“Let all that I am praise the Lord;  with my whole heart, I will praise His holy name.

Let all that I am praise the Lord;  may I never forget the good things He does for me.”

Psalm 103:1-2

In our 37 years of marriage, we have owned several different vehicles.  As you can imagine, each one has a story to tell.  As newlyweds, we started our journey together with a 1982 Honda Accord.  As our family grew, so did our need for a larger car.  In 1990, Paul and I were hired to assist a local gentleman in starting a homeless shelter.  He was promised a salary, but this never came to fruition.  Sadly, the North City shelter never opened due to so much red tape.  Instead of receiving monetary payment, the shelter’s director gave us a car – a 1979 Ford Granada.  This car was simple, but it did have enough room for Paul, myself, and our three children.  Not too long after taking ownership of this car, the adventure began.  While driving down the highway, the motor would suddenly shut down, leaving us no choice but to coast over to the shoulder of the roadway.  We would make several attempts to start the car back up with no success, only to try one more time and  . . . vrroooom.  We would pull back out on the highway, and sometimes we could make it home, and other times, we would get a repeat performance of this car’s weird behavior.  Frustrated, we eventually took the car to an auto mechanic.  After looking the car over and running some diagnostic tests, he couldn’t figure out the problem.  No wonder someone donated it to the homeless shelter!  Despite how it ran, we continued using it.

For a time, we lived in Hillsboro, Missouri.  We moved from a house in the City of St. Louis to a residence surrounded by cornfields and cows.  To make things even more interesting,  we rented the bottom half of a dome house from a missionary couple who spent much of their time in Venezuela.  Aside from living in the house’s basement apartment, we were stewards of their property while they were gone.  Shortly after moving in, our Ford Granada stopped working altogether.  While arranging to have it looked at, the missionary couple who lived above us loaned us their extra car.  Do you remember the automobile John Candy drove in the movie “Uncle Buck”?  Yep, that’s what he offered. And, yes, it backfired, just like the car from the film.  There is no way to say this.  We were desperate, embarrassed, and grateful all at the same time.  When we loaded up the family in that big ole’ Mercury Marquis, we all stared front and center, never making eye contact with the automobiles next to us.  We were definitely a sight to behold.  Eventually, we learned that our fickle Ford Grenada could not be fixed.  This only meant one thing: it was time to start hunting for a new vehicle.  

Our next vehicle was a 1979 blue and white Chevy Vandura van.  It was built like a tank. Whoever owned this van before us turned the front bench seat sideways.   In doing so, they created a large play area on the van’s floor.  This was, by far, our children’s favorite perk of the vehicle. We loved it because it had plenty of room to transport our growing family.  A short time into owning the van, a side window latch, which secured the window shut, had broken off.  We began our search for a replacement part by contacting junk yards.  Unfortunately, our hunt for the part was more challenging than anticipated. One day, while heading home from church, the wind caught the underside of the latchless window and flung it straight up with such force that  . . . KA-BOOM, the window shattered into tiny pieces.  Not immediately knowing what happened, we were convinced that someone had shot out the window with a gun. All of us were stunned and terrified.  We continued to own the “Blue Ox” (as Jamie called it) for approximately two more years until, finally, the engine died.    

As our family of five grew to seven, so did our desire for a more contemporary vehicle large enough for us all to travel together.  The “minivan” was our answer.  This miracle on wheels had just enough room for everyone and made us feel like we were part of the current century.  In all, we owned four used minivans between 1994 and 2017.  

One incident particularly sticks out to me.  Shortly after purchasing our third minivan, I woke up as I did any other day. Rubbing my eyes, I stumbled sluggishly from our bedroom to our bathroom.  As per my morning habits, I peered out the window with squinted eyes to evaluate the day’s weather and neighborhood activities.  Then, suddenly, I noticed that our minivan was missing from our driveway.  Astonished, I ran into the bedroom with a panicky voice and loudly announced to my husband that our minivan was gone!  Because he was still sound asleep, my startling news did not reach his conscious brain.  I repeated my announcement a little bit louder, “Paul!  Wake up!  Our minivan is gone!  Someone stole our minivan!”  His head quickly popped off the pillow.  He jumped out of bed and ran to the upstairs window.  As his eyes focused on the driveway, sure enough, the minivan was gone!  With all the ruckus in the house, the entire family had awakened to the news.  Before long, the police arrived at our home and took down all the standard information.  We were then told that the waiting game would begin. We were panic-stricken.  You see, this was the only car we owned.  It was our only source of transportation.  After researching, we learned that some statistics claimed that most cars were found and returned relatively quickly, and others didn’t offer such promising data.  The days crept by slowly while waiting to hear about our vehicle. Finally, just a few days later,  the phone rang, and it was a police officer.  He told us the news we had been praying for: our beloved minivan had been found!  After giving us the location of our vehicle, we called my brother and sister-in-law, asking them to pick us up and transport us to our minivan.  Upon arriving at the destination, we quickly noticed a circle of police cars.  In the middle of that circle sat our minivan.  It had been dumped in the middle of a vacant lot, overgrown with weeds.  Fortunately, the minivan had relatively no damage done to it except for the ignition.  The police had taken fingerprints off our van but told us that the probability of finding the culprits was not good. We were both speechless!  We were grateful the minivan had been found, AND we were delighted to hear that it only had minor damage to the ignition, but we were absolutely confused as to why someone(s) would want to steal our dated minivan.  After a short time of silence, we finally asked the question.  The police chuckled with a response: “Honestly, the main reason that older minivans get stolen is two reasons.  They are easy to steal, and the thieves just use the vehicle to get from one place to another.  After they use it for what they want, they dump it.”  

I’m not sure I expected to hear that, but it was their answer.  The more it mulled over in my brain, the more I believed in their theory. In actuality, this exact minivan was stolen two more times, AND the last minivan we owned was stolen once.  Every time, without exception, the minivans were found relatively close to where they were stolen.  Eventually, we became empty-nesters and no longer had to transport our children around.  We finally took the plunge and escaped minivan ownership.  We left our minivan days behind and purchased a beautiful black Chevy Avalanche pickup truck. I cannot begin to tell you the feeling of freedom we experienced.  Finally, with the memory of our stolen vehicles behind us, we thoroughly embraced this new season in our lives.

So, what is the point of this blog?  Why must I tell a long, sometimes humorous story about our automobile history?  Well, long-winded storytelling is my gift!  In other words, I could never work for a newspaper!  That old adage, “Just the facts, just the facts, ma’am,” just doesn’t work for me. Believe it or not,  I’m in good company with my storytelling.  Jesus was a storyteller!  He often conveyed truth by talking in parables and analogies.  Like Jesus, I, too, often use personal stories to share God’s truths.  He speaks to me often, using my personal life experiences to share Bible truths.  So . . . here’s my personal parable.  

Many years after having our last minivan stolen, I found myself evaluating my relationship with Jesus.  In my estimation (which is never accurate), things seemed promising.  Being the take-control woman I am,  I didn’t bother Jesus with trivial things, especially when things were going well.  I went through my week thinking about myself and my comforts, giving Jesus only small snippets of my thoughts.  Oh, I lived my life in a Godly manner, but I lacked a consistent two-way relationship with my Lord.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Jesus with all my heart, but I didn’t spend as much time with Him as I could have.  If the truth is known, I spent considerable time asking Jesus about what He could do for me but didn’t spend much time focusing on who He is.  God deposited this unsettling analogy in my heart as I thought about things.   All four times our minivans were stolen, thieves used, yes, used us to get what they wanted.  Once the desperate need to get from one place to another was accomplished, they ditched our van and went their own way.  Hmmm, does this sound familiar?  Is there any chance that we treat Jesus in the same manner?  When I realized what Jesus was showing me, my heart was grieved. God, who is my heavenly Father, my Savior, my Friend, my Helper, my Comforter, the Creator of everything, and my Holy almighty King, YES, I was guilty of using Him.  Instead of seeking and worshiping Him for who He is, I only sought Him for what He might do for me.  This reality hit me hard.

 Many years ago, when my father was still living, I had an odd encounter with him.  My father was the ultimate handyman and an eternal source of information.  With a hammer in hand, he should have gotten an award for being the most ingenious “fixer-upper” man alive.  If you had a problem, he would know how to fix it.  And, if couldn’t fix it, his hammer was the ultimate solution!  So, it wouldn’t be a shock to learn that when Paul and I would have problems with cars or appliances, he was my go-to guy.  Well, one day, I was having issues with something.  I don’t remember what it was, but my father’s response when I called set me back.  After giving me a step-by-step solution to my pressing problem, he gruffly told me, “Jamie, why is it that you only call me when you need something?  It would mean a lot if you could just call because you loved me.”  Ladies and gentlemen, my heart sank to my feet.  Those words burn the same today as they did over 25 years ago.  I can’t begin to tell you how wounded I felt. But, you know what? He was speaking the truth!  Despite the gruff way he said it, he was right. His response humbled me and caused me to give thought to what he said.  Jump ahead to today.  Do I seek God just to know Him? Or do I just use God for what He can do for me?  Is it possible that Jesus is asking the same difficult question of you?

For many years now, I have learned to draw closer to the Lord through Bible reading and worship.  Praise and worship have been vital to my growing relationship with Jesus.  The posture of worship and praise has given me the open door to see Jesus for who He really is in my life.  It has opened my heart to hear more clearly and transparently from God.  Don’t misinterpret what I am saying. Jesus desires for us to run to him with our struggles, needs, and anxieties.  Philippians 4:6 says, “Do not be anxious or worried about anything, but in everything [every circumstance and situation] by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, continue to make your [specific] requests known to God.”  This is only one of many scriptures encouraging us to bring our needs to Jesus.   My challenge to you is simple: take time to not only present the Lord with your needs but spend time honoring and worshiping our King.  He is beyond worthy to be praised!