The Check Engine Light That's Been On for Six Days
The Check Engine Light That's Been On for Six Days
RedeemedExistence daily devotional, October 13, 2026
The orange check engine light came on six days ago, somewhere between the school drop off and the highway on ramp, and I have driven past the shop on my street every single morning since without pulling in. The truck does not knock. It does not smell like anything burning. It starts every time I turn the key, runs smooth at seventy, gets me where I am going. The only thing wrong with it, as far as I can tell from the driver's seat, is that small orange light sitting there on the dash, and some mornings I think I would almost rather it start sputtering so I would have an excuse to finally deal with it. Instead it just sits there, patient and silent, reminding me every time I start the engine that something underneath the hood needs attention I keep deciding not to give it.
I am four years sober, and I used to think anxiety would always look like the night before a court date, sweat on my palms, heart going too fast to count. What that stubborn little light has taught me this week is that anxiety usually does not arrive that loud anymore. It idles. It sits on the dash of an ordinary Tuesday and hums along quietly underneath an otherwise fine day, not loud enough to stop me from getting to work, just loud enough that I notice my shoulders are up near my ears by two in the afternoon and I could not tell you exactly why.
Scripture does not treat that quiet hum as nothing. Solomon names it with more weight than I usually give it. "Anxiety in the heart of man causes depression, but a good word makes it glad" (Proverbs 12:25, NKJV). He calls it a cause, a thing with real downstream effects on a real heart, not a mood a disciplined man should simply shrug off by Thursday. David does not pretend his own anxieties came in some small, manageable number either. "In the multitude of my anxieties within me, Your comforts delight my soul" (Psalm 94:19, NKJV). Multitude. Not one tidy worry he could name and solve before bed, but a whole crowd of them pressing in at once, the way mine do when I let the truck stand in for every other thing I have been avoiding, the unanswered phone call to my sister, the overdue thank you note, the apology I keep rehearsing instead of giving.
Here is where my own reasoning has never once gotten that light turned off for good. I can tell myself accurately that it is probably just a sensor, that these things are usually cheaper than the dread makes them feel, that putting it off another week will not actually make the engine seize in the driveway. Every sentence is likely true, and none of them has quieted the hum, because the hum was never really about the truck. It was about how easily I let one small unresolved thing stand in for every other thing I have not brought into the light. Jesus does not scold His listeners for having a body that worries. He simply redirects where the worry is allowed to live. "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble" (Matthew 6:34, NKJV). Peter hands the actual mechanism for getting it out of my own hands and into Someone else's. "Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you" (1 Peter 5:7, NKJV). Casting, an action, not a feeling I have to manufacture first.
This is exactly what abiding in the Spirit gives that four years of sobriety and plenty of good intentions never could. Isaiah does not promise peace to the man who finally solves every open item on his list. He promises it to the man whose mind is simply fixed somewhere else. "You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You" (Isaiah 26:3, NKJV). My mind was never going to stay there by my own discipline alone. Paul tells the Romans what happens on the mornings I cannot even form the right prayer about the light on my dash or the call I have not made. "Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered" (Romans 8:26, NKJV). He does not wait for me to find the right words before He starts carrying the weight of them. And Jesus does not leave the kind of peace He offers vague or conditional on my circumstances lining up first. "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid" (John 14:27, NKJV).
I called the shop tonight and made an appointment for Thursday morning, which is a small and almost embarrassing thing to call an act of faith, but it was mine to take and I finally took it. The light is still on as I write this. I am learning that the light being on and the peace being present are not opposites the way I used to think they were. God is alive tonight, and He already knows exactly which quiet, patient warning light has been humming on your own dashboard all week, the one you keep driving past instead of pulling in to face. He has a plan for you that does not depend on you solving it first, and He has told you Himself what He is offering instead of the dread. "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid" (John 14:27, NKJV). He will never leave you to sit with that hum alone.
Scriptures used (NKJV): Proverbs 12:25; Psalm 94:19; Matthew 6:34; 1 Peter 5:7; Isaiah 26:3; Romans 8:26; John 14:27.
RedeemedExistence daily devotional, October 13, 2026
The orange check engine light came on six days ago, somewhere between the school drop off and the highway on ramp, and I have driven past the shop on my street every single morning since without pulling in. The truck does not knock. It does not smell like anything burning. It starts every time I turn the key, runs smooth at seventy, gets me where I am going. The only thing wrong with it, as far as I can tell from the driver's seat, is that small orange light sitting there on the dash, and some mornings I think I would almost rather it start sputtering so I would have an excuse to finally deal with it. Instead it just sits there, patient and silent, reminding me every time I start the engine that something underneath the hood needs attention I keep deciding not to give it.
I am four years sober, and I used to think anxiety would always look like the night before a court date, sweat on my palms, heart going too fast to count. What that stubborn little light has taught me this week is that anxiety usually does not arrive that loud anymore. It idles. It sits on the dash of an ordinary Tuesday and hums along quietly underneath an otherwise fine day, not loud enough to stop me from getting to work, just loud enough that I notice my shoulders are up near my ears by two in the afternoon and I could not tell you exactly why.
Scripture does not treat that quiet hum as nothing. Solomon names it with more weight than I usually give it. "Anxiety in the heart of man causes depression, but a good word makes it glad" (Proverbs 12:25, NKJV). He calls it a cause, a thing with real downstream effects on a real heart, not a mood a disciplined man should simply shrug off by Thursday. David does not pretend his own anxieties came in some small, manageable number either. "In the multitude of my anxieties within me, Your comforts delight my soul" (Psalm 94:19, NKJV). Multitude. Not one tidy worry he could name and solve before bed, but a whole crowd of them pressing in at once, the way mine do when I let the truck stand in for every other thing I have been avoiding, the unanswered phone call to my sister, the overdue thank you note, the apology I keep rehearsing instead of giving.
Here is where my own reasoning has never once gotten that light turned off for good. I can tell myself accurately that it is probably just a sensor, that these things are usually cheaper than the dread makes them feel, that putting it off another week will not actually make the engine seize in the driveway. Every sentence is likely true, and none of them has quieted the hum, because the hum was never really about the truck. It was about how easily I let one small unresolved thing stand in for every other thing I have not brought into the light. Jesus does not scold His listeners for having a body that worries. He simply redirects where the worry is allowed to live. "Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about its own things. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble" (Matthew 6:34, NKJV). Peter hands the actual mechanism for getting it out of my own hands and into Someone else's. "Casting all your care upon Him, for He cares for you" (1 Peter 5:7, NKJV). Casting, an action, not a feeling I have to manufacture first.
This is exactly what abiding in the Spirit gives that four years of sobriety and plenty of good intentions never could. Isaiah does not promise peace to the man who finally solves every open item on his list. He promises it to the man whose mind is simply fixed somewhere else. "You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You" (Isaiah 26:3, NKJV). My mind was never going to stay there by my own discipline alone. Paul tells the Romans what happens on the mornings I cannot even form the right prayer about the light on my dash or the call I have not made. "Likewise the Spirit also helps in our weaknesses. For we do not know what we should pray for as we ought, but the Spirit Himself makes intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered" (Romans 8:26, NKJV). He does not wait for me to find the right words before He starts carrying the weight of them. And Jesus does not leave the kind of peace He offers vague or conditional on my circumstances lining up first. "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid" (John 14:27, NKJV).
I called the shop tonight and made an appointment for Thursday morning, which is a small and almost embarrassing thing to call an act of faith, but it was mine to take and I finally took it. The light is still on as I write this. I am learning that the light being on and the peace being present are not opposites the way I used to think they were. God is alive tonight, and He already knows exactly which quiet, patient warning light has been humming on your own dashboard all week, the one you keep driving past instead of pulling in to face. He has a plan for you that does not depend on you solving it first, and He has told you Himself what He is offering instead of the dread. "Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid" (John 14:27, NKJV). He will never leave you to sit with that hum alone.
Scriptures used (NKJV): Proverbs 12:25; Psalm 94:19; Matthew 6:34; 1 Peter 5:7; Isaiah 26:3; Romans 8:26; John 14:27.
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