A long, long time ago, my car started squeaking whenever I pressed down on the brakes. So I did what anyone with a deep aversion to car troubles would do. I pretended like everything was OK and kept right on driving.
As the months went
by, that nagging little voice of wisdom kept pestering me and I
reached the point where I knew it was just about time to do something
about the squeaking (and the shaking, by this time, especially as I pressed on my brakes going down hill.) Around this time, I was learning about finances
in my discipleship group. Figuring out what God has to say about
money, provision, blessing, stewardship, etc. What I learned was
convicting and it really challenged my perspective. I had sort of
forgotten that God wants to provide for my needs. Without realizing
it, I had adopted a self-sufficient mindset. So I thought I might
start including God in that area of my life. I was beginning to
consider praying for specific things to see what He would do. Sort
of dipping my toes in the water, so to speak. Not much expectation.
Not much risk. It wasn't that I didn't believe God could answer
specific prayers. I just didn't think my requests were all that
important.
Well, I thought about the whole brakes situation and I decided it might be a good opportunity to pray a specific
prayer. And I gave it a good try. But I couldn't ask God for the
money. I just couldn't do it. I don't think it's wrong to ask God
for money, but I couldn't quite get past the belief system of my
brakes = my problem. There is one thing, one specific thing, I
did ask him for, though. And I'll tell you what that was later.
But first I
will tell you that within about two weeks of thinking about these financial things in a new way, out of the clear blue sky, I received a check in
the mail for $400. It wasn't exactly out of the clear blue sky. It
was from a person, a very generous person who decided to bless me
because God had blessed her. So now I had the money I needed to get
my brakes fixed. What I still did not have was the resolve to
overcome my deep aversion to car troubles and actually go to a
mechanic.
About a week after receiving the check, I was at work. It
was a Friday. A happy Friday. My boss gave me a bread maker, out of
the clear blue sky. Just kidding. It was out of her garage,
actually. But it made my day. I told her she increased my chances
of finding true love with that gift. What guy doesn't like a girl who
can bake her own bread, right? Then, as I left work that Friday on
my way to a graduation party, bread maker in tow, I heard a new,
unpleasant sound coming from my car. That sound was the motivation I
needed to overcome my aforementioned aversion. Images of metal
scraping against metal filled my vision. Within a short time, I had
coordinated a stop to the mechanic the following day on the way to
the beach, where a couple friends and I had planned to spend our
Saturday. It was slated to work out perfectly. The mechanic was on our way to the beach.
We were on our way to the beach. I'd drop off my car on the way there and pick it up on our way back. Simple.
Later, as I was driving
home from the party, anxious about the noises coming from my car but
grateful that everything had worked out so well, I remembered
something. My prayer. The one request I was bold enough to present
to my Father. In my quiet time journal, referring to the mechanic, I
wrote, "Will you give me a friend to go with me?" Well, He
gave me two. My two friends who just so happened to have invited me
earlier in the week to go with them to the beach on Saturday. I felt
loved by God. I felt relieved that my car would no longer convulse
every time I slowed down.
Everything went according to plan. I picked up my car on our way back from
the OC and was quite pleased to discover the convulsing and squeaking was gone!
The new, unpleasant sound, however, remained. So, true to form, I
solved the problem the way you'd expect. I turned up my music
louder. But the noise was like a gnat flying around my face. Hard
as I tried, I couldn't pretend it away.
Fast forward to last week, due
to an uncooperative network, I left work early. I had no excuses.
Back to the mechanic I went to compliment him on how nicely he fixed
my brakes and to tell him the bad sound hadn't gone away. I sat in the
shop while first one, then both of the mechanics drove my car
around to try to diagnose the mysterious problem. Well, diagnose it,
they did. You'll never guess what they discovered.
Apparently, the
bread maker I had stuffed on the floor of my backseat a couple
Fridays earlier was rattling around from where it sat. Now, there are
two things you can take away from this story. Firstly, I am the kind
of girl who thinks very bad things are happening to her car when, in
fact, it is just a medium-sized kitchen appliance jostling about in her backseat (I give you permission to use this against me as you see fit.) And secondly, God used that bread maker to answer my prayer. If it hadn't rattled in my ear that Friday, convincing me that
my brakes were just shy of leading me and my Mazda to ruin, I
wouldn't have made such immediate plans to get them fixed and I
wouldn't have gone to the mechanic with not just one, but two
friends.
From the answer to the prayer I couldn't pray to the answer
that exceeded the prayer I did pray, God took care of me. He wove a
beautifully tangled web of blessing and provision through brakes and
a bread maker. "'Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus, throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen" Ephesians 3:20-21.
This was so good.
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