My parents next door neighbor, Bill Del Nero, aka Willie, owned a service station with his brother Frank in the 60's and 70's. Notice I said service, not gas station, as these neighborhood stations not only provided gas, but had service bays to keep your car greased and oiled, to diagnose the noises you heard, and to do tune-ups. And a hangout for other gear heads on Saturday mornings. Work was performed on a personal basis, and it seemed everyone had one that they frequented. The Del Neros had a Gulf station, and they did pump a lot of gas, along with checking tire pressures, the oil, and washing the windshield.
One Sunday morning Willie called my dad. His Sunday afternoon guy would be out for a few hours, could I fill in from noon to 5? Sure, I was a freshman in high school, got mostly A's and B's,except for Miss Culhane, and was a starter on the basketball team. Plus it paid $10 for five hours of work. In this era of nickel candy bars, Twinkies for a nickel, comics for twelve cents, and Mad magazine for 35 cents-Cheap, I could live like a millionaire. And with no car or girlfriend, my money would be my own. Of course-and I was out the door.
Now a funny thing about experience is that you can't teach it. I had never pumped gas before, although I had often gotten 25 cents worth for my dad's mower, and had watched as my parents ordered $2 worth from the attendant. But never saw the oil checked-they were suspicious because pump jockeys were notorious for short sticking, and I think I might have seen him once check the air. And the closer I got to the service station, the more I realized I wasn't in ninth grade, and my grades didn't matter here. But the guy who was leaving was cool, gave me the key to the register, and he was off. Leaving me alone-I mean ALONE, to run the place. And it seems the bell signaling someone in the drive never stopped ringing. Fortunately all was done on a cash basis, but learning which side the filler was on, learning how to not have a digit removed from the license plate springing back on the filler located behind it, and washing the windows was easy. I even managed to check the oil on a few cars, all OK. But some dude threw me a curve when he asked me to check his trans fluid. DUH! So I pulled the dipstick by the trans-good thinking, and checked it like I did the oil. Full, he was ready to go, paid, and was off. It was later when my tortuous shift was over that I read in one of the magazines laying around you do it with the car running, and that there are two types. So I worried for two days, that this guy's tranny would blow up because I hadn't checked it right.
Willie paid the $10, thanked me and said I had done a good job. But for a few days I was afraid for a knock on the door from him. "There's a guy here whose transmission blew up from lack of fluid-he said you had checked it and it was OK." And there would go my $10, my reputation, and my chance to do it again. But I still had my A's and B's, and was a starter on the basketball team. And still had Miss Culhane for English.
Jesus tells us in Luke of some fisherman, who after fishing all night, and catching nothing, washed their nets and were going home-hungry and empty netted. When He suggested they throw their nets off the right side, they reluctantly did, and found them filled to overflowing-in fact it took three boats to take in the catch. But He was preparing these men-His disciples for catching something else, to be fishers of men. And they needed His training, for all the previous experience would not work with souls-only soles. And without the spirit guiding them, they would accomplish nothing. Experiences you can't teach, they must be experienced! But they had to follow the spirit-Jesus to do things they had never done before, and this took faith, and commitment. No more stories about the one that got away, or sleeping in on Sundays. It was personal with them, and their past did not prepare them for where they were going, and going to do. Like these fisherman, we too get stuck in a religion, when we need a relationship. Filling a pew, and stinking it up is a religion, where Jesus offers us a relationship. And it takes participation on our part, and choices to make. You say "I've been healthy all my life, I can't have cancer. We've been married 30 years, she can't leave me. I've worked here for 20 years, and am a manager, they can't let me go." Or "I've been a member of this church since I was a kid, I know all about God, even taught Sunday school. I don't need this Jesus thing." And you would be wrong! For experience doesn't prepare us for failure, or how to handle situations of the heart. You need to see the creator, and Jesus is the only way to His father! He can and will take you through cancer-restore a rocky marriage, and take care of you when you are jobless. And He wants to do it-personally. And like the fisherman, will show you the way-but only if you listen and trust Him.
Willie trusted me, and I hope I didn't let him down. Today let down your nets, let Jesus fill them, and watch as you do things, go places, and experience life like you never knew possible. A full service God in a self service world. I would call that a bargain.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com
