Parable Road #15 (Choices)

“Wow! That was close!”

Jason winces as a crimson-colored van races past us. The van swerves and for a moment, it appears about to lose control, then it charges off toward the setting sun.

“What’s their hurry?” I ask as I peer through the dirty windshield.

“I don’t know.” Jason laughs as he shifts down. “They’re in a hurry to meet the undertaker I guess.”

“Yeah, well, they’ll get their wish if they keep that up,” I say.

“It’s sure hard to figure out what’s going on in people’s minds sometimes.”

“Probably not much in their case.”

Jason laughs as he turns the rig onto the familiar cracked highway. “You’re probably right.”

“Well, we’re almost home. So, we won’t have to worry about that sort for a few days at least.”

“We can hope, anyway.”

“What else can we do?”

Jason smiles. “So, you believe in fate?”

“Fate?”

“Yeah, you know. Fate. The idea that we can’t really choose what happens to us. We just have to go along with what has been decided for us beforehand.”

“Oh, Calvinism.”

Jason’s brow wrinkles in confusion. “Calvinism?”

A laugh bubbles out from between my chapped lips. “That’s something us Christians like to argue about.”

“Arguing? I’m surprised.” Jason smirks. “I thought you Christians were all supposed to live in peace with each other.”

“We’re supposed to…but, we don’t always do what we’re supposed to.”

“So, you’re saying you don’t believe in fate?”

I shake my head. “No, I think that people have free will. Every day we have a choice to make, we can do good or bad.”

“And other people suffer the consequences for it.”

“Yes, I suppose they do.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?”

“If people do something stupid they’re the ones who should be punished for it, not someone else.”

“But if people didn’t have any choice in what they do, would it be just and right for them to be punished at all?”

“Hmm. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Then, if people are supposed to be judged and punished, what standard are we going to use to judge and punish them?”

Jason laughs. “Now you’re getting religious on me again.”

“Maybe so, but it’s a valid question. Isn’t it?”

“I’ll have to think about that. I’m just a humble truck driver, my brain can’t handle all this kind of talk.”

A motorcycle buzzes past.

I examine the blue bike for a moment. It looks like I should recognize it but I don’t. I shake my head, trying to clear it. It’s been a long trip and I’m feeling weary. “Anyway, do you have plans for your time off?”

“Oh, I don’t know. There’s a lot to do. You planning anything?”

“Oh, I have to get some hay in. The winter will be there before you know it and the cattle like to eat.”

“Yeah, I imagine. Hey, look…”

“What?”

“That van that passed us pulled to the side of the road and now…”

“Where?”

“Up there! See them, they’re pulling out onto the highway!”

“Yeah, I see them.” I grip the dashboard as I peer through the bug-stained windshield. “Hopefully whoever is on the motorcycle is paying attention…”

“Hopefully, hey…they’re pulling out into traffic. Look!”

“Hey! He hit him!”

Jason lets out a string of profanity.

Before we know it, we have arrived at the accident scene.

A motorcycle lies on its side on the highway. Its driver is a few feet away, crumpled on the road. The van it hit has a big impact point on the driver’s side door.

Obviously, this is the result of some bad choices but we don’t have time to debate philosophy at the moment.

The choice we have to make is obvious.

The semi pulls to a halt and then Jason and I are running toward the crash site.

It looks like a rough scene but we’ll do what we can to help these people. What else can we do?

To be continued…