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The Desires of you Heart
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I’m guessing that, if you are a car person, you can identify with me in this story.
There have been many vehicles that I’ve liked, many that I wanted, some that I
even obsessed about. Some I’ve gone to great efforts to acquire. For several I
signed on that dotted line and obligated myself into the distant future so that I
could have them. It could be easily said that I’ve “desired” many cars, trucks, and
motorcycles.
But only once did I have that kind of slow, building desire that lasted for years and
occupied my thoughts for probably hundreds of hours. It wasn’t for some wild exotic,
or classic hot rod, or vintage restoration. But it was for something just out of my grasp.
I wanted a Suburban.
I first drove a basic, utilitarian Suburban in 1979 for one of my jobs. I liked the carrying
capacity that kept things secure and out of the weather. But in 1985 I was given a ride
in a plush, fully optioned “Burb” and thought to myself, “This is cool!”
Over time I would daydream and “sell myself” on what kind of a Suburban I should have.
It needed to have the third seat so we could drive more kids for the church youth group.
(Oh, that’s good rationalization!). And it needed to have four-wheel drive because we
lived in snow country. (Well, sure, I had a 4x4 pickup, but it was a beater). And it should
be a ¾ ton with the tow package in case I ever got another race car. (Just thinking ahead,
you understand). And it must be red with gray interior because, well, because I liked that
color Suburban the best.
Over the years, as I devised this mental build sheet for my truck, I couldn’t decide on the
back end. Which would I find less objectionable, the lift-over challenge of the tailgate or
the rearview obstruction of the cargo doors? The tailgate could come in handy as a pit
workbench for the fantasy race car, but the loading convenience of the door won out in the
mental debate.
Of course this was useless exercise. I was working for a ministry, just scraping by, and could
barely keep my ’69 Chevy and ’72 pickup on the road. Then one day, in May ’89, I saw “my
Suburban” driving down the road. It was exactly the way I had desired it, down to that last
detail.
It turns out I know the guy driving it. “Hey Tom, I sure like your new truck!” “Thanks, I love
it!” “Let me know when you want to sell it, I want first shot at it.” And every few months our
paths would cross and I would remind Tom to give me the first opportunity for the truck.
Three years later I learned the Tom didn’t own the truck but had leased it. He had gone for
the lowest payments and was so far upside-down on the mileage that he couldn’t afford to turn
it in. He renewed the lease for another thirty-six months.
April, 1995, Tom’s second lease was coming to a close and he was in a financial bind. Could I
take the truck off his hands for the cost of the buy-out? Hmm, well, by selling one of our cars
(okay, it was my wife’s car) and a 90-day loan from my in-laws we were able to pull it off.
Today the Suburban is 13 years old we still love it.
However, when I think of how much time my mind dwelt on Suburbans from 1979 until 1995,
I’m embarrassed by that level of desire for something so temporal. In I Corinthians 12:31a the
Bible says, “But eagerly desire the greater gifts.”(NIV)
Lord, help me to desire more of you and your gifts. Help me to fill my mind with thoughts of you.
I so desire to spend an eternity in fellowship with you. Help me with my thoughts, Lord God.
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