nonFictionality

What My Car Taught Me About Life and Faith

When I graduated from high school my parents surprised me with my first car, a 1997 Volkswagen Jetta gls.  It drove smoother than almost any other car I have ever driven.  And, better yet, it had a working sunroof, automatic windows, automatic locks, CD player, manual transmission, and speakers that, when turned all of the way up, could be heard from down the street.  It was three different shades of red, but they were the most perfect three shades of red that I had ever seen.  And it looked especially good with me in it and my girlfriend at the time beside of me.

I was proud.

Until I had to drop three hundred dollars into it to have a starter clutch replaced two weeks later.

Then I cursed.

Then, after having it for a month or so, it rained.  I found out that, when a coil on the bottom of the car got wet, the engine would shut off.  Thus, making my car un-driveable until this coil had completely dried.  Usually it would shut off in the middle of a busy road or a parking lot.  I would have to wait for up to two hours before it would begin working again, and then, whenever it did work again there was no guarantee that I would make it to my destination before it decided to cut off.

During those waits I would hit my steering wheel and curse.  And, when someone would come up and knock on my window to ask if everything was alright, I would be embarrassed and say that everything was fine so that they would go away.

One time my dad had to come help me push it out of the middle of one of the busiest roads in our town during a torrential downpour.  Not one of my proudest moments.  I think I cried.  Though it might have just been the rain in my eyes.

Slowly the perfection that this little ’97 Jetta once held, started to fade away.  Eventually, I couldn’t lock the doors because the alarm would go off for forty-five minutes when I unlocked it again.  When I would drive down the road my gas gauge would fluctuate so that I could never tell if I was empty or full, so I filled it up a little bit every few miles to avoid the embarrassment of walking down the road with the red gas can of shame.  Not only could I not tell how much gas I had, but I couldn’t tell how fast I was going either.  The speedometer stopped working.  And soon after it, the tachometer stopped reading. Eventually my girlfriend would make up excuses as to why we should drive her car instead of mine.  She’d try to lure me into driving her car with the new car smell, which eventually became a swift kick to my masculinity and pride.

It had fallen apart.

My car.
My life.

I look back and I see the clouds of that storm and the rains it brought with it.  I look back and I am amazed at what that little car is still teaching me.

Here is what I have learned:

It is okay to yell at God and hit the steering wheel every once in a while, He can handle my anger and frustration.  In the end, He is still going to love me.  He is going to forgive me for my tantrum.

The people that ask if I need help are people that actually care about my life and well being.  We can ignore these people all we want, but if they truly care about us they will always be there.  It is important to have these people around you, no matter how embarrassed you may be at your life.

There will always be storms, but that doesn’t mean that I always have to shut down when going through them.  I’ve realized that during a storm, I, unlike my car, have the choice to shut down or to push through the rain and wind out into the sunlight.  God still has a plan for me, even though I may not be able to see through the sheets of circumstances that I may currently be driving through.

If I am not confident in who I am and what my Father has given me, I do not need to be in any kind of dating relationship.  Sometimes, when you’re as stubborn as me, this lesson takes a long time to learn.  God has made me just how I am and He has given me everything I have because He loves me and because of that grand plan He promises for my life.  My identity is not found in another person or in worldly things, it is found in Him and Him alone.

I sincerely hope that the lessons I learned from my 1997 Jetta resonate with you in some way today.
I pray that, if you are driving through a storm today, that you remember who is in control.  He has a plan.
Continue driving, even though you can’t see the sunlight right now.  Don’t you dare stop!

And, as a favor I would like to ask you to take half a second out of your day and have a moment of silence for Clark, the Jetta. I would greatly appreciate it.  While he was the source of much frustration, he was a valiant steed.

Have a great day!
-Josh

Thank you again for reading! I would love to hear your thoughts on all of my vehicle mishaps and life lessons learned.  And if you have some lessons or mishaps to share of your own, I would love to hear those as well!