Rusted To Righteous

People spend massive amounts of money to restore classic cars. I’ve watched shows where buyers have spent what seemed like a fortune for an old vehicle. Some of the most expensive cars are the ones that weren’t produced in mass quantity. So if there were only 500 made, the car, even all rusted out, often cost more than it did brand new. In this popular hobby, rarity equals value. So with that in mind, I can’t help but feel special. I knew God had paid an amount for me that seemed outrageous, but why? Like the car that to the naked eye looks like junkyard material, and yet to the collector is worth millions. I was junkyard material to a lot of people, but God saw the value. You see, he knows that I wasn’t made in mass quantity. There weren’t even only 500 made. There was only one. I’m the only original Christopher Taylor.

I’m currently in this fortress of a shop in the care and ownership of God. When we hear the word restoration, we usually think of the historic home that is now new and marvelous, or the car that is taken to all the shows for everyone to drool over. Restoration sounds like such a beautiful thing, which it is, but the process isn’t as easy or painless as I’d thought it might be. I guess I figured that since I still run, the process would be simple. Clean me up, paint me, and change my oil so I can go another 3,000 miles while looking good. My thoughts were, if I can just pass the inspection I’ll be all right. Boy was I wrong. When I came into the shop, I was completely taken apart. All the after-market parts were taken away and I was stripped to nothing. Even the parts I thought were ok, and parts I thought were useful added features were removed from me. Then God revealed to me that I had some cracks in my frame. Things were out of line, which explained why I so often went off the road, which damaged me even further. My transmission was damaged from overloading and pulling a trailer full of baggage. The consistent high speeds had burned up my motor and anything that required maintenance had been utterly neglected. Even my ability to play music was gone. My radio had been stuck on an AM news station with constant reports of the other successful cars, but never a mention of me unless it was negative. Now the only voice I hear is God’s. The great designer and mechanic himself. He’s filled me with words of worth. He affirmed to me that this process will be worth it.

Everything has to be emptied to be refilled. Cracks have to be welded, which is extremely hot and uncomfortable, even to others who are close to the sparks. The sanding down is painful and required endurance, even when I feel I’m being rubbed the wrong way. He told me, “The better the sanding job, the more things will roll right off your back!” He’s also had to rewire me. I’d gotten some things crossed. Some wired had been spliced and others were feeding electricity to dangerous places that could have fried me or someone else. He gutted my interior. I had no idea how stained and ugly it had become. It makes sense though with all of the things I’d allowed inside that should never be allowed inside a vehicle. He removed the masking smell of the paper pine tree hanging from my rear-view mirror, which was the only clean part of my car since I was always looking back at my past.
After a lot of work, I’m brand new again. I’m amazed when I look in the shop mirror. “Everything’s new”, God said to me proudly as he got out his trusty hand held mirror to show me all of the things he’d done. It’s absolutely incredible the work that God can do! No one else can do it. I’m so glad I stayed in the shop to let him finish the work he started. If I had pulled out during the difficult times, I would have never dreamed this was possible. Now I’m complete and lacking nothing.

Then a chill ran all over me as God circled around me breathing and polishing me so that he could see his reflection. He breathed on my windshield and wiped his hand across the glass to reveal the wonderful things in front of me. He said, “You are my workmanship, my work of art and a masterpiece. My fingerprints are on every part of you. I’m going to drive you places you’ve only dreamed of and show you unimaginable things. Some of the places we’re going may frighten you at first, but fear not. You see I, your builder, alone know what you’re capable of, and have I got some surprises in store for you!”

When He knocks on your door
Let Him inside
He’s got the key
But He’ll let you decide

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