Lame-brained

 I really didn't mean to break the speed limit on my way to work. Honest. 

Here's how I think it happened: The commute from our house to my office is about 18 miles. Part of it is controlled by traffic lights. For most of the rest of the trip, my potential speed is curbed by congestion. But not on Loop 12, a straight-line connection between Interstate 35 and Interstate 30 through the far eastern edge of Irving.

During the early years when I worked for the Baptist Standard, I chafed over my long commute, which at the time was about 28 miles. I enjoyed my job, but I just detested the time I spent in the car every morning and afternoon. Most of the trip, I traveled in the same direction as everyone else who lived in the northern suburbs and worked in Dallas. But on Loop 12, I caught a break, since most of the downtown-bound traffic stayed on I-35, and the prevailing Loop 12 traffic consisted of folks from the southern suburbs who work on the northside, heading in the opposite direction. 

So, for the first 11 years, I confess, I regularly broke the speed limit to make up for the agonizingly slow pace of the rest of my commute.

Slowing down …

But then several things happened: We moved from Lewisville to Coppell, and I cut my driving distance by 10 miles. I started downloading podcasts of favorite radio programs, which made my drive much more enjoyable. And I "grew up" and decided to relax and quit rushing. (I guess I could say I developed a conscience and felt more compelled to strictly obey the speed limit, but that would be a lie.)

So, most mornings now, I stay in the right two lanes of the four-lane expressway, content for the speed demons to zip by. 

… but not enough

But on the way to work the other morning, I suddenly realized I was driving in the left—around here known as "fast"—lane. And I have no memory of how I got over there. Probably it had something to do with 18-wheelers and changing lanes to avoid trailing them or getting boxed in by them. 

At any rate, I didn't consciously intend to drift left, but there I was.

About that time, I realized I was "going with the flow" of the fast-lane traffic. And within a couple of seconds, I topped a little rise and saw the police officer sitting on his motorcycle, pointing his radar at me.

So, I wasn't surprised when he turned on his red-and-blue lights as I passed, and I immediately made my way to the right shoulder.

The stereotype of a traffic cop is gruff and surly, but this officer was as nice as an icecream-truck driver. Maybe he's just a friendly guy. And maybe it was because I already had my driver's license out and a "guilty as charged" look on my face when he walked up.

"How bad was it?" I asked.

"Seventy-one," he said. Since I've driven that road more than 3,000 times, I know the limit is 60.

"Oooh. Sorry," I said. He kind of smiled and took my license and insurance card back to his cycle.

When he walked back to my car, he handed me a long piece of paper. (Who knew traffic tickets have so much information?) He showed me the number to call to arrange for paying my fine.

"OK, just be careful," he told me as he walked away.

How it happened

If anyone could say they had a pleasant experience receiving a ticket, that would be me. But as I drove away, I wondered how that happened.

And then I knew exactly: First, I just wasn't thinking about what I was doing. Instead of monitoring my speed and my position, I got caught up in the podcast program streaming through my speakers. Second, I lapsed into bad habits. All those years of willfully breaking the speed limit came back to haunt me, because I subconsciously lapsed into that same old pattern as soon as I pulled into the fast lane.

Lesson learned

My driving failure reminded me of spiritual failures—both my own and others' I've observed through the years. When we form and cultivate bad habits, they become ingrained, and even when we think we have broken them, they remain hard-wired into our psyches, ready to pop up at unexpected moments. And those moments occur when we fail to think about what we're doing, when we don't remain vigilant.

From my experience, spiritual vigilance lapses when I fail to practice disciplines—particularly reading Scriptures and other discipling/inspirational writings, praying, and meditating on God's plan for my life that day.

The speeding ticket will take a bite out of my bank account. But it will make me a better, more alert driver. And I pray the broader lesson I learned from it also will make me a better, more alert Christ-follower.