Does this sound familiar?
You’re driving down the freeway with one eye on the car in front of you and one eye on the fuel gauge that says, “9 miles until empty … 8 miles until empty … 7 miles until empty …”
Running on fumes has never felt so real. Best case scenario, a Holiday station will magically appear on the other side of the underpass and you can get that tank filled. But if not, you are willing to give away your last piece of chocolate – or give up chocolate forever – if you can just reach the next off ramp so you can stall without creating a 3-mile traffic jam. If adrenaline and anxiety could fuel your car, you’d be in Canada in three minutes flat.
Oh, my. Yes. I’ve been there. The anxiety runs deep. My right hand is white knuckled to the steering wheel while my left hand taps my knee like a metronome set at 156. (That’s really fast.) “Come on, come on, come on…” are words coming out of my mouth like a record player stuck in a never-ending loop.
You’ve experienced this, right? We’re running on empty, and we know it.
I remember the days when dad would drive into Orville’s gas station in our little hometown. As dad cranked down his window, Orville would come out of his simple, white garage with a big grin, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. He’d nod, and dad would say, “Fill ‘er up!” Orville not only filled the tank with gas, but he checked the oil, washed the windshield, and gave my sisters and me each a stick of gum. Sigh. Those were the days.
It was so delightful to have someone else who would fill our tank. We just had to pull up. Before we ran out of gas.
Life is like that too.
Our tanks run low. We know what it’s like to run on fumes. Too busy. Too scheduled. Too worried. Too much. But we keep hoping that a miracle will fill our emptiness before it’s too late. And if not, that we can “get enough done” before our bodies break and we simply can’t go any further.
We keep telling ourselves that we can check one more responsibility off the to-do list or fix one more mess first. But we know we’re pushing it. We know that if we don’t pull up before the arrow points to E, we’re in trouble.
Scoot in here a bit and let me remind you – and me. Running on fumes is not good. And it’s not something that comes with an award. There’s no “She ran on fumes” badge of honor.
It’s time to step back, isn’t it? Slow down. Not be in charge of fixing all messes.
In her beautiful, hope-filled book, “Fully Alive: Learning to Flourish – Mind, Body & Spirit,” Susie Larson writes this: “Jesus wants us to flourish. He wants us whole. He wants us to live life bold and free, courageous and steadfast.”
But we can’t flourish on an empty tank. We can’t even just get by.
So, isn’t it delightful that we are able to get our tanks filled? If you will pause and look closely, you’ll see Orville’s showing up to help in simple places. From the pages of a good book. In the voices of the mourning doves. On the dew in the morning grass. From the throw blanket that wraps you for afternoon naps. From that lawn chair that is waiting to have the cobwebs brushed off.
In his 23rd Psalm, David reminds us that God himself gives us what we need:
“You have bedded me down in lush meadows, you find me quiet pools to drink from. True to your word, you let me catch my breath and send me in the right direction.”
My friend. You can stop trying to run on empty now.
God calls you to flourish. And he’s provided you with tank-fillers to take the journey with you.
Running on fumes is hard.
It’s OK to pause.
Breathe deeply. Rest.
Fill your tank and begin again.
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