Automatic Faith

I had one of those moments recently—the kind where technology and your nerves collide at a red light. My Jeep has that automatic shut-off feature. You come to a complete stop, and the engine turns itself off to save fuel. But truthfully, I try to remember to turn it off every time I drive. Let me explain. In theory, the auto shut-off is a great idea. In practice, it sends a small jolt of panic straight through my body.

That reaction probably has more to do with my past than the present. I’ve owned more than my fair share of clunkers—cars that also shut off at stoplights, but not because they were saving fuel. Those cars shut off because they had given up on life. So when I forget to turn off the auto shut-off and my Jeep goes quiet at a red light, my brain doesn’t think, “Ah yes, innovation.” It thinks, “Well, this is it.”

Recently when I was driving, I started noticing just how much of the driving experience has been automated. There are systems that keep you between the lines. Systems that adjust the volume as your speed changes. Cars that can parallel park themselves (which feels a little smug, if you ask me). And now we have self-driving cars—vehicles that don’t even require us to be all that involved anymore.

At one point I asked myself, “Self, do you think one day we’ll forget how to drive altogether?” It made me laugh—but it also made me think. Automation is convenient. It reduces stress. It fills in the gaps when we’re distracted or tired. But it also raises an interesting question: what happens when we stop practicing the basics because something else is doing the work for us?

That question doesn’t just apply to driving. Faith, like driving, was never meant to be entirely automatic. Scripture is full of reminders that following God is something we practice. We listen. We pay attention. We learn. We correct course. Proverbs says, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart… and he will make your paths straight” (Proverbs 3:5–6). Notice it doesn’t say God drives the car while we nap in the back seat. We’re still on the road. We’re still engaged.

And yet, there’s good news here too. Just like those safety features in our cars, God’s grace is always working in the background. Even when we stall. Even when we drift a little. Even when anxiety kicks in at a red light and we’re not sure if the engine will restart.

Maybe the goal isn’t to turn faith into autopilot—or to reject all the helpful tools along the way—but to stay awake, hands on the wheel, trusting that God is guiding us forward, even when the car goes quiet for a moment.

May God hold you,

Rev Chris Hester