I have always felt—well since being old enough to imagine my relationship to God—that He opened doors before me and shut them behind me, until He got me where He wanted me at a particular time. That is still my basic concept, but I recently came across a story that a my wise friend Sandra told me years ago. I grasp it as what seems true in these later years.

   She wrote me this story about her answer to, “How do you think of God.” She didn’t claim it to be an original story, but had to idea who first wrote it.

   “At first I saw God as my observer, my judge, keeping track of the things I did wrong, so as to know whether I merited Heaven or Hell when I die. He was out there sort of like the president. I recognized His picture when I saw it, but I didn’t really know Him.

   “But later on when I recognized my God, it seemed as though life was rather like a bike ride. But it was a tandem bike, and I noticed that God was in the back helping me pedal.

   “I don’t know when it was that He suggested we change places, but life has not been the same since, life with my God, that is. God makes life exciting!

   “When I had control, I knew the way. It was rather boring but predictable. It was the shortest distance between two points.

   “But when he took the lead, He knew delightful long cuts, up mountains, and through rocky places and at breakneck speeds; it was all I could do to hang on! Even though it looked like madness, He said, “Pedal!”

   “I worried and was anxious and asked, “Where are you taking me?” He laughed and didn’t answer, and I started to learn to trust.

   “I forgot my boring life and entered into the adventure. And when I’d say, “I’m scared.” He’d lean back and touch my hand.

   “He took me to people with gifts that I needed, gifts of healing, acceptance and joy. They gave me their gifts to take on my journey, OUR journey, God’s and mine.

   “And we were off again. He said, “Give the gifts away; they’re extra baggage, too much weight.” So I did, to the people we met, and I found that giving I received, and still our burden was light.

   “I did not trust Him at first, in control of my life. I thought He’d wreck it, but He knows bike secrets, knows how to make it bend to the sharp corners, jump to clear high rocks, fly to shorten scary passages.

   “And I am learning to shut up and pedal in the strangest places, and I’m beginning to enjoy the view and the cool breeze on my face with my delightful constant companion, my God.

   “And when I’m sure I just can’t do any more, He just smiles and says,”Pedal.”

   So, here I am, for many years (fifty-seven of them with my partner by my side) I’ve sung those good songs, some new and some old, heard all the uplifting sermons, listened to words of encouragement from fellow travelers, tried to pass encouraging words on to others, but finally, the most distinct word I hear is that one word from God, “Pedal.”

   I tell Him of my fears, thinking I can see hidden dangers that He might miss, tell Him my muscles are getting so tired and cramping, but He says, “Pedal.”

   Obviously, He sees the destination that my mind cannot comprehend. He knows there is still strength to travel and has a purpose for me.

   So, if when we meet, I seem a little preoccupied, not quite as alert as you think I should be, it may be because I’m trying to pedal. The sense of not being completely in control, is comforting. I’m still struggling with the trusting, but I’ve learned that God knows what He is doing, knows the destination. All I have to do is keep pedaling—and that requires prayer. Sometimes the pedals seem out of reach.