cars

Stories from Scars

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I have a scar on my left hand. It goes back to when I was 18 or 19 years old. I was driving down Poplar Avenue in Memphis, Tennessee to Cat’s Music to do some trading of music. At some point, I passed my destination. Later on, I came to a two-way flashing red light stop.

The problem was that I didn’t know it was a two-way stop. Even if I had known, I probably still wouldn’t have known what to do. The result was me pulling out in front of a full-sized truck and getting hit in the driver’s side door.

In case you’re wondering, I survived. I ended up with a rather garish wound on my left hand. At first, I could see clear to the bone. That’s when I realized that it hurt. A lot.

Thankfully, that was the extent of my injuries. Unfortunately, my car did not survive the encounter. But to this day, I carry the scar as a reminder of the foolishness of my youth and the ever-present and ever-protective grace of God.

Scars tell stories. They speak to wounds that have healed but left visible reminders. As much as the memorial stones set up by the people of God in olden times, scars are a kind of memorial to a time when you survived. They are a testimony to how God met you in the moment of your wounding and carried you through it.

Every time I see my scar, I see God’s goodness. Every time my hand cramps up when I’m writing, I think back to how close I came to not being here. I’m still thankful.

Scars can be shameful if you focus on the wound and the hurt, but they can be sacred if you choose to see how God turned that painful moment into something beautiful and good.

“Darkest water and deepest pain
I wouldn’t trade it for anything
‘Cause my brokenness brought me to you
And these wounds are a story you’ll use

So I’m thankful for the scars
‘Cause without them I wouldn’t know your heart
And I know they’ll always tell of who you are
So forever I am thankful for the scars” (Ethan Hulse, Jon McConnell, Matthew Armstrong, Matthew Hein).

A New(er) Car

/ Ragamuffingospelfan / 2 Comments

One of my favorite parts of being sick and staying home from school (not that there were many) was getting to watch Bob Barker and The Price is Right. I’m telling my age when I say Bob Barker and not Drew Carey.

The absolute best part of any episode was when they were revealing the prize the contestants would be bidding on and the announcer proclaimed, “It’s a NEW CAR!” Then everyone in the crowd went absolutely bananas.

I finally broke down and bought a new car. Well, technically a newer car since it’s a 2018, not a 2024. But fear not, loyal fans, it’s still a Jeep.

I drove home in a 2018 Jeep Wrangler. I instantly felt 33% cooler. Then later on I accidentally turned on my emergency flashers and had to consult the manual for how to turn them off and lost all my cool points. But I love it.

In a way, it’s like learning to drive all over again. So many functions are in different places that I have to think about how to roll down the windows or turn up the airflow through the car. I have to remember to use the running board because the new car is higher off the ground than the old one. But I’m thankful.

I have a car with a working speedometer where all the windows roll down every time. I have a car where I can push a button and it starts (as long as I have the key on my person or in the car). It’s blowing my late 1900s brain.

Now comes the part where I sell the trusty old Jeep. There will be some sadness (and possibly tears) when I say goodbye to the loyal Red Sled that has served me well for 11 years and been a faithful every day vehicle for 27 years. No car will ever be as good to me as that one has been.

But I’m thankful that I will have photographs and memories to look back on. I can remember all the people who rode in that car who are no longer present in this world but more alive than ever on those streets of gold in heaven.

But now I have to go study up on the manual to figure out how to work this new Jeep.

What’s Your Worth?

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Today for a lark, I decided to look up the value of my 1997 Jeep Cherokee on the Kelly Blue Book website. I had no delusions of grandeur, thinking I owned a Lamborghini or a Mercedes Benz. I knew my car was old and had over 300,000 miles on it.

Still I was a bit surprised by the result. $800 was the maximum value of my car. I could probably trade in my car for a nice bicycle, but not a really nice one. Just sorta nice.

I was more amused than offended. I know that I couldn’t get anything close to as good as the car I have now for $800. I’d be doing really good to get something that even ran for $800.

I got to thinking. If you took all the raw materials that made up a human body, what would be the worth of all those elements? I was curious, so I googled it and got the result of $5. That’s the going rate for a body’s worth of these raw materials.

I remembered something my pastor said. He said that your worth is more than what you are made of. If you were on Antiques Roadshow, the appraiser would put on his white gloves and talk in hushed excited tones.

My pastor said that if he could turn you upside down and show you the Artist’s signature, that would prove that not only are you of great worth, you are priceless.

You have more than God’s signature on you. You bear the Imago Dei, the image of God, in you. You are unique and one of a kind, and there has never been nor ever will be anyone else exactly like you.

You are also worth Christ dying to redeem you. Bear that in mind when people judge your worth by your income or your title or your possessions. Whether you live in a gated mansion or in a cardboard box, your worth and your identity is not what you have but in Who made you and Whose you are.

Oh, and I still love driving my $800 Jeep.

Jeeps

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I love driving my Jeep. I’m sure you know that by now. I still really like driving my red 1997 Jeep Cherokee Country, especially after it got a much-needed, long-overdue tune up.

I previously drove a 1995 Jeep Cherokee Sport, which I also really liked to drive. I miss that car but not the manual locks and windows or the crappy drink holder which fell over if you so much as looked at it wrong.

Sensing a trend? It honestly wasn’t planned out that way. I’ve been paying more attention since I started driving one and I see Jeeps all the time now, partly due to that incredible in-line V6 engine which is practically indestructible.

I’m thinking my next car might be a Jeep. Maybe a Wrangler (or possibly even one of those old CJ7s). It’d be fun to drive a car where I could take off the top and ride around with the sun and breeze in my hair.

The secret to happiness isn’t having the best of everything but seeing the best in what you already have. It’s being content with who you are, where you are, with what you have. Being satisfied and content is still the most radically counter-cultural mindset you can have in this current age of overspending to keep up with those proverbial Joneses.

I personally have never really lusted after one of those really expensive luxury sports cars like the Ferraris and the Lamborghinis. I don’t fancy spending more money on a car than most houses cost.

I’ve also never really had a strong desire for a muscle car. I really just want something that suits my personality and that doesn’t look like every other car on the road.

If I go with the better gas mileage, I still think I’d like to have a Mini Cooper. Those look like they’d be fun to drive.

For now, I’m feeling thankful and blessed to still be driving my vintage Jeep with over 315,000 miles on it that still looks and runs great.

I’ll stick with that one for now.

 

I Love my Jeep

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I recently had to take my 1997 Jeep Cherokee to Fitz-It Auto Repair. Anytime you have work done on an older car, there’s always the possibility– however remote– that the repairs could end up costing more than the car is worth.

Thankfully, all my car needed was a tuneup. Now it runs better than it has in a long, long time. In fact, driving the Red Sled, as I affectionately call my vehicle, is more fun than ever.

It won’t ever get mistaken for a luxury sports car like a Lamborghini or a Ferrari. It doesn’t get the ridiculously good gas mileage of a hybrid like a Toyota Prius. It’s “vintage,” which is another way of saying it’s OLD.

But how many 20 year old cars are still on the road? How many engines are still running after over 300,000 miles?

Contentment is loving what you already have and being brave enough to say that no, I don’t need more to be happy. I have enough. In this day and age, that’s a rare and radical mindset.

I may be an old fart for saying this, but I don’t see very many cars rolling out of the automotive plants these days that will have the staying power of those old Jeeps. Those Cherokee engines practically last forever if you routinely take care of them and do all the regular maintenance (like getting tuneups more than once every 20 years).

I think everyone should have at least one car in their lifetime that’s just fun to drive. Screw practicality and economy and safety ratings and just pick something that you can roll down the windows and turn up the volume on the music and enjoy the open road.

It helps if you have good music to go with your fun ride. That’s also a must.

 

Sometimes You Just Need a Little Ella in Your Life

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I am about to go on record and make a bold statement: I have old fashioned tastes in movies. I’m not a fan of movies with lots of unbelievable car chases and overblown dialogue and cars that turn into robots. I don’t like moves that are a BLAST (Big, Loud, And Stupid, Too).

I like movies with characters and situations I can relate to. I like well-written dialogue and well-thought out plot twists. I want to have to think a bit and not always be able to predict what’s coming next.

I like old movies. I think if I could only have one channel on my TV, it would be TCM. They show the best classic movies.

I also am becoming more and more of a fan of old music. I know I sound like an old fart when I say what I’m about to say, but I don’t care. I like music with a melody and singers who can sing. Like Ella Fitzgerald.

I love her voice and her impeccable phrasing. Truly, there was no one else like her. And there never will be.

Sometimes, I need to take a break from modern music and get my Ella fix. Her music makes me feel nostalgic for an era that was way before my time. It relaxes me and makes me feel better.

What was the point of all this? I forget. Maybe that it’s good to go old-school and retro every once in a while. Or maybe to like what you like and not card whether it’s hip or cool or if anybody else likes it.

Yeah, that must be it.

One Second and One Year Later

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“What was intended to tear you apart, God intends it to set you apart. What has torn you, God makes a thin place to see glory” (Ann Voskamp, The Greatest Gift).

I just realized today that it’s been exactly one year today since I got hit by that car. And for those who weren’t keeping up with my blogs or my Facebook posts then, I got hit by a car. FYI.

I was crossing the street in downtown Franklin, ticket in hand to see The Perks of Being a Wallflower. I didn’t look both ways before crossing and stepped in front of a Ford Mustang. Hey, I only get hit by the finest American-made vehicles.

I actually only got side-swiped. It was enough to knock me down and to take off the side-view mirror of the car.

I felt worse for the young girl driving the car than for me. She was so apologetic and remorseful. And it really wasn’t her fault. I was the one crossing where there wasn’t a crosswalk, walking without looking.

Even now, it’s easy to wonder what would have happened if I’d waited one second. Just one second.

I’d have seen that movie. I’d have skipped a few hours in the ER. I’d still have roughly $1,600 in my pocket.

I’m sure you’ve done that.

Maybe it’s a word or a phrase spoken in the heat of the moment out of frustration or anger.

Maybe it’s a bad decision made in haste or out of desperation or anxiety or exhaustion.

Maybe it’s the friendship you ruined or the family member you drove off with an insensitive remark or unkind word.

Maybe it’s one false step on a slick spot in the garage or on a slippery patch of ice on some stairs.

You wonder what it would be like if you could just have that one second back to do over.

I know two things: 1) if you could go back, you’d erase every good thing that’s happened since, and 2) you can’t go back anyway (at least not without a 1985 DeLorean or some other time-travelling device).

What you can do is:

1) Be thankful that you’re still here and that you’re still alive and blessed with life and friends and comforts and (best of all) God Himself.

2) Remember that God can turn even the worst moments of your life into stories worth hearing, stories that make people want to know more about your God.

3) All really and truly is grace (something I borrowed from Ann Voskamp). Nothing that happens to you is in vain or needless. God works everything– and I mean EVERYTHING– together for your good and His glory.

I finally got to see that movie. My finger looks a bit funny but it still works. I look both ways EVERY time before crossing the street now. Life is still good, God is still great, and I am still very much blessed.

Baseball After an 11-Hour Shift? Sounds Good to Me

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What does a normal person do after putting in an 11-hour shift on a Friday before a holiday weekend?
A. Go home and crash into a 48-hour coma.
B. Go eat my weight 1) chocolate and/or 2) fried foods.
C. Both A and B.

If you answered A, B, or C, you’d be wrong. I opted for
D. Drive to a Nashville Sounds game to hang out with my amazing community group.

Ok. I cheated. But then again, no one has ever accused me of being normal. I’m crazy and I go normal from time to time. It’s usually the worst 5 minutes of my day. Normal is not something I’ve ever been good at. Being unique is something I’m starting to excel at.

It was hot. And muggy. I sweated like a pig visiting a bacon factory. It was not pretty. For me or anyone within smelling distance of me.

The game was good. My team won and there was much rejoicing. Yay.

More than anything, I remember good conversations with good friends, good funnel cake (fried), and good memories made. Throw in some cold lemonade and an encouraging text or two and I call it a perfect night.

I am seeing God in the tiny details these days. And He’s everywhere. Like in the unexpectedly cool breeze on a humid day, grace from friends, the freedom to finally forgive myself for not being all things to all people, and good funnel cake. You just have to know where to look and how to see with eyes of faith.

I am still learning to live in the moment and love God there. No more dwelling on past regrets or future maybes. God is here now and I can only hear Him speaking if I am fully present in the present. Right here, right now.

Lord, I am here now hearing now. Speak, for Your servant is listening.

Isn’t It Ironic? Don’t You Think?

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ironic1

Ahh, the irony of it all. And as you well know, the opposite of irony is wrinkly. That was a freebie, totally unrelated to what will follow.

I have to confess something. Again.

I’m really good at patience until I run into someone who’s not. Let’s just say I am very impatient with impatient people. You know the kind. Those who are ALWAYS in a hurry and will cut in front of you to save those precious few seconds.

I’m a big believer in grace and showing it to others. Except for when it comes to legalistic and judgmental people. Like those Westboro Baptist people. I’d really like to give them a piece of my mind, which is probably not a good idea since I need to keep what mind I have left.

I am all for inclusion and welcoming everybody. Except for that guy who is obviously not as socially adept as I am. Or that girl who refuses to join in the conversation.

ironic2

Do you get where I’m going?

All this proves that I am, despite all my own protests to the contrary, all the things I detest in those other people. I am impatient, judgmental, exclusivist, and not a loving person. At least not in a way that will make people around me take notice.

Anybody can love someone who loves them back. It’s easy to be kind to a kind person.

But a true test of patience is dealing with those impatient folks. A true test of grace is how you answer those who are always out condemning this group or that person. The litmus test of Christ’s love is intentionally showing love to those who aren’t as easy to talk to or get along with.

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Now isn’t that ironic? Don’t you think?

We– meaning, I– would like to think that this love business is just something we can get down if we try harder, work at it more, eat our greenies, and grit our teeth.

The truth is it’s impossible to truly love someone the way we’re supposed to. Like the way Jesus loves us.

Only Jesus can love like that. Only Jesus’ love for us in us flowing through us can reach other people that we would (or could) never love on our own.

Like the Robert Randolph song says, “I need more love every day of my life.”

I need more of that love.

Maybe the more I make an effort to go to that unsocial person, that impatient driver, that judgmental guy with an open mind and an open heart, the more that love flows out of me and the more I am able to receive.

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May we be less like lakes where love stagnates and more like rivers where love always flows in and out.

Ramen Noodle Nights

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We had a special promotional handout to give to the good people at Kairos tonight. To raise awareness of Belmont Move-In Day on August 17, we handed out packages of ramen noodles (not to be confused with Roman numerals). For me, seeing one of those brought back so many memories.

For those of you who are sadly uninformed about these marvels, Ramen noodles are a super-cheap food source primarily consumed by the college freshman. Notice I said food source. I did not say food. I’m fairly certain no actual food ingredients are in these noodles. It’s entirely preservatives and GMOs and MSGs and all those other products that are really supposed to be bad for you. The upside is that if you eat these consistently, you probably won’t need botox any time soon.

Sometimes, you want more than Ramen noodles. I’m sure no one ever turned down a porterhouse steak for Ramen noodles. But Ramen noodles do beat nothing. Barely.

Sometimes, you might wish you had a better job and a better living situation. You might dream of driving a newer car that doesn’t have as many quirky noises and “character” i.e. scratches, dents, holes, missing parts, etc.

The upside is that you have a job. You have a place to live. You have a car that gets you places, even though it may not be in style. Part of the eucharisteo lifestyle of thanksgiving and gratitude with joy that I’ve been writing and talking about lately is being thankful for what you do have. Being out of a job for a long period of time makes any job seem better and I am more consciously grateful for the job I have now.

Ramen noodles aren’t something you eat at every meal for the rest of your life. They get you through until you can afford real food. That’s the same for parts of your life. Your time of singleness may seem like it will never end, but it’s just a season where God molds you into the husband or wife who can best serve and cherish and love the spouse He has for you.

Your job and living situation may not be ideal, but God is teaching you to be faithful and diligent in the small things before He will entrust you with more. And remember you woke up today. You got out of bed and walked. You were able to dress yourself and think rationally. There are so many things you take for granted that once you start giving thanks for will open your eyes to how blessed you really are.

I just may have to buy me some Ramen noodles soon. I wonder if they’re still 4 for $1.