Carwash Worries

whumpwhumpwhumpwhumpWHUMPWHUMP

The yellow, wet carwash Muppet-things were beating the tar out of the side mirrors I'd been looking at since I was 16. When they finally took a break to regroup, I could hear a solitary drip-drip-drip from inside my passenger's door.

Water dripping down inside the door would fry the window's gear, putting another of my windows out of commission. If the Muppets made another pass, I'd probably lose a mirror. That would be super pricey to replace. Would it be worth it? What if the water spraying the undercarriage caused something to give up? or blow up? With 165,000 miles under her twice-replaced belt, my green Honda Civic, Eirey, may be approaching the tollbooth that leads to the great highway in the sky. If she died, I'd have to buy a new car. That'd be expensive. My job didn't play me enough to be laying down cash for a new car and making payments. In fact, I could lose my job and then I'd have to move in with Mom and Dad and I'd never be a real man.

I'd be that guy who's in his mid-thirties, telling you about his big plan that clearly would launch him into successful, independent adulthood, while you send that eye-signal to your spouse that says "I know, it's a shame, but we can't help him. Meet you at the car."

As I sat there in a Wisconsin carwash, listening to my door going drip-drip and wondering how I'd get to Mom and Dad's without a car, it clicked.

Worry is the opposite of Faith. Worry is the realization that relying on my own strength will not solve life's dripping doors. Faith is the belief that God has better solutions than me and will provide them as--and when--needed.

If my door broke, He can provide a way for me to fix it. If I need a car, He can arrange for a Dodge Ram to get stuck in the bush. Or Something. I don't know. He does. That's why I need to stop worrying about how my solutions don't measure up--because God's solutions to my problems far surpass anything I can come up with.

Prior to the carwash, I'd spent a week focusing on having faith in the face of what seem unpleasant difficulties. As a Kansas-sized fan blew the water droplets off Eirey's hood, I realized that worry and faith can't coexist in me. If I'm chewing the former, I'm not trusting the latter.

Addendum:
As I wrote this, I realized that I'm a grander-scheme-of-things Eirey. Getting the mud Muppet-whipped off you can be scary and doesn't feel good. But if you let all that Midwestern winter salt corrode your soul, you'll face a serious breakdown at some point. It's better to go through the carwash and have faith that God will get you through, rather than fret over your own bumbling attempts not doing the trick.



Let faith wash worry off you, and get back on the road.