Today, I traded in my 1999 Ford Explorer for a new (to me) car. It's a beauty, really. Fully loaded, really low mileage, and a great price point make it exactly what I've been looking for. But still, I trade in my 1999 Ford Explorer for a new car today... and that has me reminiscent.I'm sentimental. I always have been and probably always will be. (A new post on that is on its way...) So, it probably isn't surprising to anybody that the prospect of retiring my car floods me with flashbacks of all the "good times."
And come on... anybody who knows me knows that car. It's the only thing I've driven my entire life! It's MATT'S CAR! Everybody knows the passenger door has to be locked by hand, and the driver has to reach over to unlock it. We're all used to rolling down the passenger window to open the door from the outside and only a handful of people can even open the other passenger door. But those quirks were, and will be special. My roommates, the guys I did COLLEGE with were the only ones who remembered to lock the front door. One of my very best friends was consistently the only person who could get that passenger door open EVERY TIME.
And then I think about all the life experiences shared in and around that car.
-That car drove me around when I was 16.
-It went with me to COLLEGE.
-I drove that thing across the country, filled with people I love.
-I've prayed for people in that car.
-I've prayed WITH people in that car.
-People have prayed for ME in that car.
-I got pulled over on my way to Dogfight callbacks in that Ford. Then I drove it across the country FOR Dogfight!
-That car broke down leaving me and a friend with one of the craziest stories in the world.
-A lifelong buddy and I made our first college trip home for Christmas in that car.
-That car drove me to every 24HR Musical we've had AND got me home safely even though I was in NO place to drive on zero hours of sleep.
-I can't tell you how many people have cried in that thing.
-A friend brought me juice pouches on one particularly stressful evening in that car.
-And more recently, that car made it to and back from the hospital for 2 months on CHECK ENGINE while Pete was in the hospital. (Might I add that Pete was the first person to drive in that car with me...)
I sat in long silences for hours at a time as I drove that thing and I owe a lot of my current goals and dreams to those times of prayer and reflection... in. that. car. And suddenly the thousands of dollars, the stress and the headache that went into maintaining that thing don't matter. I don't see them. It doesn't matter that I have to pray it'll start every morning. The investment was worth it.
But THEN I remember something Paul said in Corinthians. "So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal." It feels funny because... it's a car. It's a thing. I can't bring it with me to eternity. Jesus doesn't want me to lay a busted, broken down Ford at his feet. He wants a busted, broken down ME. And when that day comes, all Jesus is going to look for is those glimpses of the eternal, all the UNSEEN. And suddenly, his heartache, and blood and sweat and tears won't matter to him either. To him, I'm still worth the investment... not because of the broken, beat up tired human laying at his feet... but the unseen radiant Child of a living God. I hope my story at that time is a little like that old Ford's. I hope inside the unseen is motivation, laughter, love, reliability and the makings of a job-well-done.
So I'll fix my eyes on what is unseen and eternal. New cars are exciting. For me, they mean a new season of life as well. But, at the end of the day, it's temporary.
