I really enjoy working on vehicles. Always have. There is something freeing about the feeling that no matter what happens, you have the ability to fix it.
It all started when I was a child and my dad would invite me to hold a flashlight for him while he did the work. I pestered him with questions about the parts, the roles of parts, and why parts broke. He was very patient, always answering the questions. Some of my fondest childhood memories involve lying on my back under a vehicle.
Since getting married and being blessed with two very reliable vehicles, I haven’t done much mechanical work in the past few years. That is, until last week when my car refused to start.
I turned the key and heard “click.” No driver likes hearing that sound.
I made sure the battery connections were good, turned the key, and “click.”
I traced the cables leading to the starter, saw everything was good, and “click.”
I tapped the starter and solenoid, climbed back into the driver’s seat, and “click.”
Now it seemed the car was mocking me, just refusing to crank to spite me.
I checked each fuse by pulling them and shining a light on them to make sure they were good. I found one that was bad and replaced it. I climbed into the driver’s seat with anticipation and hope, and “click.” This was getting personal.
I removed the starter and replaced it, thinking this would surely solve the problem. After putting the brand new, shiny starter in place, carefully hooking up the wires and making absolutely certain everything was bolted tight and right, I climbed back in the driver’s seat, turned the key, and “click.” Now it was beyond personal.
I took the old starter to the auto store to have it tested. It passed. I put it back on my car that by this time had earned the nickname “Green Monster of Nightmares.”
After spending another two days thinking and researching about what the possible problem could be, I decided it was out of my league and called a real mechanic. He said he would be over later that afternoon.
Not one to admit defeat so easily, I decided to look once more under the hood to see if I could see anything new. I closely examined the battery terminals again, carefully traced the battery cables to and from. I finally saw the smallest hint of green on one cable. I just knew it couldn’t be something so simple, especially after I had spent so much energy on other things. But I removed the corrosion, climbed into the driver’s seat, and “vroom.” The car cranked. It purred like an innocent kitten that had no idea the trouble it had caused me over the last five days.
1 Corinthians 5:6-8 says sin is like leaven. “Do you not know that a little leaven leavens the whole lump,” Paul writes. To put it in mechanical terms, “Do you not know that a little corrosion can disable the whole engine?”
Fortunately, God has much more patience than I do and doesn’t give me the nickname “Little Pile of Garbage.” He calls me His beloved son. Often times I have things in my life that I don’t see because I’m busy looking at other things, trying to fix everything else that doesn’t even need fixing. But God is calmly, patiently pointing me to the one thing that is causing me to stumble spiritually. When I finally slow down enough to hear Him, He points it out to me, brings conviction that leads to repentance, and my spiritual engine is brought back to life.
We all have “corrosion” to deal with. Open your heart to the real Mechanic today.