WHERE TO?

He drives a cab in New York City, crawling the streets of Gotham. Eddie is his name, and he got saved a couple of years ago. He was in bad shape back then, but God did the miraculous. Eddie had to do the rest if he was going to make it, and he can't take much of the credit. God was behind every step, and Eddie took them all, albeit blindly. Faith meant walking on water if he didn't want to die. This job helps a lot. Actually, it lets God help Eddie help others. Actually, it saved his life. He's not a superhero, but he is a Christian. Getting behind the wheel always pulls him back to these streets. Modern medicine says cab drivers have bigger brains, so I guess you could say Eddie's hopelessly wired to the City of Lights. His brain needed saving, too. Badly. He was hopelessly strung out and sick as a dog—in the head, that is. He had lost his mind. He's got joy now, and it's the only thing about him that's crazy.

Nowadays, Eddie keeps his eyes peeled for the same kind of people who need prayer the way he did, and not just a ride. He lets God lead. If he didn't, he'd probably be dead by now. Tall buildings reach like fingers high in the sky. Tall, skinny buildings so carefully crowded that on a sunless day, he thinks he's indoors. He's driving around in an office complex complete with traffic, sidewalks, and streetlights for crossing. He's the security guard keeping watch with a meter running and a bag of seeds to sow.

Tension gets to drivers even when they're safely stuck in traffic. The air conditioner's on and the music's playing. It's a resort on wheels, but drivers are still hollering, "I'm late!" over blaring horns. They're on their way to where they need to be, but they're not going anywhere. They sit in their cars, swearing and thinking things about other drivers that are better left unsaid, because the dead have rotating dashboards, too. The way Eddie sees it, New York is already The Centre of the Universe. Why get hot under the collar going around in circles a few times? If people are going to be late to their own funeral, they may as well have life in Christ. Eddie's chariot awaits. That's how he thinks of his cab. His job is his calling, and it's not to control traffic. He wants to bring those out in the storm back to safety.

Whether folks scramble around like rats or prefer a more casual pace, they all seem to flow together. The city slows time down while simultaneously speeding it up. The lights come on at night like someone flipped a switch, and the City puts on a show. Not everything closes up at the end of the day, but Eddie knows the impact of loneliness doesn't loosen its grip. It never did for him, but Jesus is right there, in case they want to turn away from the darkness. He's the one they're hailing for rescue. Eddie's the guy driving the getaway car and talking people down from the ledge.

A city that never sleeps doesn't hurry or need to slow down. Rush hour is every hour in Times Square. Even at 1 AM, it's still as busy or as relaxed as you please. Where else in the world does a Midnight Moment last for three minutes? The thing is, Christ is coming back, and it'll be a one-and-done: in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye. How many people can Eddie cram in his cab and take with him?

It might seem trivial that the neighbour's dog barks at all hours, but it's a bona fide trial. It calls for nothing short of trust. Eddie can pray for the dog's owner, that God'll make him a good one and that the barking will stop. He may feel like sinking low into frustration and despair, but he needs only to settle down in the land of loving his neighbour—until his neighbour (and his dog) get evicted. Trials have expiration dates, not immediate fixes.

Thanking God in the thick of the storm is why Eddie's trust is never wasted. And he steps out in faith all over again to believe the best about God with somebody who, this time, has murder on his mind. Yeah, he's walking on water, but he's already reached the other side of the lake. The work is in how many waves he has to lead the other guy over?

Folks ride the subway round-the-clock. His stomach tightens when people do hard drugs, steal, fix to hurt others real bad or get themselves killed for no reason. The city has an ugly side, but people take their chances just about anywhere when they've got to get to where they're going. The dead can grab hold of the faith Eddie's got and step out on a hope that won't ever get pulled out from under them. They can have more influence with God than the dude driving the Bentley.

Trials are as much for people without faith as for those with it, but there won't be anything to look back on once they get through them. Nothing, that is, to put into heaven's account for them. God's offer is for subway dwellers, jerks in traffic, and all those sick in the head. Would it be too risky to get a sign for Eddie's cab that said as much? This gig isn't just to pay the rent.

They find themselves in the back of Eddie's cab, just conscious enough to see their ugliness in the presence of God. That's no free ride. It's church at its best. Eddie wishes for a sign to light up on his roof that reads, "Occupied Taxi: Sinner Found."

He loves seeing God do the miraculous.

Opportunities are everywhere. The twists and turns speed racers might never see are the bends in the road Eddie slows down for. Being lost without Jesus isn't just ugly, it's hideous. He scrapes people up from off the street and uses his tips to cover their fares. God is looking to make Himself at home in their hearts, too. Eddie remembers their kind of mess and how God knew when he was ready to be rewired.

Eddie trusts his Owner. He may never rise to anything more than remarkable strength, but trust is like training. It challenges him, and he gets something in return. The spoils are meant for his passengers. The joy is his to keep.