Wednesday, October 19, 2016

the ultimate driving machine is not a BMW



















My Dad, he not the car person, bought his first BMW, a 1969 1600, the smaller engined 2002 after reading it was one of the ten best cars in the world.  He wasn’t looking for performance, but longevity, and it was a big step up from his 1963 Bug.  Back when BMW was an unknown, “British what?” was often the question asked when he told others what he bought, and BMW owners would respectfully flash their lights at each other.  A far cry from the yuppie standard of today, they were thought peculiar, but offered great performance, at a semi-reasonable price, you could buy a Camaro for the same money, and all my friends knew what they were.  But in 1972 after getting my license, he sold it to me for the trade in value against his knew 2002, all of $1900!  And I can say my first car was a 1969 Turf/green BMW.  No yuppie then and not one now, it was about performance, and R&T, CD, and MT became the guides for parts, accessories, jackets, and anything else that said BMW on it.  The sports car guys knew what I had, and that was enough, even if the rank and file didn’t.  And one quick ride through the curves, the sound of the engine, and German engineering made them believers.  Yes we were thought of as strange, normal can be so boring, my first and last BMW...
Now BMW dealerships were few and far between, so we frequented Foreign Car Repair Shops, with owners named Bruno, Hans, Dieter, and Wolf.  Men who loved cars,and had us as a captive audience.  Although Markham Motors had sold my Dad both his cars new, he was too far away in Bernardsville, his shop an old livery stable, so we visited Continental Motors, or the new, first BMW only dealership we ever heard of, JMK Motors.  New and bright, but plain as were the cars, all conversation was interpreted by one of the owners, whose English was not much better than my German.  But trust, exclusive dealership, and location made it the go to place.  The world of BMW was changing, Max Hoffman who originally imported them and put them on the map had given way to BMW of North America, a factory importer, and the customer base was changing.  As you will see.....
I was sitting in the waiting room getting an oil change, and looking at the pictures in the German magazines, all in German of course.  A young girl and her mother were across from me, and the girl had been crying loudly when I entered.  She quickly composed herself, probably embarrassed, and in a few minutes started up again.  The loud sobs, the tears, the temper tantrum about to explode, I wanted out, but my car wasn’t ready.  I tried to look away, but her mother made eye contact with me, and told me “I don’t know what to do, we bought her this car for her birthday and she doesn’t want it.”  Didn’t want it, how many jobs and paper routes did I have just to earn the money to buy one, and she had one given to her, and she didn’t like it?  And then the daughter cried out “Mother I told you I wanted the blue one, why didn’t you listen?  I hate the red one!”  Hey lady, trade you a respectful son for your piece of trash daughter, if you throw in the car.  Red will do just fine.  And my first taste of what BMW would become, a far cry from the driver’s car it was to the yuppie overpriced semi-status symbol of today.  My BMW is long gone, but I can still see that wretched daughter throwing a fit, pity the fool that marries her.  Wanna bet she has a purse dog?  Or should be one?
Perhaps the saddest statement here is she didn’t appreciate what she was given.  She only knew what she thought she wanted, and would be miserable either way.  A lesson I have seen others live through.  Whether it be cars, motorcycles, I know guys who trade every year for a few more horsepower, their low mileage trade in a great bargain for the next person, and still don’t enjoy it, looking for what is coming next year.  Unsatisfied, more concerned by what their peers think, they are miserable, and never can get enough, or at least what they think they want.  They never look behind them, and see the trail of debris they leave, including the values they leave their kids. 
When I first entered ministry, I sought advice from those in it, and found two competing views.  One the church based, or religion based told me to establish a base, i.e. income from donations before I start.  It only makes sense.  But the one I chose to follow was from men who followed God, and were led by his spirit, “don’t give your vision to the church, they will try to control you and take it away.”  And truer words were never spoken.  So I prayed, and God promised me manna for my garage, my refrigerator, and my mortgage.  No budget for ministry, no special offering, he would provide, and I wouldn’t have to ask, for he gives good gifts, and if I asked it wouldn’t be a gift.  Try that one on organized religion....
But he reminded me of Paul, who rarely ever took donations, stayed up late making tents so he could support himself and not be a burden to others. Nor dependent on them, for whoever feeds you also has power over you, and he had all the power from God he would ever need.  And would do this voluntarily....as his heart led him to do, and set an example for me. 
I have come to trust God because he is trustworthy, dependable, knows my needs, and takes care of me in love.  I have never asked for anything for the ministry, and yet he meets all our needs, surprising us all along the way.  Last night I was reminded of how he stretches our small incomes for his glory, as when the Dustin Arms pantry was bare, I had some money I had saved for awhile for just such an occasion.  And that was the occasion, and when I gave it I said “watch Jesus multiply it,”  I had seen it before.  Last night, a month later, I was shown an accounting of how the money was spent, and how God had multiplied it many times over.  It seems that trusting God was the best investment, and after many trips to the market, $20 still remained, enough to buy a man sheets and a pillow.  A big deal if you haven’t any, and we both marveled at what the Lord had done.  He truly is Jehovah Jireh, our provider.  A lesson from Paul, I hadn’t realized I had been taught, sometimes the day to day life and finances overwhelm me, but they don’t Jesus.  If he could pull a coin from the mouth of a fish, if he could feed 5000 with no money, if he could meet all my needs according to his riches and glory, why would he not do it for me?  Or you?
And so the doxology tells us to “praise God from whom all blessings flow,”  and I do.  Manna from heaven, when we need it.  Manna which means what is it?  I can tell you it is a who, and love from a father who loves his children.  Who takes joy in blessing them, and who desires they minister as they go, being a living gospel about his son.  Is his love included in your budget?  Many cars have come and gone in my life.  I even spent a good part of my career in automotive service, and the lesson learned that day from that spoiled brat has stuck with me.  That day I didn’t know it, but I learned appreciation for what I have, and also for what I don’t have.  Her greed and selfishness was her ultimate driving machine, driving her away from God, and never letting her enjoy the blessings.  I rather boast of Jesus as my ultimate driving machine, whose spirit drives me to see things, do things, and share things impossible without him.  His spirit drives me to love, forgive, to share, minister, and not beg for money.  He takes care of it all.  And I have an appreciation of what he gave up so I can live.  No car can do that, no matter what color.  Paul knew it wasn’t about money, but meeting needs, the basis of ministry, seeing a need and meeting it.  He would rather do without than become a burden, that is love.  That is Jesus in action.  That is putting feet to your faith, that is trusting God.  That is the parable of the two BMW’s, and why BMW is not the ultimate driving machine, and why Jesus is. 
Like scripture says, “praise God from whom all blessings flow...”  The gospel of Jesus Christ, simple so I can get it, free so I can afford it.    If only my Dad knew what he started that day....
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com