Cnut Songs #17: If You Can Read This, You’re Too Close

I was brought up to believe in stopping distances. Every Sunday morning, my father would drive us all to church, reminding us of the importance of leaving a good gap between us and the car in front. He practiced what he preached: the Highway Code to Heaven. His commandments stuck with me when I myself learned to drive, and his voice speaks to me whenever I drive through the valley of the shadow of death: or the English motorway system, as it’s now more commonly known.

These days though, I feel so alone in my faith. It’s not easy to follow Jesus (or whoever’s driving the car in front) and do the right thing (stay at least 75 metres behind him, at 70mph) when everyone else is ignoring the commandments. To the non-believers, the stopping distance isn’t there to protect you, to keep you safe and warm and happy and alive. It’s there to pull over into, because you just can’t wait to get ahead, or because you’ve left it to the very last second to change lanes for your exit. 

Atheists tell me the only reason I cling to my old-fashioned beliefs is some foolish notion of eternal life. The modern mantra appears to be: “We’re all going to die anyway, if it happens right now on the M1, so be it. If not, glory be, I arrived at my destination 30 seconds sooner.” But I don’t want to live forever. I just want to get home in one piece, see my son again, and have my tea. 

They say, “belief is the death of reason”. Well, I’d rather have dead reason than a dead body, thanks, so I’ll keep on believing, even if no one else does.