On being told off

Recently, after waiting several months, I finally took delivery of a brand-new car. Now I thought my trusty, twenty-two-year-old Ford Fairmont was luxurious enough, but my mind has been boggled by all those amazingly clever features my Toyota Corolla has. I mean, how did I ever drive before without keyless ignition? And how did I ever get by without being able to lock and unlock the car even if my key is still in my handbag?

Sometimes I suspect my new car could be smarter than I am, especially when it refuses to lock if a window is down a fraction or when it winks at me from those little lights in my outside mirror, if a car is near my blind spot. Even during school holidays, whenever I drive near a school, a bell dings and that very polite lady hidden in my car somewhere says in a state of mild panic: ‘Caution! You are approaching a school zone!’ And when she later informs me I have now left the zone, I feel I have been given an early mark for good behaviour.

However, this lady completely floored me when I discovered she can read every speed sign around. I mean, I had barely erred a few kilometres over the fifty kph limit near where we live when her voice startled me almost out of my wits. ‘Please obey all traffic regulations!’ she boomed in a highly accusatory tone. It was as if she were saying, ‘What on earth do you think you’re doing, Jo-Anne? How dare you go over the speed limit! Stop it this instant!’

I was shocked and embarrassed. I do not normally speed and, if I did, it was probably because I was distracted by all the bells and whistles in my new car. However, not wishing to upset her again, I immediately slowed down and toed the line.

This experience helped me drive more safely, which is a good thing. But, as soon as I heard that lady’s urgent, reproving voice, it somehow reminded me of my old view of God. As a young person and even on into my adult years, I used to think of God as being much more of a judge than a friend.  Often, I would picture God as frowning at me and as disappointed in me, if I failed to reach those high standards I was required to meet. If I behaved, God would love me and be pleased with me, I thought. But otherwise…

Imagine my relief then when I experienced how gracious and loving and accepting God is! Gradually I saw too that I need to love God in return with all my heart and soul and others as well (Luke 10:27-28). And that involves living in a way that pleases God and brings God honour—which includes obeying the road rules! But I do not need to fear being told off by a harsh, disapproving, heavenly judge. Instead, I can step into each day at peace with God, rejoicing that Jesus has bridged the gap between us and ready to love and serve God and others as the Spirit leads.

To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood… to him be glory and power for ever and ever! Amen. Revelation 1:6

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Old faithful

We have almost reached a milestone moment in our family. Very soon, our second car, which mostly I drive, will be pensioned off. I thought I wouldn’t mind saying farewell to my faithful, old chariot, yet it has become like an old friend to me, after owning it for over twenty years. In that time, it has travelled around 270,000 kilometres in Sydney and country areas, as well as interstate. And it is still eminently drivable, so much so that we recently lent it to a friend, until she could get her own car.

We bought our Ford Fairmont second-hand in 2000—it was only eighteen months old and had been well cared for. However, when we took it home, it refused to fit fully in our small garage. As a result, over the years, its lovely, shiny, maroon paint faded on the boot and nearby areas, leaving it looking more than a little battered. On top of that, my faithful, old car has recently developed some quirky characteristics. The remote key does not work anymore. The bonnet now refuses to open, except by force. The driver’s window may wind down, then refuse to wind up. Or it may even go down further—or perhaps up, when it’s good and ready. Who knows? Yet through it all, the car itself keeps purring along beautifully—and I particularly love the way it can tackle any steep inclines with ease.

In the last thirteen years, during my writing and speaking journey, my car has taken me on all sorts of adventures. Many times, I have packed my books into its roomy boot, along with my laptop and other paraphernalia, and set off for some event, wondering what lay ahead. Would many people turn up? Would my audience be interested in what I shared? Would I sell any books? At times too, I wondered if I would even find where I was to speak, but somehow, I always got there. Of course, my car does not have GPS, so I have relied on printed maps—or, in desperation, my phone. Yes, my faithful, old car holds many emotion-filled memories for me.

Yet recently, as I looked at its battered appearance and recollected its funny quirks, I sensed it also had something to teach me—and perhaps all of us. We too may have developed some funny quirks along the way. We may look a little more battered and worn that we used to—I know I do! We may even refuse to do certain things anymore, just like my old car. But we still have so much to offer. We can look back on all the years during which God has been with us and guided us and taught us. And from that experience, we can still share the love and grace of God with others, however we are gifted and whatever our age.

At the end of my life, I hope, like my car, I can be called ‘old faithful’. I hope I can still say honestly, when that day comes:

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 2 Timothy 4:7

Is that your desire too? Let’s all stay strong in the battle. Let’s finish well. And, above all, let’s keep believing in our amazingly faithful God.

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Locating those lights

I knew it would be quite a long drive to get to my friend Sue’s recent book launch, but I definitely wanted to attend. After all, having just launched my own ninth book, I know full well what it feels like to put our creations out there in public for the first time. Besides, I had been involved in editing Sue’s book, Skinny Girl, in its final stages and was also present at the writers’ conference where she received her publishing contract. I remembered that joyful moment—and now I was looking forward to another equally joyful one.

Soon after lunch that Sunday then, I headed down to Wollongong, about a two-hour drive from home. All went well for a while, but then the rain came, followed by heavy fog which blanketed the surrounding bushland and road ahead, so that I could barely see the taillights of the car in front. Then I noticed a sign flashing above the road that was almost illegible in the fog. Eventually, however, I was able to make out what it said:

Use hazard lights in fog. Stay under 70kph.

I slowed down. Perhaps that would be enough and I could do without those hazard lights. But … wait! Where were they anyway? I remembered locating them on my husband’s car, but where were they in my own ancient Ford Fairmont that has done over 260,000 kilometres? After all, I have only been driving it for around twenty-one years! By that point, most other cars had their hazard lights on, so I hunted around, but could not see that red triangle anywhere. Then in a moment of inspiration, I peered behind the steering wheel and found a mysterious, red button. I pressed it—and lo and behold, those hazard lights started flashing!

I reached the launch safely and, by the time I drove home, the fog had largely lifted. But as I reflected on my rather scary experience, I began to suspect God was speaking to me through it. How often has that thick fog settled around me whenever I become over-busy, so that I cannot seem to connect with God easily? How often have I not read or perhaps noticed that big warning sign across my path, reminding me I need to draw close to God again? Indeed, how often have I even deliberately ignored it, thinking I can survive in my own strength?

It’s a dangerous place to be, isn’t it—in either a physical or a spiritual fog? We feel helpless, directionless and adrift. How much we need those hazard lights around us and that strong presence of the Saviour right beside us, strengthening us and showing us the way forward! In a physical fog, one mistake and disaster could happen. In a spiritual fog, we can forget altogether who God is and how God longs to walk with us each day, loving us, guiding us, watching over us.

However dense that fog in our lives might be right now, let’s reach out to God again. And let’s keep our eyes focussed on God’s light that can illuminate even the darkest, foggiest roads ahead.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:5-6

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Embracing the new

I think I have more or less come to grips with how various things work in our new unit. The clothes dryer was no trouble—and I have at last figured out how our oven and grill function. The fridge-freezer we bought to fit the space available has lots of great bells and whistles I hope I understand now. And the same goes for our new air conditioner. I have mastered the art too of using a remote control ‘fob’ for our garage door—and another to let myself into our Village Centre on weekends or after hours. I am beginning to feel quite accomplished.

Recently, however, our two older granddaughters and I decided to try the heated pool and spa in the Centre. That day, it happened that we were the only ones in the pool area—and what fun we had, trying to work out what switch turned on what! Was that one for the lights? Which should we push for the spa? And, most important of all, which one unlocked the door so we could eventually get out?

In the end, we guessed right, although we weren’t game to press one big button in the change room, since it looked distinctly like an alarm. But when I went to swim another day, I decided to risk it. Lo and behold, no one came running—it turned out to be a much-needed heater! All up, I was quite proud of myself.

But then my husband traded in his old car during the recent end-of-financial-year sales. I drove it too at times, but I prefer our eighteen-year-old Ford Fairmont that has clocked up around 250,000 kilometres! However, the car seats for our two younger grandchildren have always been in my husband’s car, so I knew I would need to familiarise myself quickly with his wondrous new vehicle, if I were to take our grandchildren anywhere.

‘Everything’s much the same as in the old car,’ my husband told me with great assurance. ‘Oh—except there’s no hand brake. It’s a foot brake instead—there’s an extra button-type pedal just to the left of the real brake!’

Hmm. I went for a drive—and I think it will take a few more hundred times before I do not grope at all for that usual, old hand brake!

Yes, sometimes I am slower to adapt to new things. Sometimes I want to cling to the old. After all, I argue, it works okay. And, more to the point, I am familiar with it. But these recent experiences with various material possessions have made me wonder if I do the same with the things of God. How often do I ignore some new challenge from God? How often do I refuse to trust God and try a better way? How often do I choose to wallow in the old rather than move on and embrace the new?

Through faith in Jesus Christ, we are made new—we become completely new creations. And as such, we can choose to step out in the Spirit’s strength each day into all the wonderful, new things God has for us to learn and experience.

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! 2 Corinthians 5:17

Are you up for the challenge?

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