There's a little sign on an entrance ramp to an inner beltway around Atlanta.

"Keep moving," it says.

It's a command. It's also good advice for life.

Once you've begun entry to this roadway, your slightest hesitation can become deadly for you and those around you. There's no going back. There's only the way forward. And you join the flow of traffic — people in cars and trucks hurtling around the city at speeds mostly illegal. To move is to survive.

On metro Los Angeles freeways, the unofficial rule is that if you blow a tire, you drive on that tire until it's a shredded mass, perhaps down to the rim, until you're off the roadway by the nearest exit ramp. But you don't stop. To do so could kill you.

God calls us to move, to keep moving. When we stop, when we refuse to be part of the rhythms of life, when we remove ourselves from the traffic, we begin to atrophy in our minds, our hearts, our souls.

I'm not speaking of the frantic running of those driven by demons of fear and obsession. That kind of movement leads to a burn-out that's become a proverb in our time. Cars and trucks (and people) that don't know rest, the respite of preventative maintenance, the necessary pauses in the journey, break down.

But given that needed rest, a car is made to be driven. When it sits in a garage or driveway unused, the fluids congeal, the hoses and engine belts and tires dry up, cracking and rotting. A smart driver who has to be away from their car for long periods will ask someone to drive it regularly — keeping it on the road, changing the fluids, rotating or replacing tires, hoses and belts as needed.

So it is with us.

We are called to interaction, to the traffic of person-to-person interaction. The God who is, Himself, the Word — communication of truth and life — calls us to the dialogue that leads souls to Him. It's not formulaic. Yes, we must know His Word, but more than that, we must live it in the journey.

We must move. But in that motion, we will be tested in our resolve to love.

Journey without God as our reason for hope can create in us a conquest mentality like the lonely ones around us. We are not called to join the pack so we can beat the competition. We're called to be part of the flow as an example of what love looks like in motion.

But it's not easy. The writer to the Hebrews (ch. 12) speaks of it in the context of self-discipline. Left to ourselves, we tend to journey badly — with a selfishness that belies the God we serve.

Nobody said it would be easy; we'll not feel entirely successful on any given day.

One day I got on the train with my bicycle and turned to the spot where the bikes must be stored to keep the aisle free. When no bikes are there, a seat folds down and the space can be used by passengers. The unofficial rule is that when bike riders board, those sitting on the fold-down seat are to get up and make room for the bikes.

Usually, no words are necessary. The bicycle appears, and the space vacates. People move. But the unofficial rules of the train are rules of propriety and grace. Some don't know the rules. Others ignore them, riding with the notion that the world will bend to their will. It drives their every interaction.

On this day as I boarded with my bike, a man was sitting on the fold-down seat. He saw me, but didn't move. I asked him if I could put my bike in the space, and he said — loudly — "I'm not getting up. I paid for this seat." I paused and felt the entire train car's eyes on me, there, standing in the aisle holding a bicycle as the train jostled into motion.

I stood in the aisle waiting for the next stop, hoping the train would empty and other seats would become available to free up the bicycle space. I wanted to melt into the floor. All I could do was try not to look as awkward as I felt. People in their seats tried not to stare. Just before entering the train, I'd sensed God's peace and a joy from Him as I'd headed home after a long day. Now that was all gone.

The life-to-life interaction of commuters is a study in human encounter. It can be a revelation of one's soul. People are people in astounding ways when packed together on a freeway, packed onto a bus, or crowded into a train car. Human kindness shines like a beacon in the jostling rush; darkness of human depravity stands out, too, like putrid refuse on the ground.

The man got up before the train had reached the next stop. The man seated next to him got up when the train came to a halt, and I was finally able to tie my bike up and clear the aisle. But I went home feeling beat up, discouraged, loathing the portion of my day that involves travel — three hours total every day.

The next day, as I sat in a nearly empty train car near the end of my daily journey, a woman told me she appreciated the way I'd handled the confrontation with the man on the fold-down seat. It hit me that hers were among the eyes that had been on me that day. I had felt derision in their gaze; at least one pair had been looking with compassion, even respect.

Had it been her bike, she said, she'd have let the whole train know what was going on. Maybe they'd have thrown her off the train, but she wouldn't have let him sit there.

She wondered at my restraint, my self-control.

She asked me what I did for a living.

I told her I taught at a Christian university and the word "Christian" seemed to flow over her like oil. She smiled and nodded.

Suddenly I sensed God speaking in that inner whisper that has the power of a shout. He had been there that day, in the aisle with me, as the man had angrily told me off. All those stares had been people well aware of the picture. And in my weakness, God had shown His strength.

It's only February. But look at us.

Yes, McCain is very close to clinching the Republican nomination due to sheer numbers,but in the Democratic side of things it's a long way to November.

And we're acting like it's September.

Just watch Bill Clinton — who remains the king of political spin. The Washington Post, in today's editions, points out that Sen. Clinton is now the underdog. Nice. Somebody in that household knows how to score upsets and win fence-sitters off their duffs.

What will Barack Obama do with this new momentum? A week or two from now, we'll know. And two weeks after that, we'll know again.

A CNN estimate late Tuesday showed Obama had a little less than 20 more delegates than Clinton as of that day. Call it a lead if you like, but this one's looking more and more like it's going to be decided by Superdelegates.

The good thing about it all is that the longer this neck-and-neck thing drags on, the more people are drawn to pick up newspapers, devour newsmagazines, and fire up web sites that guide them to what's really going on.

Americans — and, truth be told, some journalists — are people who cram their lives with so much day-to-day flurry that they just don't take time to find out what's happening in their country.

What gets their attention is repetitive noise from one source over time. They get up, look around, and find out what's making all that racket.

And democracy is the better for it.

Here's hoping we have the most attentive election season in a long time.

When journalists get it wrong, it hurts. And one of the reasons people get mad at journalists for doing their job badly is because the ripples just keep widening.

A guy came to our home tonight and told about what the newspapers said about him when he was indicted for white collar crime involving state funds. He couldn't defend himself well enough in court and ended up in a plea deal.

The news media treated him as guilty until proven innocent.

And he now lives with the reputation.

Journalists aren't omniscient.

But they can be fair.

May I learn that, and help my students ask more questions than they think need to.