Taking out the Trash

I've been writing columns for twenty years.  Some of the things I wrote were - I hate to admit - filler.  Something to write because there's space for it to be written and a deadline for the written space.  Some of the things, though, were pretty good!  And hopefully, some of them were helpful as well.
Being something of a digital saver, I've got hundreds of these old articles stored up.  Perhaps I should have trashed them long ago, but now I'm going to take out the trash in a whole 'nother way.  One article at a time.  I do this in the hopes that you may find something of value in them.
My intent is to create something of an archive to make them searchable by topic - don't know how to do that yet, but I'm hoping the learning curve kicks in as I work on these things.
To start it all off, here's an oldie from 2001 that I've remembered with some pleasure:

THE DEVIL CAR

     "Dad, would you like to buy that brown car?"  "Thanks, but I don't need it."

     "Dad, I'll sell you that brown car cheap."  "Thanks, but no."

     "Dad, if you want it, you can have that brown car for free."  "Sorry.  No."

     "Dad, I have to get rid of that brown car.  Will you please come get it?"  He even gave me a ride there, I think to make sure I'd really show up.  Then, of course, I wouldn’t have another way home, either.

     First, he popped the hood.  This is a three-step procedure in which you pull the lever under the dash, then block it so it doesn't release, then use a screwdriver and pry up the front of the hood.  I think this is a marvelous technique and should be copied by Detroit as a battery-theft deterrent.

     Then he added water to the radiator.  Then he added transmission fluid.  Then he added oil.  Then he didn't add anything to the power steering pump.  He said it was useless.  The radio works well enough to annoy you.  The ashtray falls out.  Staples hold the ceiling liner in place.  The tires are okay.  As long as I have it, this will be called the Devil Car.

     It is a hundred-mile drive.  In about ten miles, the hood started bouncing.  At thirty miles, it was overheating.  I drove by Spaldings wrecking yard.  If I had another ride home, the car would have gone no farther.  By the time I drove up Sunset Hill, it was starting to shift on me.  When I stopped to add transmission fluid, I found a tool still blocking the hood release lever.  At least the hood stayed in place for the last 30 miles. 

     At what point do you say something is beyond redemption?  The Devil Car seemed like a good candidate for the honor.  The thing is, I was already the owner, and had brought the car from Idaho.  It cost $120 just to get it titled in Washington!  I had to at least try to do something with that investment.  So I started tinkering.  Very few dollars and a little time, and it's not overheating any more.  Tighten a few loose bolts, and the transmission no longer leaks.  Same somewhere else, and the power steering works.  Six bucks at U-Pull, and the hood pops open and the ashtray doesn't.

     So I repeat: at what point is beyond redemption?  And what if that something is a person?  I would like to suggest to you that we often give up on people too quickly.  We look at people, and we judge them good or bad.  Sometimes, intelligently, we observe them, watch their actions and attitudes, and accurately assess their character.  Then we judge them.  We may even judge them correctly.

     The thing is, in Jesus Christ people have a new owner.  He holds our title in another place.  And we are bought with a price - He has an investment in us He wants to protect.  So He starts Tinkering.  Tinkering is tinkering with a capital T.

     God has a remarkable record with wrecks that appear beyond redemption.  Father Abraham lied and hid behind his wife.  Moses was a fugitive murderer.  David was an adulterous murderer.  Jonah was a mean old grouch.  Peter denied Jesus three times, Thomas refused to believe, and Paul persecuted Christians.  God made something wonderful out of each.

     Sometimes we look at a person and think he’s beyond redemption.  Sometimes we think that way about ourselves.  Maybe under the current ownership they are.  But if you change the title, the new owner is called "the Redeemer," and He's pretty good at what He does.

     I've been thinking of a personalized license plate for the Devil Car.  See if you can figure it out: DVLNOMO

www.stevemclachlan.com