I would take in every old car that wandered like a stray cat to my back door. I plead with Marilyn, “Pleezze let me keep it… I will love it, and feed it, and promise to always take care of it!” Fortunately, Marilyn is way too savvy to fall for that line, and so I’m currently limited to one “specialty car” at a time.
I really can’t complain. I’ve owned a wide variety of cars during our forty-plus years of marriage. I’ve built hot rods, drag raced muscle cars and shown classic cars at national events. For twenty years I was fortunate to convert my love of cars into a business. With a lot of hard work and a little skill, I enjoyed a good reputation as a street rod and classic car upholsterer—meeting wonderful people along the way while working on some of the finest cars in the country.
During those years, I always owned at least one pickup truck. But when the Lord graciously reminded me that He hadn’t called me to be an upholsterer but to be a minister, I traded in my car tools for church tools (I’ll tell you more about that another time). I love my life as a pastor and I love the people to whom I’m privileged to minister. But when I made the transition, I worried that I’d miss the cars. Strangely enough, what I miss most my pickup truck.
Today, Marilyn drives a newish, midsize SUV and I drive an oldish sports sedan with 200,000 miles under its belted tires. Here’s the problem: I still find myself constantly trying to haul stuff that just won’t fit into either of our vehicles. I have a little utility trailer that I press into service behind the SUV. It has tiny wheels that cause it to dart back and forth behind the car, its little tires spinning like crazy to keep up. Reminds me how as a kid, I’d tie my Radio Flyer wagon to the back fender of my Schwinn and take off down the road lickety split. The wagon (like the utility trailer) clamored in protest, rattling back and forth, dodging wildly in all directions, threatening to wreck me.
Marilyn agrees that we’re ready for another pickup truck. But choosing a pickup is a very delicate decision. Do I want it to look good, or do I want it to work well?
Years ago I had an ol’ pickup that was so rusted you could throw a rock through the bed without touching the shredded sheet metal! The great thing about that truck was that I could throw anything in it (or at it) and never worry about hurting it. I could loan it to my neighbor and rest easy, knowing there’s no way he could damage it any worse than it already was. I loved that truck.
But I’ve also had pretty trucks…and I have to admit…I loved them, too. I liked how they made me feel about myself. But I was always a little nervous about actually pressing it into service. After all, you wouldn’t ask your prom date to help change a tire… you know what I’m sayin’?
I’m still wrestling with this decision; I’ll let you know how it works itself out. If I had to choose today, I’d probably opt for usefulness over good looks.
This dilemma is similar to a struggle I have spiritually. I find it easier to look good spiritually than to actually live out my spirituality through sacrificial service and kind acts toward others. Saint James in the Bible boldly addresses this same problem.
“I can already hear one of you agreeing by saying, “Sounds good. You take care of the faith department, I’ll handle the works department.” Not so fast. You can no more show me your works apart from your faith than I can show you my faith apart from my works. Faith and works, works and faith, fit together hand in glove.” James 2:18
I guess I need to find a pickup truck that, like my faith, not only looks good but is able to do the work as well.