I bought a car from my parents a few years ago. Just gave them cash for it. It was a Lincoln Towncar, and I think it had 96,000 miles on it when I bought it. It was a great car. When you buy a car, you buy more than just the wheels and the engine and the A/C. You buy more than the sound system and the leather seats. You also buy the oil changes and the belt replacements. I’ve had to do all that. And I had to buy gas for it. And I had to replace the suspension system. I didn’t blame my parents for all that. I purchased the car.
It’s the same with a house. When we bought our house we had to find a title company to research the property. They checked for liens and judgments, for back taxes, and stuff like that. And I had to find an inspector, too. Because when you buy a house you not only get all the nice benefits of a shelter from the rain and rooms to sleep in and a kitchen to cook in and a bathroom to bathe in and a/c and a two car garage. You also get all the liabilities. So if the property is found to be in a flood zone or is condemned or something, you get that, too. You also get the leaks and termites and stuff.
And when I was driving in to work today, I was thinking about this. And I was also thinking that if I were a king and conscripted a soldier it would be the same. I’d have to feed him, train him, equip him, and take care of him. If he was hurt I’d have to move him off the line, and when he was recovered I’d have to redeploy him. With a slave it would be even more true. Not only would I have the benefit of all his service, but I’d also have to provide for his basic needs, and even his higher needs like community and family.
Last week our church read Luke 9 in The Message. When I finished reading I asked everyone what they heard. The biggie was this section:
Then he told them what they could expect for themselves: "Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat—I am. Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I'll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way, to finding yourself, your true self. What good would it do to get everything you want and lose you, the real you? If any of you is embarrassed with me and the way I'm leading you, know that the Son of Man will be far more embarrassed with you when he arrives in all his splendor in company with the Father and the holy angels. This isn't, you realize, pie in the sky by and by. Some who have taken their stand right here are going to see it happen, see with their own eyes the kingdom of God."
Jesus was entering this new stage in his life. He had been healing, setting captives free, and teaching all over the place, but now he set his course for Jerusalm and all that would happen there. And it was like he was giving his disciples the heads up. If they thought this was about self-improvement they were wrong. From now on they would see that this was about self-emptying—first for Jesus, then one by one for each of them. And if they still thought that they were at the center of their own lives, if they still wanted to find a way to win, if they still wanted to find a way to be in charge, they were going to be offended, because the Way was not about filling up but about giving up. And the secret was not to lead but to be led.
And I couldn’t help but think about ownership. People within Christianity talk a lot about choices, the choices everyone has to make day to day. But I don’t know how many of them live like they’ve already made their choice. I do believe in choice, but I think there is really only one. It seems to me that you either live in a reality that you are your own, you have free will, you choose among the things that present themselves to you day by day. Either that, or you live in a reality that you belong to God—sort of as his vehicle or his home or his soldier or his slave. If you are your own, then you can proceed to live your own life, and to make your own decisions, basing them on your knowledge of God and faith. But if you are not your own then you don’t have any decisions to make.
And there are two realities.
The first one goes like this: “Every day I am presented with choices, and my faith helps me decide which way I will live.” And if you live this way then you are your own.
The second goes like this: “Every day I am presented with choices, but they are false choices because they are not really my choices to make. I already made my choice. I am no longer mine.” And if you live this way then you are not your own. You are bought with a price.
To live the first way is to live with the knowledge of God but in a kind of present darkness. To live the second way is to live in the light, to walk the truth that God did really send Jesus to redeem you from sin, and that you really are bought with a price, that you really are not your own, that you really are ransomed and redeemed, and really are being ransomed and redeemed.
The great thing about self-sacrifice, about being purchased by God, and owned by Him, is that He is a good owner. He takes care of his property. He maintains it. He refills it with the needed fuel to make it day to day. He does major repairs (for some of us, MAJOR repairs). He owns it all. He even owns our faults and our liabilities. We don’t even have to worry about them. That's why we don't have to worry about making the wrong choice. That's why we don't have to worry about wearing out or running out. That’s why it’s really kooky when people make such a big deal out of sin that they won’t just confess it. They somehow still think they still own that liability and want to take care of it themselves before they can testify about it. Crazy. Dark.
Maybe the greatest thing about being owned by God is that he has these great ideas for his property. The bible talks about man being the glory of God. And when I read that I get this image of a little child getting this awesome toy and showing it to everyone, always keeping new batteries in it, never letting it leave his sight, sleeping with it, eating with it, and always knowing where it is, and never losing it. But I also think that unlike a little child God never gets tired of it. It’s like the novelty doesn’t wear off for Him. Maybe that has to do with how much he actually paid for it.
3 comments:
Wow. Your writing is always good. But this is really good. Of course, I know you can't take credit since you don't own it :)
Jill
you know, I read this and had a vision of being an old clunker out back. Sitting there with the hood open, the tall grass and weeds growing up through the hood area. Rusting, maybe even up on cinder blocks. The old beater that has been in "round tuit" status for a long time.
It'll be a hoss once it gets (if it ever gets) in the shop, but it's been out in the back so long it makes one wonder. Some days it's noticed, some days it's not. On the days the owner does look at it sitting out there, barely visible among the much-needed-to-be-cut grass, the owner thinks fondly of it.
He knows what he is going to do with it, but for now there are other things in the hopper.
The good thing for him is that ol' clunker doesn't say anything. It just sits there. It is inanimate.
The elements just rain and glare on it, and it's showing itself worse for the wear. Sunfading of the paint, torn upholstery with stuffing sticking out of the popped seams, rust. It looks a mess.
If it had a mind it might wonder, "why doesn't he just sell me for scrap? why not sold and chipped up to something else?"
But it doesn't think. It's dead. It just sits there. Until. When. If.
What a beautiful picture. I can feel the rust as I pat the hood. I smell the grass and hear the locust volley. The autumn shadows of the trees and the dilapidated old barn speak to me to savor this moment, for the sun is just about through painting this day--saving his most brilliant colors for that final stroke.
Your words have awakened a nostalgia in me for a place I knew as a child that existed partly out back in my old boots & jeans and partly in my imagination.
And they have also awakened another vision. I can see a guy with a two-day shadow on his face, oily cheeks, oily hat, and thick, oily fingers, driving that old rusty truck down the road into the cool morning sunrise, window down, elbow out, tipping his hat to everyone he passes, sporting that boyish grin. The look on his face says "I know what I'm doin'" and "You ain't seen nothin' yet". Nobody thought that thing would ever run again, but there it is, making a hell of a lot of noise, and booming out smoke every forty yards or so. And all along the road folks can't keep their belly from laughing or their feet from tapping as they are once again reminded that there's no telling what might come down the Old Blacktop Way.
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