A Response to Car Troubles

It would be unfair of me not to provide a counterpoint to the previous post, as dolorous in tenor as it was. Without going in to the details of the car (except that it still looks like it will end badly, that is, with it being sold for parts), I should like to address how the Lord has answered my complaints and queries.

In essence, He spoke to me through the eighth chapter of Romans, which I had been approaching as part of my regular Bible study in the mornings. The chapter begins with Paul explaining the difference between the old man and the new man. One walks according to the flesh, the earthly way of being and doing and thinking and feeling, while the other walks according to the Spirit, because the Spirit lives in him. And because the Spirit lives in him, he is set free from fear (15), and is a son of God.

This served as a balm to my raw and swollen soul. This was comfort and consolation, the affirmation of my new position in life, my freedom from sin and fear, the opportunity to draw upon the resources of God. It helped even out my emotions through quiet consolation, a still, small whisper of love.

But the Truth came next, the bolstering up of my spirits, the renewing of my mind. Verse 18: "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." Well, that rocked me back on my metaphorical haunches. I was suffering last night, and Paul's suffering is worlds' worse than mine will ever be, in all probability. It was a kind of dope slap upside the head: Wake Up! It's just some light and momentary troubles!

Which brings me to the famous passage beginning with 31: "What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us?" He goes on to say that God's no skinflint, a niggardly Scrooge doling out coals that barely generate heat on a cold winter's day. He sacrificed His Son for us; do we really think He'll blanch at trifles like money, physical health, relationships, and the like? What are they but hay and stubble? "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?" (35). Are we that stupid as to think that the things of this world can break bonds forged in the blood of God's Son, God Himself? Even an unutterable tragedy like a car breaking down a few times can't come close to being in the same universe as the provision that blood-soaked cross and empty tomb made for us.

To add to my shame, the next verses talk of facing death, equating themselves to slaughtered sheep, before we come to arguably one of the most triumphant verses ever penned: "For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord" (38-39). We are to be more than conquerors in these things, never forgetting how we do this, "through Him who loved us," and gave Himself for us (37).

So this morning was a gentle dope slap and a spiritual hug.

Car Troubles: An Understatement

Tonight I found myself standing along the side of the road in 30 degree weather, at 10:30 at night, as my car's hazard lights dolefully signaled my depression in regular rhythmic bursts of light. Why, I asked myself? Why does this keep happening to me? What have I done? Is this punishment? Does suffering build character? Surely character-building must end and the character built must be put into practice, musn't it? How much more character do I need, O Lord?

To fully appreciate the situation, let me back up a bit. Almost 2 weeks ago my car died. Just conked out a couple blocks from my house. My uncle towed it to a mechanic he trusted and I was carless for a while, necessitating my father to drive 3 hours round trip to shuttle me to my classes. After a sojourn in Kirksville, he shuttled me back again, leaving me with the promise of the use of my good friend Walker's car. All the while the car in questions languished at the mechanic's, who seemed less interested in fixing it than taking his son to football games. 

 

At last, come Friday, I was told it was ready, after a mere $500+. I enlisted Walker's help on Saturday morning to pick it up, with a check from my parents since my cash flow is less of a flow and more of a dry ravine at this point. The mechanic refused to take a check, preferring cash. I had to cash the check and return today, once I could get someone to drive over with me. The mechanic had "fixed" the problem, but now the idle was reminiscent of my early attempts to learn stick shift, a violent bucking and missing of the engine at stops. It made it to Walker's house, where I enjoyed his company and games for a while. A mere three minutes away, the car shuddered and died. My best efforts to revive it were fruitless. Eventually Walker came and helped push it off the road, with a charitable passer-by also lending a hand. 

 

That is the tale. Less than 5 hours after getting the car back from the shop, it sputtered and died. Now, my ire toward the mechanic notwithstanding, I find myself in the position of Job, wondering why I seem to attract futility and misfortune like moths to light. Not only have I been unable to find gainful employment since being fired over 2 years ago, but I have had at least 5 significant problems with cars since then, beginning with the totalling of an earlier car. At this point the pattern is alarming.

 

"Trust in the Lord with all your heart; lean not on your own understanding. Acknowledge Him in all your ways, and He shall direct your paths." This verse floated into my mind as I drove to my house, fuming and talking to God. I poured out my frustration and despair to Him, and this is what He told me. The "lean not on your own understanding" seems easy enough, since I'm baffled at this continual catastrophe that seems to dog my efforts. Trusting in the Lord is harder, however. At least, for my heart. I am aware of the verses that speak of this, I know the arguments and answers to such wonderings; if the situation happened to someone else I would rush to offer sage wisdom and comfort. But when you're the one at the bottom of the trough and the wave looks a mile high as it looms, poised to crash over you, the calm logic rings hollow and the Christianese falls flat. My heart feels battered and bruised, bewildered and crushed, despondent and discouraged.

Birthday Musings

What would you do if you had five years to live? Or one? I guess the difference would make quite a difference, but the point of the well-worn exercise is to reexamine your life. As I celebrate another year of existence, and begin to delve into the bleak and cynical world of the television series Mad Men, I find myself pondering such arcane issues as "where do I find enjoyment in life? What do I do that satisfies me and brings me peace and contentment? And more importantly, what would I do differently if a clock was running down somewhere?"

Would I be nicer to people? Or meaner? Would I stop procrastinating with my "dreams" and ambitions? Would I lose some inhibitions or gain some? It's a fun exercise, but it doesn't really get you anywhere to muse on it for its own sake. You have to move past it to look at how we define ourselves and our lives.

You see, the people in Mad Men, 1950's advertisement marketers, define themselves by pleasure. Notably, Don Draper, the central figure (I think "hero" is inappropriate for both the actuality and intention of the show's writers) smokes, drinks, has a wife and family, a prestigious and weighty job, a steady stream of women on the side, and, well, the world on a string. And I'm only 2 episodes in but I can already see that this is almost at the zenith of the parabola of his life. He's in his thirties, can get any girl that he wishes, goes home to a dutiful and doting wife, and makes a living in NYC in a bustling and challenging industry. Yet, he's unhappy. Deeply flawed. Desperately cynical. Absolutely existential in worldview. Live for the now, it's all there is. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die. Strike that, tomorrow we will die, whether tomorrow is the next day or 30 years away. Life ends in death.

We look at athletes, cultural icons like singers or actors, the filthy rich and powerful, all desperately trying to postpone that awful truth that death awaits all of them, that their beauty, their fame, their fortune, their abilities, their influence, their legacy cannot save them. No matter how filled the hyphen may be with success, pleasure, and happiness, the date always comes last. No hyphen ever ends unresolved.

And so I look back at my 29 years on earth and see no great accomplishments, in the world's context. I'm nearly broke, alone, rotund (to put it kindly), aimless. And before me dangles the promise that life will have greater meaning if you accumulate wealth, find a dazzling beauty's affection, and create an enduring legacy. But does it? Even someone like Shakespeare, whose work still remains relevant 300 years after his death, who is lionized and canonized, is no more than words on a page. His life is over, and long since his body has disintegrated. What has his fame and legacy profited him? What does it matter if a man gains the whole world without ever saving his soul?

You see, I'm tempted to resolve to live like I have a year left in life, or five. To stop procrastinating or drifting in life's uneasy eddies and DO SOMETHING! But what would I do? And why would it matter?

I am not unaware of the answer that Christ Jesus offers to this quandary that plagues every honest soul that looks around and at itself in frank evaluation. The answers, the counters, the hope, spring to my mind. That's kind of the issue, isn't it? If God's directing my steps, then the worth of my actions, my words, my very life, lie in that context as He decides and directs. It's a suspiciously simple answer: God! He's the answer! Like a cure-all that promises panacea, just trust God and continue on. Well, I trust God. And I'm still at that place I mentioned earlier. I've trusted Him most of my life, to varying degrees. And the alternative to God holds no attraction to me; as Mad Men exemplifies and reinforces, the crazed pursuit of worth, wealth, and ecstasy in the world's context is hollow and vain. I know it, like a man knows he's in love. It's a surety born not of mind or emotion but both, and therefore deeper and higher than either. I know God exists. I know He alone can answer these deep questions and notions we all face. I know that apart from Him, everything is vanity, a chasing after the wind. I know it.

I trust God, but my heart still cries out for meaning, for purpose, for peace and pleasure. How will God provide these? Or will He wait until death renders all questions moot?