Marilyn has been particularly generous to me over the past six months. She agreed to tap into our savings allowing me to finish the restoration of my 1967 Sunbeam Alpine. I’m an old hand at auto restoration, but this is the first British-built sports car I’ve tackled. British cars have their own idiosyncrasies—some charm ya, some chafe ya. With previous restorations, I’ve discovered that right about the time the car is ready for the highway, I either love it or hate it. This time, I think I’m in love.
Last Tuesday, I was busy at the church office with the Sunbeam parked outside. I was having trouble focusing, praying for an excuse to get behind the wheel. The sun was high in a cloudless sky; it was as if God had left the door open to heaven and conditioned air was spilling out. It was a perfect convertible day. Apparently, He heard my prayer because Marilyn soon stuck her head into my office and asked if I’d like to go with her on some errands. Have you seen the cartoons where the character runs out of the room so quickly all you hear is the rapid fire of spinning feet leaving little whirlwinds where he once stood? I was in the car revving the motor before Marilyn realized I’d left the building. Soon we were motoring in true British-style toward the city.
We had finished our errands and the little car was running smoothly… and then, without warning, it sputtered to a halt. Driving the first several hundred miles in a new restoration are always an adventure; there are just so many gremlins lurking in the recesses of an old machine.
Fortunately, we were on Goslin Drive—you know, the neat little thru-way that winds between Kroger and Pleasantville Road along the bike path. We glided to a shady spot where I assessed the situation and was pleased to discover the trouble was trivial and not terminal. I left Marilyn with the car and hiked to the parts store. Soon it was running again.
We were ready to continue on our journey when I noticed a distinguished silver-haired gentleman, proffering a wry smile, quick-stepping his way toward us. I really wanted to get moving and had one foot in the car, but decided to step out and smile back at the approaching stranger. I’d never seen him before.
Without looking at me, he strolled to the side of the car and said, “What year is it?” I launched into a quick overview of the history of the Sunbeam. He listened patiently and nodded. Finally I asked, “Are you familiar with Sunbeams?” He didn’t answer at first, as though my question triggered a flashback. Slowly he turned his gaze toward me and said, “I used to race Sunbeams.”
I had never met Mr. Sesslar, but I knew of his reputation. A life-long Lancasterian, Don Sesslar was a champion sports car driver during the late 1950’s. He drove Porches and Sunbeams for Cy Folton’s racing stable. During The Watkin’s Glenn International race he had beaten both the Ferrari and Maserati factory teams!
I was suddenly embarrassed, realizing the drivel of information I’d given about the Sunbeam was like trying to explain simple math to Einstein.
They say age either humiliates a man or humbles him. Mr. Sesslar had achieved the latter. He was clearly pleased to see my car and seemed happy to make Marilyn’s and my acquaintance. I stopped blustering just long enough to ask him what it was like to drive at a level that few others achieve. I hope to sit down with him soon and hear more.
I do the same thing with God. I come to him, explaining what I need and imploring him to do what I want. But then it dawns on me: I am speaking to the God of the universe, who made me and knows what I need better than I know myself.
I’m reminded of the Scripture passage in which Job acquiesces to God’s stature when he writes in Job 42, verses 3 and 5:
You asked, ‘Who is this that questions my wisdom with such ignorance?’
It is I—and I was talking about things I knew nothing about,
things far too wonderful for me.I had only heard about you before,
but now I have seen you with my own eyes.
I’m really glad my car broke down when it did. There are times when we’re convinced things aren’t going well only to discover, God has a better plan.
Read Ron’s column, Simple Faith, each Saturday on the Faith Page (page 3) of the Lancaster Eagle Gazette, or visit www.lancastereaglegazette.com.