Cross Into LIFE
Freedom Dynamics
ROAD
Learning God's ways through the language of the road.
I don't really remember when roads started speaking to me. I don't think there was one moment. It was more like little things, one after another, until one day I realized I had been collecting them for years.
One of the very first goes all the way back to before my husband and I got married. We had only met once in Russia. Two years later he suddenly showed up in America looking for me. He bought a plane ticket from France just to spend two days with me. I wasn't even home when he arrived. My father talked with him until after midnight, and only then did I come home.
Two days went by very quickly.
Soon it was already time to drive him back to the airport. We had maybe forty minutes before we needed to leave. Suddenly he said, "I'm going to change the oil in your car."
I remember thinking, Now?
We didn't have much money, so doing it himself meant saving us the cost of taking the car to a garage. He changed into old clothes, crawled underneath the car, and started changing the oil. I remember looking at the clock and thinking that this was the very last thing he chose to do before leaving for the airport.
That simple act spoke to me much more deeply than I could explain at the time. I felt genuinely cared for. I saw dignity in him. It wasn't something he was trying to prove. It was simply who he was.
I also remember what my father said after we came back from the airport. He looked at me and simply said, "I thought people like this didn't exist anymore."
That stayed with me too.
Years later he started using an expression that always made me smile. Whenever he felt he needed a fresh touch from the Lord, whenever he knew it was time to come back into fresh fellowship with Him instead of continuing on yesterday's strength, he would simply say,
"I need an oil change."
After a while I almost forgot those were words borrowed from a car.
Then my own car decided to become a teacher.
I think there was one month when it was in the garage three different times. One repair after another. Since I was the one paying for them, I became very curious. The mechanic started explaining all these complicated things, and I kept asking, "No, but what does this part actually do? And this one? Why does this tiny thing cost so much?"
I remember one repair in particular. Some little gasket had failed somewhere deep inside the engine. Such a tiny thing. Yet to get to it they almost had to take the whole engine apart.
I just stood there looking at it.
All this... because of that little thing?
Another time I was in a hurry. A real hurry. Of course wherever I was going was important. Of course. Obviously. Naturally. I honestly don't even remember anymore where I was trying to get. I don't remember whether I went through a red light or made a wrong turn. I only remember one thing. Suddenly there was a police car behind me, and I was genuinely surprised.
I remember thinking, What? Why are you stopping me? Can't you see I'm in a hurry? I have to get there! It honestly didn't make sense to me. In my mind, my meeting was important enough that everybody else should somehow understand. I wasn't trying to do anything bad. I just needed to get there.
Only later it hit me. Wait a second... from where he was standing, my meeting wasn't his responsibility at all. His responsibility was the road. His responsibility was the people driving on that road. That was his job. That was what he would answer for. He couldn't just look at me and think, Well, she seems to have a good reason. I'll let this one go.
And somehow I saw myself in that. How often do I expect God to make an exception because my plans seem important? As if my urgency changes what is true. But the signs are still the signs. They don't stop protecting life just because I'm in a hurry. In fact, they matter most exactly when I'm in a hurry.
I even used this in one of my Aleph-Bet stories. The story is called Life and Death. It begins early in the morning. A boy doesn't want to get out of bed. He just wants to keep sleeping. Then his mother calls him, "Come on! Hurry up! We're going to be late."
Late for what?
For his uncle's funeral.
The whole story unfolds from there. At one point the wife keeps urging her husband, "Can't you please drive faster? We're already late!" She says it again. And again. He doesn't even blink. He simply answers, "I'd rather get there alive."
I think that sentence says something we forget all the time. We're so occupied with arriving somewhere that we forget these are matters of life and death.
After all, to the cemetery you can also arrive... as one of the dead.
My dad has his own driving stories. He only started driving when he was already older. I honestly don't even remember how old he was. Sixty? Closer to seventy? Something like that. I only remember that he took a big marker, wrote in huge letters, "Sorry. I am a new driver," and put the sign in the back window of his car. That was my dad.
Sometimes I borrowed his car. The funny thing was that I would completely forget the sign was still there. I wasn't a new driver anymore. I already had more experience than he did. But if I'm honest, I was a rather selfish driver. If there was a chance to squeeze into a parking spot, I would. If I thought I could pass before somebody else, I probably would. Then I'd stop at the next traffic light, and somebody would roll down the window, point at the sign in the back of the car, and... well... let's just say they thought the sign explained everything.
The funny part was that the sign wasn't really describing my driving experience. It was exposing something much deeper. I wasn't a new driver. I just still had a lot to learn.
My dad has another driving story that our family still remembers. He was driving on a fast road when, all of a sudden, he noticed a wheel rolling across the field beside him. For a second he simply watched it. Then it hit him.
It was his wheel.
His own wheel.
Somehow the car kept going long enough for him to bring it safely to a stop. Even now, when I think about it, I almost see the Lord saying, "You'll have your fourth wheel until you're safely off the road."
We can smile about that story today because everything ended well. But when I think about it, I'm not really laughing. I'm overwhelmed by the mercy of God. Sometimes we look at what we have and think, This is not enough. This is never going to make it. And then, somehow, the Lord is already there. He really is a very present help in trouble. His mercy reaches much farther than our strength, much farther than our calculations, and much farther than anything we thought was holding us together.
Another time my husband and I were driving back through the south of France after a conference. We decided not to take the tunnel. We wanted to go through the mountains because the scenery was just too beautiful. And that was exactly our problem. We kept stopping. "Oh, look at this!" Then another turn, another breathtaking view, and again, "No, we have to stop here too." We were completely absorbed in the landscape until somewhere near the top of the mountain we finally looked at the fuel gauge. Almost empty. No cash. Only a card. It was already getting dark, and we were in the middle of nowhere.
We didn't say much after that. My husband simply put the car in neutral and let it roll down the winding mountain road. I have no idea what was going through his mind. Mine, however, became another engine. I was praying, but my thoughts were racing much faster than the car. Lord... what are we going to do? What if there isn't a gas station? What if they don't take cards? Are we going to spend the whole night sleeping in the car? I kept praying, but at the same time I was already trying to solve the problem myself, making plans, imagining different scenarios, looking for an answer before the answer had even come.
The road kept descending, and we just kept rolling. Then it became almost flat. The car was still moving, but slower now... and slower... and slower. I honestly thought, This is it. In another minute we'll stop. And then, just before the car finally gave up, we saw a gas station.
I don't think I've ever been so relieved to see one.
We filled the tank with the card. Then, almost as an afterthought, we looked at the name of the little village.
Dieulefit. From french, it literally means: "God did it."
We just looked at each other. Of course. God did it.
All the tension disappeared at once. We stood there thanking the Lord. He had met us exactly where we were. Not after we had figured everything out. Not after we had become heroes of faith. Right there, in the middle of our little faith, our overworked minds, our empty tank, and our unanswered questions. His grace had already arrived before we did.
GPS taught me something too. One day I entered the wrong town. The street name was right. The town wasn't. I arrived exactly on time, and I remember feeling so content with myself. Wow... I actually made it on time. That doesn't happen to me very often, so I was quietly celebrating my little victory. I got out of the car, opened the trunk, picked up everything I had prepared, and started walking with that feeling, Okay, I'm here.
Only then did I realize.
Perfect timing.
Wrong destination.
GPS had faithfully taken me exactly where I had told it to go.
One of the closest calls I ever had was in Brookline, near Boston. The traffic there is so complicated. There are tram tracks, several lanes, pedestrians crossing, cars coming from different directions, and I was completely focused on one thing: Where is this address? I kept looking for the street number, thinking, Why is this so complicated? It should be somewhere here... Maybe it's the next building... Maybe I already passed it...
I did notice the cars. I remember seeing them so close to me, and something felt strange. But my mind was still occupied with finding the address. I simply assumed the road continued the way I thought it did. It never even occurred to me that the traffic pattern had changed.
Then I finally looked up.
Not at the address.
At the road.
And suddenly I realized I was driving the wrong way on a one-way street.
I still remember that feeling. It wasn't that I had decided to do something dangerous. I wasn't trying to break the rules. I was simply looking somewhere else. And for those few moments, that was enough.
When I look back now, I almost smile. I never decided, I'm going to use roads and cars to explain the Gospel. It wasn't like that at all. These things just kept happening, and every once in a while I would stop and think, Lord... You were speaking even there.
Maybe that's why I can't drive anymore without noticing things. A road sign is no longer just a road sign. A warning is no longer just a warning. Somewhere along the way I stopped seeing God's commandments as somebody trying to limit my freedom. I started seeing them as Somebody who already knows the road ahead because He has walked it before me.
And maybe that's all Freedom Dynamics really is.
Just learning to recognize that every response matters.
Learning His Ways
Road Collection
Freedom Dynamics
A devotional companion exploring the language of the road
Road signs, vehicle maintenance, traffic laws, and everyday driving become a language for reading life through Scripture. Each reflection opens one familiar picture until it reveals a practical response of faith.
Status: in preparation.
Victory in Song
Songs Lyrics and short Devotionals
A collection of original songs written for ordinary days. These songs are meant to be sung in the middle of real life, until truth becomes the strength, courage, and joy that carries you forward. Lyrics with short devotional reflections.
Status: in preparation.
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I believe You Lord
A deck of Scripture response cards.
Each card pairs a biblical promise with a personal response of faith, helping God's Word become your own confession, intention, and prayer. They can be used for personal meditation, small groups, or simple Scripture-response activities.
Status: in preparation.
Road Safety Workshops
Learning to recognize God's invitations, warnings, and directions hidden in the ordinary signs of everyday life.
Exploring the language of roads, vehicles, maintenance, and traffic as practical pictures of the believer's walk with Christ.
Every road sign has been pointing to something deeper all along
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Every sign invites a response.
Learn to recognize God's ways and respond faithfully.
How we learn
Freedom Dynamics
ROAD
If you have another way this series could serve your church, fellowship, school, or community, I'd be glad to explore it together.
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Explore one road theme through Scripture, practical examples, discussion, and real-life situations, discovering how the road becomes a language of spiritual discernment.
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Invite a Freedom Dynamics workshop to your church, fellowship, homeschool, retreat, conference, or community event.
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Host the complete Freedom Dynamics seminar or series, exploring the road one step at a time—from road signs and intersections to vehicle maintenance, responsibility, and the journey itself.
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Use the Freedom Dynamics devotionals and companion materials for personal reflection, small groups, family discussions, or ongoing discipleship. (Some resources coming soon.)