Ghost Driver 4

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The Ghost Driver carriage returned much sooner than anyone expected.

Maddened drivers raged upon each other and bullied for the reins, but each was powerless to take charge. Stubbornly the wagon made its haltering way toward a modest cottage nestled in a valley. A determined face pushed it on with the force of her own insistence.

As the horses stamped their uncomfortable presence a woman stepped from the carriage and stood, looking at the humble home. A woman stepped from the threshold and reached out her arms toward the visitor.

Tears streamed down both faces, but both were frozen in place. The younger woman turned her face away, struggling with internal torments of unbearable potency.

“You have come.” The older woman spoke, to break the spell of their meeting.

“She is dead.” The young woman measured her tears, as remorse, pain and anger fought for ascendancy within her. “She was thrown from the carriage in a wild moment and dashed to pieces under the hooves of these dreadful horses.”

The woman moved quickly from the cottage and embraced the stiffened body of the beautiful young visitor. “I’m so sorry”, she soothed.

“I am not”, the younger replied. “I hated her.”

“But she is your Mother!” The older woman urged.

“She was never a mother to me.” The words were bitter and pained. “She lived only for herself and did not care what I suffered under her wild will. She was never a mother to me. Never!” There were no tears with this, but cold hardness of heart.

“Well, now you are free.”

“No. I am not free. These wild urges surge in me more powerfully than ever. They have lost their slave and are determined to own me more than they ever owned her.”

“But that’s alright. We can help you get freedom.” The tone was filled with promise.

The visitor stood stiff, struggling with surging internal currents. “I do not want to forgive her. Hating her makes me feel better. And I don’t want to give up my will. I am afraid of being mocked as a servant to others. I like being admired and envied. Part of me wants to taunt others and prove that I am right. If I give up all this, I will face unbearable shame.”

The woman gently led the stunned guest toward the cottage, speaking tenderly as she did. “But you desperately want to be loved, don’t you.”

At this the visitor wept freely. She did desperately want to be loved and valued and cherished and be appreciated for more than her seductive beauty or painted eyes. She wanted the freedom to be as plain as a country servant and yet to be loved none-the-less. Her life as a raging beauty had never brought her such treasures.

Moments later the guest dropped hot tears into the mug of tea in her trembling hands. The warmth of the country kitchen and the sounds of children singing as they were busy with their chores invoked senses which were as intoxicating as they were foreign to her. This reality affirmed a expectation deep within her that such things must exist.

“You can stay with us, if you like. My son will deal with the horses and the carriage. He has done it before, for others. We can guide you and help you cut all the cords that enslave you. You can be as free as a bird and as whole on the inside as you could ever imagine.”

The woman’s motherly care was welcome, but uncertainties stormed against the situation now before the young woman. Could she endure such a change of her whole existence?

Through the window she watched a young man approach the horses, whip in hand. He was cautious, but not afraid. He spoke to them and presented the large whip to their view. They pulled back from him, but he held them from rearing up as they were wont to do. After a long and painstaking process they were led to take steps under the man’s direction. When unseen hands lifted another whip and phantom voices raised a cry of protest, the man simply stared them down until they were silent.

Finally the carriage was drawn into a yard and the horses tethered there. This was not the end of the process, but just the beginning, but a good start had now been made.

The young woman slumped into a chair and wept freely. Hope stepped one pace closer in her chest.

Thus began a long and wonderful season that would lead to a young woman shining with double beauty. She would one day display the beauty of her natural features and the richer beauty of a yielded spirit.

But that day was not to come without many a struggle, within the woman’s heart and between her and those who loved her. They would be tested and drained by the process, but their compassion for her would bring them through.

When the young man entered the room and slipped his woollen cap from his head the young guest nodded to him. He looked upon her differently to the way other men did. And immediately she was stirred. Something inside her demanded that she have alluring power over such males and one of her first struggles began right there.

Romantics speculate at this point that the young man and young woman made a lovely couple in due time. But that is to be distracted. The story is not about romance, but about Freedom. Don’t be distracted by emotional excursions when far more important matters are afoot.

The “Happily Ever After” sentiment of the Fairy Story cheats us of life’s reality. Life is not achieved by a romantic ending to a story, but by godly wisdom applied on a daily basis to challenges which mature us and deepen our grip on God and His grip on us.

So, as you make your own journey from here keep an ear attuned to the cry of Ghost Drivers who have already gained a hold on you or who come along with the promise of gain, so they can drive you at their will. Refuse the “Cumalongnow” call of the tormentors and prepare yourself for the “Come up here” call of the Lord, taking you into His presence.

To read the earlier instalments in this important story of slavery and freedom click the following links:

Part One: http://chrisfieldblog.com/ministry/ghost-driver

Part Two: http://chrisfieldblog.com/ministry/ghost-driver-2

Part Three: http://chrisfieldblog.com/ministry/ghost-driver-3

Ghost Driver Allegory

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This allegory is an attempt to open up a subject for your consideration. Often matters of our heart and inner life are hard to describe. I like to create language, pictures and allegory that open up our understanding of internal processes and empower us to take some leadership in our own lives.

I trust that this allegorical effort does that for you.

This is Part One of a story to illustrate what can happen in people’s lives, when they come under the power of unseen forces that function as a driver in their life.

The Beautiful Girl

The young man noticed her at once. She was beautiful to his eyes, so he watched her from a distance. The coach stood still in the market and the lovely young lady hung out the window drinking in the sounds and senses of the bustling crowd.

As she stepped out onto the pavement the young man hurried to greet her. She smiled and he stammered to make meaningful conversation. Both were delighted by the meeting. She was just passing through and he hardly caught her name before the coach driver called his “Cumalongnow” cry and she stepped onto the running board.

As the coach began to move she swung herself into the coach and waved to him from the window. As he waved back he saw there was no driver steering the horses, yet the whip cracked and the carriage sped away. The boy ran after them, crying for the carriage to stop, but it passed out of sight, with the young lady waving still.

Second Meeting

Two full years passed before he saw her again. It was early morning and the village streets had hardly sprung to life. The coach was there again. He walked quickly to it and peered through the window. She was there, resting. He tapped and caught her attention. She quickly sprang out to meet him, smiling broadly. It was the same chemistry they had enjoyed on their first meeting.

They had barely gotten past a few pleasantries when the “Cumalongnow” made her step back into the carriage. The young man only had eyes for her sparkling smile, but something tugged at his attention. As the coach moved away he recalled the missing driver from their first meeting and glancing to the front of the coach he again saw that there was no-one holding the reins. He ran after the coach and shouted, “There’s no driver!” She simply smiled and waved back as the coach gained speed and moved away.

From then on he always kept an eye to the road, in case she should pass that way again. It was a full two years again before they met once more. He was riding a country track when he came upon the coach. The young lady was sitting in the pasture as the horses took their rest.

Explanation

His fascination for her was now cautioned by his questions. They stood silently for a time before he spoke.

“There is no driver”, he said simply. She nodded.

“How can that be?” She shrugged.

“So, what do you do?” He was totally lost for understanding.

She kept her eyes on the grass as she answered. “When he cries, I get aboard.” And that was all she said.

“But where is he taking you?”

She held her reply for an intolerable time, then said, “They take me where they will.”

“There is more than one?” He was incredulous. “Who are they?”

She turned away. When she looked back toward him she could see he was resolute upon an answer.

Naming the Drivers

“One is called Ambition. Another is Rage.” He kept his gaze fixed upon her.

“Then there is Jealousy. Greed takes his turn. There are others.”

He stood stock still, unsatisfied.

“They take the reins and drive me where they will and I must stay on board. One time I am driven by rage, then by ambition, other times by self-justification. At any moment one of them can jump to the lead and dash me off in a hasty venture.”

“Where do they come from?”

“My mother and father had them before me. As a child I was carried about in this coach until it became normal for me to live under such unexpected and inexplicable whim. The ghosts have owned me since childhood. I am their pawn.”

“Then come away with me. I will ride you far from this coach and these demented masters.”

“But it will not work. They have power over me. If you try to take me away I will be torn apart, since each of them owns a handful of my being.”

A Proposal

She reached out her hand to him. “But you can come with me in the coach. We can be happy together, no matter where these riders take us.”

It was a delightful prospect, but the young man was held in check by his fear of the unseen drivers.

“I do not want to spend my life in uncertainty of the whim of Ghost Drivers. While I am delighted to be with you, I do not want to become a slave to your ghosts.”

“But my parents made a life in such a coach as this.” Her eyes appealed to him.

“No”, he said finally. “I will not be slave to another man’s masters.”

With that a multiple of voices cried, “Cumalongnow!” and she dashed into the carriage as it began to move away. Rage was almost visible as he cracked the whip. Defiance shook his fist at the man left standing. Pride lifted his head and looked away. Spite spat in his direction.

A lovely face looked back toward him, without expression, except the resignation of a slave.

Do You Recognise This?

Do you know people whose lives are upset at times by uncontrolled urges, impulses, reactions, obsessions, distractions, ventures, exploits, rages, campaigns, and the like?

Most of us have come under the power of some “Ghost Driver” or other. We are vulnerable to distraction or disruption when something triggers some internal switch and sets us off on an almost uncontrollable direction.

I have seen people spoil a social event because of their obsessive need to justify themselves, gain respect, clear up a misunderstanding, prove their worth, and so on. Romantic moments in marriages have been turned into arguments. Business ventures have come unglued. Friendships, committees, fellowships and events have all been impacted at times by someone or other whose “Ghost Driver” called “Cumalongnow” and pulled them off on some unfortunate process.

What is Going on?

I guess you’d like to know what this Ghost Driver process is all about. So that’s what we’ll look at as the story continues. The story of this young man and woman does go a little further, so keep an eye out for the next instalment of the Ghost Driver Story.