Becoming a spiritual hybrid.

The Prius was in front of me on the highway (not for long), and, as I looked at the hybrid, I thought about these new types of cars. Although far from a mechanic, my understanding is that hybrids operate on two kinds of fuel. When charged, they run on the quiet and clean power of electricity. If needed, the engine switches over to gasoline which causes the engine to be louder and burn carbon monoxide. The car gets from one place to another regardless of the fuel used, but how that journey is made is markedly different.

Although I know I need to buy a hybrid someday soon, for the moment I was thinking about the similarities between me and such cars. Like them, I operate on two types of fuel. On the surface the fuels cause the same outcome, they move me from one place to another, but, how they work is very different. One causes me to operate quietly and in harmony with the world around me, the other is louder and lets off toxic gases of its own.

The first type of fuel available is grace. Grounded in my own humanity, aware of the daily examples of my imperfections, I marvel at a creator who loves me anyway. Knowing how undeserved such love is, I am more quiet about the imperfections of others. I live in harmony with those around me and accept the twists and turns of my journey.

The second type of fuel is fear and is equally effective at getting me from here to there, but the ride is different. Aggression and speed become of paramount importance, and God help anyone who stands in my way or wants something. The noise I make and toxic exhaust I emit, leave those around me holding their ears and gasping for air.

The question is not whether I can operate on one type of fuel exclusively. I can’t. Maybe you can. I can’t. Maybe it’s enough to be aware of the two types of fuel. I may even develop the ability to use one type more than the other, but the gasoline will slosh from side to side in the tank, waiting for the moment when the pressures and anxieties of life cause me to switch my engine over.

I wish it were not so, but I also wish I was six foot two, handsome and a good speller. For now, I’ll just look out my window and try to see the lessons God is trying to teach me.