Trouble Is Relative
I know I have been a little lazy with my blogging lately, and as a result this story is a little dated, but rest assured, it has been blogged in my head for about a month.
August 20th, 2006 - a milestone in the Wilson family. It was on that date that Betsy bought a '96 Honda to take to school, and we became a 4-car family. Yes, a car for every driver and a driver for every car. Complete freedom. No more "dad, can I have the car tonight", and no more, "Kacie, can I have a ride to the bus stop?" If anyone needed to go anywhere, they would just get in their designated vehicle and go.
But anyone who knows my luck with cars knows how this story ends. Those heady days lasted exactly two weeks. Because my designated vehicle was a 1994 Ford Explorer, or as I called it the Exploder, and on Sunday afternoon, Sept. 3rd, it lived up to its name. As Marcia and I pulled into our parking space at Burnsville Center, we both smelled something not quite right. And when we got out of the car, there was a noticeable stream of fresh fluid following us all the way down the lane and into the parking spot. So I told Marcia to go on in, and I would try to make it home to pick up another member of our vast vehicle collection.
But I did not get very far, about two blocks. (I guess that's what we get for shopping on the Sabbath). By the time I pulled it over to the curb, barely moving, there was smoke billowing everywhere, and again, a sizeable streak of fluid trailing behind. I recognized these symptoms, because it happened to the same vehicle once before, almost two years to the day. Blown tranny.
I called the Allstate Motor Club (emergency roadside service is a must for me), and got the car towed to Goodyear. They were closed Sunday and Labor Day, so there was nothing to do but walk across the parking lot to the Starbucks to wait for a ride, while I drowned my sorrows in a Triple Grande Hazelnut Extra Hot Latte. Marcia called a friend to rescue her at Burnsville Center, and they came and picked me up.
By the time I got home, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, knowing that this was probably the end of the road for my beloved Exploder, and we were back to that horror of horrors that no human being should have to endure, that of juggling vehicles! Oh the humanity!
But then, as I was moping around the house, I happened to walk by Kacie's bedroom, and something hit me. So my car blew up. Big deal. Things could be worse. I got to thinking about what didn't happen to me on that day. I did not get a phone call from the hospital saying your daughter has been in an accident, and it doesn't look good. I did not get a phone call from the doctor's office, informing me that "the results are back, and the tumor is malignant". In the grand scheme of things, a blown tranny resulting in owning only three vehicles is probably pretty low on the tragedy scale.
Well, two days later, Goodyear confirmed my diagnosis, and at $2200 a tranny, I was not going to do it again. So I donated it to the American Diabetes Association, and two days later it was gone. So at least some good came out of it, they can take the $50 that car will fetch and put it towards finding a cure for diabetes.
Sorry, not done yet. I had another recent experience which reminded me that trouble is relative. I was discussing with a Christian friend of mine a recent item in the news, concerning a U.S. military chaplain who is being court marshalled for praying in the name of Jesus! We both agreed that this was a travesty, a violation of our First Amendment Freedom of Religion, and how things were really getting tough for us American Christians. Then the irony of the situation hit me full force, so much so that I mentioned it to my interlocutor, and he agreed.
You see, this conversation took place at the Fall Youth Group kickoff event, which was a swimming party at the home of a generous church family. So there we stood, poolside at a nice house in suburban Burnsville, lamenting the deplorable state of Christian life in America. I think there are probably some Christians in Sudan and North Korea who would beg to differ.
Point number three, and then I am done. Of course, as usually happens, whenever I am meditating on something in particular, my iPod seems to sense it, and joins in with something relevant to the conversation. Uncanny how it knows. So anyway, I recently came upon a new podcast (at least to me), from the Mars Hill Bible Church (just search for "Mars Hill" in iTunes), with pastor Rob Bell. Some of you I am sure are familiar with him. And he recently preached a sermon on John 21, where Jesus asks Peter three times, "do you love me", and tells him to "feed my sheep".
So he assigns to Peter a unique and exciting ministry opportunity, and what is Peter's response? Pointing to John, he says, "What about him?" Immediately, Peter, instead of taking his charge and running with it, is comparing the deal he got to someone else. And Jesus' response? "If he remains until I come, what is that to you?" And that was the title of his sermon, "What is that to you?"
What really hit me was when he expanded the application from individuals to churches. He described the church that is sitting on its hands and looking at all the mega-churches around them, and saying, if we just had their buildings, if we just had their resources, if we just had their staff, we could really do something. Instead of taking the ministry that God has given them and running with it. Wow. It is almost as though Rob Bell had been party to some conversations I have had in the last year. It is almost as if I am looking over my shoulder at Bethlehem, or Grace, or Wooddale, and saying to God, "What about them"? And I can hear God's reply, "What is that to you? Feed my sheep".
So I guess all I am saying is, be thankful for what you have, instead of being bitter about what you do not have. And don't compare yourself to others, because, as Rob Bell says, that will kill your joy. Rather, focus on being who God would have you to be, and doing what God would have you to do.
As for getting along without my own personal transportation, I catch a ride to the bus stop with Kacie every morning on her way to school (my bus stop, not hers - don't need any rumors starting), and if it is a nice evening, I walk home from the bus stop, adding a nice 15 minutes of podcast time to my day. Life goes on.
August 20th, 2006 - a milestone in the Wilson family. It was on that date that Betsy bought a '96 Honda to take to school, and we became a 4-car family. Yes, a car for every driver and a driver for every car. Complete freedom. No more "dad, can I have the car tonight", and no more, "Kacie, can I have a ride to the bus stop?" If anyone needed to go anywhere, they would just get in their designated vehicle and go.
But anyone who knows my luck with cars knows how this story ends. Those heady days lasted exactly two weeks. Because my designated vehicle was a 1994 Ford Explorer, or as I called it the Exploder, and on Sunday afternoon, Sept. 3rd, it lived up to its name. As Marcia and I pulled into our parking space at Burnsville Center, we both smelled something not quite right. And when we got out of the car, there was a noticeable stream of fresh fluid following us all the way down the lane and into the parking spot. So I told Marcia to go on in, and I would try to make it home to pick up another member of our vast vehicle collection.
But I did not get very far, about two blocks. (I guess that's what we get for shopping on the Sabbath). By the time I pulled it over to the curb, barely moving, there was smoke billowing everywhere, and again, a sizeable streak of fluid trailing behind. I recognized these symptoms, because it happened to the same vehicle once before, almost two years to the day. Blown tranny.
I called the Allstate Motor Club (emergency roadside service is a must for me), and got the car towed to Goodyear. They were closed Sunday and Labor Day, so there was nothing to do but walk across the parking lot to the Starbucks to wait for a ride, while I drowned my sorrows in a Triple Grande Hazelnut Extra Hot Latte. Marcia called a friend to rescue her at Burnsville Center, and they came and picked me up.
By the time I got home, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, knowing that this was probably the end of the road for my beloved Exploder, and we were back to that horror of horrors that no human being should have to endure, that of juggling vehicles! Oh the humanity!
But then, as I was moping around the house, I happened to walk by Kacie's bedroom, and something hit me. So my car blew up. Big deal. Things could be worse. I got to thinking about what didn't happen to me on that day. I did not get a phone call from the hospital saying your daughter has been in an accident, and it doesn't look good. I did not get a phone call from the doctor's office, informing me that "the results are back, and the tumor is malignant". In the grand scheme of things, a blown tranny resulting in owning only three vehicles is probably pretty low on the tragedy scale.
Well, two days later, Goodyear confirmed my diagnosis, and at $2200 a tranny, I was not going to do it again. So I donated it to the American Diabetes Association, and two days later it was gone. So at least some good came out of it, they can take the $50 that car will fetch and put it towards finding a cure for diabetes.
Sorry, not done yet. I had another recent experience which reminded me that trouble is relative. I was discussing with a Christian friend of mine a recent item in the news, concerning a U.S. military chaplain who is being court marshalled for praying in the name of Jesus! We both agreed that this was a travesty, a violation of our First Amendment Freedom of Religion, and how things were really getting tough for us American Christians. Then the irony of the situation hit me full force, so much so that I mentioned it to my interlocutor, and he agreed.
You see, this conversation took place at the Fall Youth Group kickoff event, which was a swimming party at the home of a generous church family. So there we stood, poolside at a nice house in suburban Burnsville, lamenting the deplorable state of Christian life in America. I think there are probably some Christians in Sudan and North Korea who would beg to differ.
Point number three, and then I am done. Of course, as usually happens, whenever I am meditating on something in particular, my iPod seems to sense it, and joins in with something relevant to the conversation. Uncanny how it knows. So anyway, I recently came upon a new podcast (at least to me), from the Mars Hill Bible Church (just search for "Mars Hill" in iTunes), with pastor Rob Bell. Some of you I am sure are familiar with him. And he recently preached a sermon on John 21, where Jesus asks Peter three times, "do you love me", and tells him to "feed my sheep".
So he assigns to Peter a unique and exciting ministry opportunity, and what is Peter's response? Pointing to John, he says, "What about him?" Immediately, Peter, instead of taking his charge and running with it, is comparing the deal he got to someone else. And Jesus' response? "If he remains until I come, what is that to you?" And that was the title of his sermon, "What is that to you?"
What really hit me was when he expanded the application from individuals to churches. He described the church that is sitting on its hands and looking at all the mega-churches around them, and saying, if we just had their buildings, if we just had their resources, if we just had their staff, we could really do something. Instead of taking the ministry that God has given them and running with it. Wow. It is almost as though Rob Bell had been party to some conversations I have had in the last year. It is almost as if I am looking over my shoulder at Bethlehem, or Grace, or Wooddale, and saying to God, "What about them"? And I can hear God's reply, "What is that to you? Feed my sheep".
So I guess all I am saying is, be thankful for what you have, instead of being bitter about what you do not have. And don't compare yourself to others, because, as Rob Bell says, that will kill your joy. Rather, focus on being who God would have you to be, and doing what God would have you to do.
As for getting along without my own personal transportation, I catch a ride to the bus stop with Kacie every morning on her way to school (my bus stop, not hers - don't need any rumors starting), and if it is a nice evening, I walk home from the bus stop, adding a nice 15 minutes of podcast time to my day. Life goes on.
posted by wilsonte | 11:55 PM
1 Comments:
Tom, Scary! I've had many of these thoughts lately. Thanks for sharing!
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