don’t think I ever had a hundred outfits, but I’m writing this at the church and I’m not about to go home to count).

One thing my wife and I laughed about, though, is when John Mark recommends driving the speed limit. In some cities we’ve been in, we feel like that could get you killed.

Seriously.

Then Travelers Insurance came around.

We recently switched insurance policies from another carrier, and Travelers said that if we downloaded this app, which evaluates our driving for ninety days, we might qualify for a significant discount. I liked the thought of the discount, and I figured it could be a way to gloat a little bit in my marriage. Lisa and I mutually agree that I’m a better driver, but now we’d have demonstrable data. Sadly for me, two weeks into our experiment, Lisa’s score was higher than mine. I am now driving like a grandma trying to win back some respect. I mean, this could redefine our 41 years together. If I’m not the better driver, what else am I mistaken about? Horror of horrors! I’ve got to fix this!

Anyway, driving the speed limit (which gets evaluated) at first felt painful. Ugh! And then I’d forget, and slip ten miles over and the whole trip would get a lower score. I’ve never gone crazy speed-wise—I haven’t gotten a speeding ticket in decades—but I like to hang out just below the danger zone.

We flew out to Washington State earlier this summer to support and cheer on my youngest daughter as she ran a half-marathon, and there were two rides of over two hours to get there and back. And I drove the whole way within one or two miles of the speed limit. Here’s what I found: it’s so much more pleasant! When I’m going seven, eight, or nine miles over the speed limit, I have to keep changing lanes. And then I get frustrated with drivers who drive slower in the left-hand lane on a two-lane highway, and really frustrated with drivers who view their role as “equalizers” and drive the speed limit in the left hand lane next to another driver in the right-hand lane, also going the speed limit, so that no one can pass. (Though equalizers might be on the right side of the law, they are not nice people.)

Driving the speed limit, I’d set myself in the middle lane (on a three or four-lane highway), let cars pass me on either side, and just chill. And guess what? I also found out that speeding doesn’t get you there all that much faster (unless you’re going crazy and willing to risk a ticket). Driving close to the speed limit is truly a better way to drive and to live. I might even keep doing it after the ninety days are over. Though doing so might delay my arrival by a minute or two, it’s far more peaceful and enjoyable and much less stressful. Granted, my experiment was in Washington State, not Boston or New York, but it was interesting.

All this got me to thinking: what other “rules” or advice do we scoff at (drive the speed limit? Hah! Two sets of clothes? Are you kidding me?) that seem so outlandish we don’t even consider them, but they might be right?

I often hear some scoff at the notion that if they’d be more faithful in prayer, Bible study and personal worship that joy, spiritual strength, and an increased intimacy with God will come back—that’s such a cliché!—but isn’t that “rule” usually true? It might be callous to present it with an unfeeling heart, but it’s never bad advice, and usually very good advice.

My book coming out this fall (The Life You Were Reborn to Live: Dismantling Twelve Lies that Rob Your Intimacy with God) has a chapter on finding and living with peace. Peace is one of the best things about being a Christian. There’s nothing else like it, and no one can know the supernatural peace that a Christian can know, because only the person and message of Jesus sets up what we need to experience peace in a precarious and fallen world. And the ancients provide a handy guidebook to get there, which I cover in the book.

Guess what? Driving the speed limit adds to my peace (if the book weren’t already finished, I’d have another story/analogy to add). What do I gain when I drive too fast? Maybe a couple minutes. What price do I pay? Frustration with other drivers. Missing the sights I’m passing. The fear of getting pulled over lest my eight miles over become twelve miles over…

The tradeoff of going a little slower is enormous, so the choice isn’t that hard: arriving three minutes later with a heart and mind at peace, or five minutes sooner with a frazzled, angry, adrenaline-laced spirit and a half hour of mentally fighting with and berating people I’ve never met and will never know.

So, sometimes you might read something that seems so crazy you don’t even consider it.

But maybe, just maybe, you should.

*Post contains affiliate links.*

---

[i] After I wrote this, John Mark Comer published a tweet challenging the classical understanding of penal substitutionary atonement. I believe PSA is true, but also that it’s not exclusive of other perspectives such as Christus Victor.