How to (not) repaint a totaled car
This week is on Luke 21:32-36:
Yes, I like the gospel of Luke. It has slightly more geeky detail than the other gospels, plus it sounds a little like my name. People sometimes think my name is Luke, when we're first introduced, and I often secretly let them keep on thinking that, partly because it's the name of the author of this gospel, partly because it reminds me of Luke Skywalker, the great Jedi knight, but mostly because it's unimportant. Some things matter, and some things don't.
In these verses, Jesus has just got done telling people about the sorts of doom and gloom events they can expect to happen at the end of the world. Bloggers do that now, but Jesus was ahead of his time. They're all pretty horrible things, if your focus is your physical life on earth. If you're focused on the spirit, and the eternal big picture, they're actually more of an adventure. In the eternal sense, the ten years you might spend in a Mad Max world, fighting over food and fuel and dodging asteroids would probably seem like the two minutes you spent screaming and digging your talons into the hapless passenger next to you on the roller coaster. People are going to freak out, but they can't see the end like they can on the roller coaster. So Jesus says, "Don't worry. This ride will come to a stop and everything will be OK. I'll still be here, and so will you."
I hate roller coasters. I'm afraid of almost everything anyway, so I don't know why someone would pay to be even more scared. But imagine you were that sort of person, and that you somehow began to believe that the roller coaster ride was everything. The end of the ride would be more terrifying than the ride itself. You would be investing an inordinate amount of effort in trying to make your seat comfortable, trying to find ways to prolong the ride, trying to look good in front of the other passengers, and so on. You might start hoarding money and begging off of the other passengers to help you accumulate more, so that when the carnie's little cabbage-scented hands try to pull you off of the ride at the end, you can simply buy another ticket. In short, you'd act like a jerk to people around you and behave like a complete jackass, just to preserve an illusion. That's what we do when we worry about the things our life needs right now, without keeping the big eternal picture in mind.
Much like our bodies will decay after we die, and then get reborn in the future, the world will do the same thing, as mankind comes to an end. Even in the sense of our lifespan, it effectively does that. How many dead people make investment decisions and enjoy the things of the world? A car is only useful to you until the day you die. Character is eternal. A connection to God is eternal. God himself is eternal. Those are much better investments. When we die, we respawn, like in a video game. When the world dies, our stuff stays dead.
Suppose your car needed a new paint job, thanks to the flock of malevolent birds in your neighbor's tree who sit around eating caustic berries and using the hood for target practice, while you sleep. Suppose a meteor came out of the sky, obliterating the birds in a streak of fire (yesss!) and then totaling your car (noooo!). As the car is being towed to the junk yard, is that a good time to get it repainted? Being attached to this present world, which is getting towed to the junkyard, is exactly like repainting that condemned car. If it comes to a choice between spending your efforts on something meaningful, or sinking them into something which is going to get crushed and turned into scrap, spend them on something meaningful.
You're probably totally enjoying the ride, or being scared witless, but there is something beyond that. You probably always wanted to get that car painted, but is it really that important, given where it's going? Jesus tells us to keep our eyes open, and be ready for the ride to end. He tells us not to squander the best days of our life on crap that doesn't matter. That's really important advice. We want to be ready for eternity, not caught off guard. We want to be improved and enhanced, not drained and drugged by meaningless garbage. If you're only looking at the world around you, you might not know the difference.
"I tell you the truth, this generation will certainly not pass away until all these things have happened. Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.
"Be careful, or your hearts will be weighed down with dissipation, drunkenness and the anxieties of life, and that day will close on you unexpectedly like a trap. For it will come upon all those who live on the face of the whole earth. Be always on the watch, and pray that you may be able to escape all that is about to happen, and that you may be able to stand before the Son of Man."
Yes, I like the gospel of Luke. It has slightly more geeky detail than the other gospels, plus it sounds a little like my name. People sometimes think my name is Luke, when we're first introduced, and I often secretly let them keep on thinking that, partly because it's the name of the author of this gospel, partly because it reminds me of Luke Skywalker, the great Jedi knight, but mostly because it's unimportant. Some things matter, and some things don't.
In these verses, Jesus has just got done telling people about the sorts of doom and gloom events they can expect to happen at the end of the world. Bloggers do that now, but Jesus was ahead of his time. They're all pretty horrible things, if your focus is your physical life on earth. If you're focused on the spirit, and the eternal big picture, they're actually more of an adventure. In the eternal sense, the ten years you might spend in a Mad Max world, fighting over food and fuel and dodging asteroids would probably seem like the two minutes you spent screaming and digging your talons into the hapless passenger next to you on the roller coaster. People are going to freak out, but they can't see the end like they can on the roller coaster. So Jesus says, "Don't worry. This ride will come to a stop and everything will be OK. I'll still be here, and so will you."
I hate roller coasters. I'm afraid of almost everything anyway, so I don't know why someone would pay to be even more scared. But imagine you were that sort of person, and that you somehow began to believe that the roller coaster ride was everything. The end of the ride would be more terrifying than the ride itself. You would be investing an inordinate amount of effort in trying to make your seat comfortable, trying to find ways to prolong the ride, trying to look good in front of the other passengers, and so on. You might start hoarding money and begging off of the other passengers to help you accumulate more, so that when the carnie's little cabbage-scented hands try to pull you off of the ride at the end, you can simply buy another ticket. In short, you'd act like a jerk to people around you and behave like a complete jackass, just to preserve an illusion. That's what we do when we worry about the things our life needs right now, without keeping the big eternal picture in mind.
Much like our bodies will decay after we die, and then get reborn in the future, the world will do the same thing, as mankind comes to an end. Even in the sense of our lifespan, it effectively does that. How many dead people make investment decisions and enjoy the things of the world? A car is only useful to you until the day you die. Character is eternal. A connection to God is eternal. God himself is eternal. Those are much better investments. When we die, we respawn, like in a video game. When the world dies, our stuff stays dead.
Suppose your car needed a new paint job, thanks to the flock of malevolent birds in your neighbor's tree who sit around eating caustic berries and using the hood for target practice, while you sleep. Suppose a meteor came out of the sky, obliterating the birds in a streak of fire (yesss!) and then totaling your car (noooo!). As the car is being towed to the junk yard, is that a good time to get it repainted? Being attached to this present world, which is getting towed to the junkyard, is exactly like repainting that condemned car. If it comes to a choice between spending your efforts on something meaningful, or sinking them into something which is going to get crushed and turned into scrap, spend them on something meaningful.
You're probably totally enjoying the ride, or being scared witless, but there is something beyond that. You probably always wanted to get that car painted, but is it really that important, given where it's going? Jesus tells us to keep our eyes open, and be ready for the ride to end. He tells us not to squander the best days of our life on crap that doesn't matter. That's really important advice. We want to be ready for eternity, not caught off guard. We want to be improved and enhanced, not drained and drugged by meaningless garbage. If you're only looking at the world around you, you might not know the difference.
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