Dort.

My grandmother was a terrible driver. In my memory she didn't drive until after her husband had passed away. It seems that she sold the clunky "free-candy" van that my grandfather preferred and traded up for a rice-burner of some variety. There was a lot of shame in what seemed to me a no-brainer. Grandma wore a foam neck-brace for a while after an accident of some kind, but I think that after every drive to the corner store she could have used her neck brace.

And, yes, she would drive to the corner store. She would come back later if there wasn't a convenient parking space, too. Once, after she had moved to live closer to our family, I was riding with grandma in her car. We pulled into the first intersection off of her street and were almost hit by an oncoming truck. Grandma quickly whipped up her stubby little arm and threw out her stubby, middle finger.

"Grandma! How could you flip him off?"
"I didn't flip nobody off. I wouldn't do nothing like that."
" Grandma! I saw you flip him off!"
"Well, he deserved it."

Grandma made a much better backseat driver. I laughed riotously through Flannery O'Connor's "A Good Man is Hard to Find." I had been the child strapped into the back seat with that old woman. I knew her well. Grandma was the best backseat driver in the world.

If anyone even tapped the breaks with a little too much gusto her goiter would start acting up or some such nonsense. It was always something. The arm that would fly twelve feet up into the air during a rendition of the "chicken dance" at a wedding or hoe-down couldn't muster the altitude or strength to reach for the seatbelt.

This was always the first argument. It was never the last.

As a child it was just an assumed fact that a car was either going too fast or too slow. Prodded by my grandmother's nagging I assumed that the speed limit was a fixed number. If the sign read 55, cars were expected to drive at exactly 55 MPH - the wand couldn't be at 54 and certainly not at 56. I still drive with this secret knowledge.

With Dort as the backseat driver we never arrived anywhere too early or too late. We never veered off course. We never stopped to see side attractions that would prolong our trip for another second.

Theology is a great backseat driver. It keeps us on track and in a timely manner. But, in all honesty, it's probably a terrible driver. Theology should always take a back seat to the practice of loving people. If your theology isn't big enough to include someone or some group in those you count as beloved - you have probably let theology sit in the driver's seat for far too long.

Because theology finds it far too easy to flip people off. When we focus on the intellectual pursuits of our faith it is much too easy to forget about people. Suddenly figuring out the exact number of angels that can dance on the head of a pin becomes more important than having people over for dinner and a movie.

But we can't dispense of theology. We need it's ever-present voice nagging from the backseat. We need our love to be tempered with truth and our actions to speak to a greater understanding.

It's important that theology is along for the ride, but it's equally important that it's not steering the car.