I remember my first real taste of freedom. It was November 22nd, 2005 — the day I turned 17. Just a couple months before, I had successfully passed my second driving test, bringing me one step closer to my full driver's license. For any Ontarians out there, you know how grueling the process is to get your driver's license, so it definitely felt like an achievement.
It's what they call a graduated system involving three levels of licensing. After a theory test, a road test, a $500 driver's ed class, and a year of waiting, I had earned what is called a "G2" license – step 2 out of a 3 level system. Though it looked no different, I held that card in my hands like it was a sacred artifact. That piece of plastic gave me the freedom to drive solo without an experienced driver, granted I followed some rules, of course.
But that didn't stop me. For that night, I had made plans to borrow my parents' car. Thanks to their cooperation, I was able to scheme that I would drive all my friends and I to the movie theatre to celebrate my day of birth! It was a thrilling experience, and at the same time terrifying.
I wasn't used to driving with four loud obnoxious teens, myself included. It was near impossible to focus on the road and though probably none of my passengers noticed, I'm sure I maneuvered myself out of some near collisions. The 25-minute car drive felt like an eternity when the safety of my friends, myself, and my parents' car safety rested in my hands — or rather the skill they held. A skill in its infancy that now was being tested, and tried in the real world.
Independence didn't seem as appealing anymore. Independence now meant more responsibility. Responsibility meant more consequences, both positive and not.
It has taken years to grow into my adult shoes, and still everyday I encounter a new lesson to be learned. With each new experience comes great thrill and excitement but I become more aware that my choices cost me - and others - a lot more than before.
But that great risk affords great reward and the depths of our poverty determine the heights of our redemption.
It makes me think of the immoral woman in the Bible who washed Jesus' feet with her tears. She
had a great treasure that only her difficult life could provide - she had sinned much and so she was forgiven much.
Would we ourselves not lose the value of our own personal treasures God has so lovingly given us - the extravagance of his mercy and commitment. As the chasm between the depth of our depravity and the height of the grace God lavishes upon us continues to grow, would we continue to have "great faith" like the centurion and recognize and see Jesus' authority as King and Lord.
God is a good Father who gives good gifts, but I pray I never let them go to waste. I am reminded of Jesus' words that to those who are given much, much is expected (Luke 12:48).
And I'll be the first to say God has given me much. And I will do everything paradoxically in my power and in my surrender to continue working the harvest with the gifts with which He's entrusted me until my Master returns.
Yes like that of a newly acquired driver's license, with authority comes great responsibility, but should we choose to respond to it also gives birth to great reward of eternal consequence.
I yearn to return to God but a fraction of the good He's sown in my life and would we commit to do this by feeding others with the very fruit God grows in our lives and hearts.
