Never Trust a Man with a Clean Pickup…
I remember when my stepfather, Lawrence, bought a new truck. He took me and my brother Steve aside and sternly warned us: “Now, this truck has to last a long time. All three of us are going to be driving this truck. I want you boys to be careful when you drive it and keep it clean.”
Thankfully, Steve put the first dent in the truck when he backed into a tree and bent the bumper. Lawrence never yelled at us, but he had a way of reprimanding you that made you feel about five years old. Usually, it was because we acted like five-year-olds.
Because Steve put the first dent in the truck, I didn’t get in as much trouble as when I got it stuck in a pond. It would take me years before I learned four-wheel drive was not the same as amphibious.
Lawrence himself was not immune to tearing up the truck. I was with him when he tried to chase a bull out of a pasture in the truck. He hit a bull hole at thirty miles an hour and tore the front suspension out.
The truck lasted two years. Though it only had 40,000 miles on it when Lawrence traded it for a new model, the salesman said it looked like it had been ridden hard and put up wet.
He bought another truck, and again, Steve and I were told the truck had to last a long time, we had to keep it clean, etc. It wasn’t long before a tree ran out in front of me, and I put a big dent in the side. The bed quickly filled up with assorted tools, cans of WD-40, hoes, shovels, and axes. The dirt in the orange groves migrated to film inside the truck. In two years, this truck was passed down to Richard, the man who worked for us.
We received the same speech when he bought the next new truck. Thankfully, Lawrence was the first one to damage this truck. He was loading his bass boat at a landing, hit the trailer hard, and accidentally knocked the truck into neutral. The truck gracefully rolled backwards while Lawrence watched helplessly from the boat. With a few bubbles, it was gone. Thankfully, I was out of state when this happened, or I’m sure I would have been blamed.
It was about this time that a man came by the barn one day. He was driving a shiny new truck that seemed to repel dirt and mud. When he got out, his shirt and jeans were pressed. I caught a glimpse of the inside of his truck. It was spotless. Richard leaned over to me and said, “Never trust a man with a clean truck. He’s always trying to sell you something.” Sure enough, the man tried to sell Lawrence an insurance policy.
Every truck I’ve owned got dirty. The convenience of throwing something in the bed so it will be there when you need it is too tempting. When my children were small, they did not help keep it clean. I would find mummified gummy worms covered in dirt, lint, and hair. However, the dogs still ate them.
I bought my current truck seven years ago. It was immaculate; it had been owned by a salesman. I told my wife, “I’ve got to keep this truck clean.” That lasted about two weeks.
The dent on the right side happened when I tried to make a turn through a gate that was too narrow. I busted out the cover on the right rear taillight twice (but it still works). The driver’s seat has a big hole in it, but it doesn’t bother me. My toolbox has a layer of grease from a grease tube that busted. I keep a shovel, a hoe, and a pickaxe in the bed of the truck. Right now, I have a sprayer filled with fly spray for the cows, an empty container of herbicide, a gallon of diesel fuel, and about an inch of hay and dirt up under the toolbox. There is mud behind every tire well and some on the hood from where I got bogged down in the pasture last week. I need to run the truck through the wash pretty soon.
Jesus once told the Pharisees they were like whitewashed tombs. Attractive on the outside, full of rotten stuff on the inside. He warned them and us not to pretend like we are perfect, like we have it all together. The scripture says, “No one is righteous, no not one.” Another way to say this is, “No one has it all together, no not one.”
My friend John Ortberg says he wishes we could start worship like they start 12-step group meetings: “Hi, I’m Clay, and I’m a sinner.” Isn’t it strange that to begin our walk with Jesus, we must confess this reality, and then many of us spend energy to create the illusion that we no longer have any flaws? Pride leads to self-righteousness. Self-righteousness creates distance between you and your Heavenly Father.
I think this is what Micah meant when he told us to “…walk humbly with our God.” Admit we are broken. Ask God for grace. Pray to not be led into temptation. Repeat.
My life, like my truck, is broken and dirty. But Jesus and I are working on that. I’m not as broken as I once was. I’ve cleaned up a lot. I still have a ways to go. Don’t we all?