The first time I saw his car, it took several moments to read through all the bumper stickers. They were all pro-life and upbeat. Some in English, some in Spanish, all of them extolling the virtue of bringing life into the world and sheltering the lives already here.
A great witness.
But it occurred to me, briefly, that our enemy probably didn’t much care for his witness.
A few months later, I noticed him at Mass with a band-aid on his head. The rumor mill churned out the story that he had been bashed by a hit-and-run driver, his car totaled after crashing nearly head-on into the concrete median.
I wasn’t too surprised. A blatant pro-life stance can be dangerous to your safety!
Today at CCD, he pulled me aside.
“Pray for me tomorrow, please, it’s my court date.” “Court date?” “Yeah, for the accident.” “I thought it was a hit-and-run!” “It was, but the police officer didn’t think so, and he’s charging me with reckless driving.” “Someone’s not happy about all your pro-life bumper stickers,” I quipped.
He replied with a wry grin. We turned to look at the statue of Our Lady, a serpent beneath her foot. He stomped and made a grinding motion with his heel. We laughed.
But as I sat down in front of the Blessed Sacrament, a picture rose in front of my closed eyes.
Our enemy, in heaven before God, violently demanding permission, day and night to hurt, kill, or maim us. To make us suffer disease, temptation, disability. His hatred for those made in God’s image and likeness could not be assuaged.
God, on his throne, denied request after request. No, you may not kill him.
No, you may not strike him with AIDS. No, you may not cause a tornado to rip through his house. No, you may not tempt him to murder. No. No. No.
A thousand nos every hour, and more because of his pro-life stance. His guardian angel holding a bubble of protection around him like Violet from The Incredibles, holding up a force field to protect her family.
And then one small yes. Yes, you may allow his car to be struck. No, you may not kill or maim him. Yes, he may have a small injury. No, it may not affect him permanently. Yes, you may cause legal trouble and force him to seek the services of a lawyer.
The triumphant sneer of the enemy, and the instant enactment of the accident.
Then, for a moment, the picture behind my eyes changed, and it was me and my children with a similar force field held in place by vigilant angels, enacting the will of God. Fending off everything evil unauthorized by Our Lord. The requests for injury were too numerous to count and yet each day I drove thoughtlessly, somewhat carelessly, through the maze of potential injury. Each day with its errands and events, each day ceaselessly protected from the myriad, malevolent petitions of our enemy.
“Thank you!” I exhaled, opening my eyes. “Dear God! You save us from so much!” For a moment, I was scared to move. Scared to drive. Scared to live. Every second held a trap, the possibility for harm from the vast and endless hatred of a violent foe. It’s a miracle we’ve lived this long!
And then I remembered.
Childlike faith. Like my children rely on me to take care of them, I can rely on God to take care of me. He always has. Occasionally, he allows one small evil, one grain in a rice paddy of potential evils, to occur. A minuscule fraction of the constant requests for our demise.
And then, God takes the evil and works it all together for our good. A good we can’t even see yet.
The court exonerated my friend. And, since he offered up the pain and inconvenience for the soul of the driver, we have every reason to hope God will use such efficacious prayers to bring that soul to Heaven.
He is a good God.
