“The promise of ‘arrival’ and ‘rest’ is still there for God’s people. God himself is at rest. And at the end of the journey, we’ll surely rest with God. So let’s keep at it and eventually arrive at the place of rest, not drop out through some sort of disobedience.” – Hebrews 4:9-11 (MSG)

“God wants you to depend on him from moment to moment. The darkness and uncertainty of your life’s path must bring you to rest peacefully in Him. To trust Him even when you do not see where He is taking you is a true death. It’s a silent death that happens without fanfare.” – Fenelon “The Seeking Heart”

In my teen years, my family lived about four miles outside of town on this road that was actually called a “trail.” Like most trails, this road winded and meandered throughout the countryside, circumventing ponds, very old trees, and cornfields. Some of the turns were pretty aggressive. One nearly 90-degree turn in particular was deemed “Dead Man’s Curve” by…someone. Maybe a pioneer who took his wagon over the edge into the creek below after he turned around to yell at his kids in the back seat and didn’t see it coming.

Of all the roads to learn to operate a vehicle, turns out that this thoroughfare would be mine. Like most 15 year-old boys, I completed four (4) weeks of driver’s education over the summer. Thus, with a driver’s permit I knew exactly what to do behind the wheel and was henceforth unteachable to my parents, who’d take it from there ’til I was old enough to drive solo.

With dad in the passenger seat of our 1988 Ford Aerostar one late-summer day, I crept out of our driveway and turned right onto the empty road to do a practice drive into town. Hands at 10 and 2 in the family minivan, I remember thinking “45’s a good speed. Why would anyone ever need to drive faster than 45?” Which seems like great discernment for a teenage boy driver–until he’s two miles down the road and about 50 yards from “Dead Man’s Curve”–and still driving 45 mph.

Granted, I think Dad gave me too much credit on the front-end and assumed I’d know what to do right before entering into a corner-angle turn (the answer would be: “gently apply the brakes”). “You’re going to need to slow down here,” Dad asserted, sitting up and reaching for anything attached to the car. “Brake. ….BRAKE…”

I braked, but by this point, we’d already entered into Curve-land and, even going 30 mph, it was way too fast for this turn. In a top-heavy six-seater. Surely, the two left-side wheels lifted off the ground as I maneuvered the vehicle around the blind corner–even getting into the other lane–to land this thing on the other side.

But that’s not all.

Dad, in his shock, managed to direct me to pull the car over. So I did. But not in the traditional right-side-of-the-road way. Immediately after clearing the right-hand turn, I swiftly swung the ENTIRE minivan across the lane, over onto a perpendicular road on the LEFT side. Missing an oncoming vehicle by all of maybe three seconds.

“Pull the car over,” my Dad gasped. “Pull. The car. Over.” He didn’t look at me. He just put his hand over his heart. Properly hyperventilated (which, in hindsight, his dramatics here–though warranted–were actually pretty funny). Took an inventory of all his faculties. In a five-second event, his driver’s permit-carrying son almost killed them both, like, three different ways.

He drove home.

Before my dad allowed me to chauffeur him into town, I never feared the country road on which we lived. “Dead Man’s Curve” was a clever nickname for a sharp turn, but I wasn’t scared of it. I’d ridden on this road and all it’s angles hundreds of times. But until that day as a 15 year-old driver, I’d never experienced the dangers of that road, either.

After nearly turning my family’s minivan on its side, I took that turn way slower the 500 times I drove it afterward. It turns out, the curve never injured or killed me.  The fear kept me driving responsibly. And when I drove responsibly, I didn’t feel fear that I was going to tip my car over at all. Which is why I still enjoy driving. Which is why I can emotionally be at rest when I’m driving…responsibly.

And I think there’s a pretty decent tie-in between that moment and what the author of Hebrews writes about in Chapter 4. “Now we who believed enter that rest (v. 3).” It’s daily trusting in God’s provision and promises over us–but it’s not an automatic trust. It’s the result of daily diligence (continuing to drive, because I need to get things done) and the result of proper fear (continuing to drive responsibly, because I need to stay alive and keep others alive).

Unbelief will keep me from resting in God promises. And not entering that rest is going to have consequences. And that consequence will be borne out of my own folly and disobedience. My resolve is, the one (and only) thing to fear, then, is faithlessness. To fear unbelief, which will keep us from our promised rest.

Christ died to deliver us from slavish fear. He wants a fearless people. And fear only rises as faith starts to weaken. And it only rises long enough to get us back into what John Piper calls “the peaceful fearlessness of faith.” Ultimate rest. As long as we’re trusting His promises, we can be utterly fearless in the face of anything. Even death. Even God:

“Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.” – Hebrews 4:16