I began thinking about something today. Not that that’s an absolute first, but it was probably the first time since we got “up North” that I had thought much in terms of the future. Not that I was planning my life from this point on, either. It was just a thought. A simple thought: “Some day we should get the brakes fixed on the Explorer. Maybe before we go home.” The second I made that connection in my mind I should have known I was in trouble. What had been a fleeting thought now became a raging, hearing-the-voice-of-my-Dad, demand in the back of my mind. “You better do it now. What if you caused a wreck? You’re putting everybody in danger. What kind of Granddad are you? But what about the money? How much will it cost? Can I charge it? Is there a certified, Dennis-Allen-type mechanic I can trust up here?” On and on my mind raced, until … You guessed it. I asked Josh to “show me the mechanic.” He did know a guy who had done work on his car. So off we went to fulfill that wonderful duty of auto ownership – maintenance.
The second question I was asked as they entered the work order into their computer really threw me for a loop. I never expected such a difficult question at a car repair shop. After asking for my name, they asked “Where do you live?” I wasn’t sure how to answer that. The pause, I’m sure, was only a few seconds, but it seemed like a lifetime to me. “Where do I live? In Mansfield right now. But do I have a home any more? Where do I live?” Finally I was able to muster a reply. “Somewhere in Galveston. Right now I really am not sure how to answer that.” About that time Josh stepped up and that helped me recover a bit. I gave his address.
I guess I could end the story here and say something about how driving without adequate brakes is dangerous ground like Galveston must be right now. And getting the brakes fixed is like getting right with God. I’m sure something like that would work somehow. It’s hard to wax eloquent spiritually right now, but the story is just not over yet.
Chris took me back to get the car when it was ready. A different guy was at the window. A young guy. Josh told me later he was the owner – the mechanic. I told him I was here for the Explorer. He smiled. Then he thumbed through the files and pulled out my invoice and keys and handed them to me. I had my trusty Discover Card all ready to pass over when I looked at the bottom line. It said, “Balance Due: 0.” I stared at it for a few seconds (again, they seemed like minutes). I scanned the rest of the page. Yes, the work description was all there. It was the right car. Right name. Hesitantly, I looked up to ask how much I owed him. And I looked into the face of a mechanic with a gleam in his eyes and a huge grin on his face. “No charge,” he said. “It’s on us. You have enough to think about right now without worrying about this.”
OK. Now I was stunned speechless. This wasn’t a member of Josh’s church helping me out because of Josh. I found out later he was a member of the Methodist church, helping me out just because that’s what the Body of Christ does. All I could come up with was a very feeble “thank you” and a handshake. I drove home in a daze.
So what’s the spiritual application here? To quote an old song, “This world is not my home.” Not Galveston. Not Mansfield. Ephesians 2:6 says, “And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus.” Now, that’s my home! That’s where I really live. That’s where my new friend the mechanic lives, too. We are here on assignment for our Father, the King of Kings. One day we’ll go back home. In the meantime, we just have to pay attention to where our Father is at work around us, and join him.
Father, thanks for providing a home that can never be washed away in a flood or blown away by a hurricane. I want to go home. Amen.
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