For Wilshire Baptist Church
We recently traded my 2009 car for a new one. Eight years and 133,000 miles was enough. I got the 2017 version of the 2009 make and model without shopping around because it suits me fine. It’s just the way I roll. In high school and college I hit the repeat button on the same brand and style of tan suede shoes that were popular in the day. I do the same thing today with blue jeans: I grab, pay and go without trying them on. The old ones are comfortable and the new ones will be too.
In these early days of driving a new car I’ve wondered: When is it that the new car smell fades and I quit parking away from other vehicles? It’s not that I quit caring; I keep my cars clean and I don’t turn them into mini-storage units or dashboard diners. But there’s always a decline of obsessiveness as the first dings and scratches start to show.
Every family probably has stories about how their new cars got broken in. LeAnn’s parents tell about the time she dumped a strawberry snow cone onto the back seat of a new car. And me? I got car sick a lot as a kid and that definitely killed the new car smell.
I’ve never been sentimental when I’ve traded cars, but I always hold onto memories as I hand over the keys. Such as my 1998 ride, which logged a lot of miles on a daily commute to Fort Worth and collected smiles and muddy paw prints from a black Labrador who loved to swim at White Rock Lake. Later would come anxious drives to doctors and hospitals until one day when the passenger seat was empty. I gave up that vehicle when a friend needed wheels and I needed to turn the corner.
I bought the car I just traded in 2009 at the start of a new journey. LeAnn was the first person to ride in the front passenger seat, and a couple of years later we drove away in it on our honeymoon. It bore the load when I moved three times in 10 months as we merged our lives. It carried us to the symphony downtown, football games in Waco and Wilshire most Sundays.
So much of what we consider valuable deteriorates with age – our cars, our houses, our flesh-and-blood bodies. Sometimes it’s from abuse, neglect or accidents, but mostly it’s just from normal wear and tear that comes with living. But one thing that can improve with wear and tear is our soul – our spirit. The more troubles we have, the stronger our spirit can become if we keep the faith and keep trusting God.
Wilshire’s Michael Prysock sang about this on a recent Sunday morning in the beautiful Andre Crouch song, Through it All:
I thank God for the mountains, And I thank Him for the valleys,
I thank Him for the storms He brought me through.
For if I’d never had a problem, I wouldn’t know God could solve them,
I’d never know what faith in God could do.
If you haven’t heard it, take a moment to listen: Through It All
I think as we grow older and we experience more – as the new wears off of our spirit and we get broken in – we can begin to be comfortable in our own skin if we have faith. I used to worry about a lot of things, but I’ve come to know that some of those things are just not worth the worry. And the bigger things that do matter? God has them covered.
Meanwhile, I wouldn’t trade this dented and dinged life of mine for a new one or anyone else’s. It’s worn, but it fits me. Every scratch and scuff tells a story of mistakes, pain and turmoil that ultimately led to growth, joy or at least some new understanding. And just like when a new car gets broken in and you quit obsessing about it and start focusing on other things, the unexpected turns of life can lead you to look beyond yourself to other, more important matters.
Of course, people of faith believe that someday, somehow, we’ll be made new by God. I don’t know if that will be like driving off the lot in a new set of wheels, or more like having our old wheels rotated and our body washed, waxed and detailed for the next part of the trip. I have faith it will be good either way.