For seven years my Ford Ranger pick-up served as the proverbial “work” car.  It got me to the train station and back.  It had a vinyl bench seat, manual transmission and no a/c.  I rarely put anything in the bed of the truck with the exception of four sand bags from Lowe’s during the winter.

It was a used truck that did the job.

It also had a stereo cassette with two knobs (one for volume and one for the tuner).  The tuner was a little thick red line that would crawl across the radio bands.  Hitting the “search” button required listening to the garbled sounds of the intermittent stations on the way to the one that I was looking for.

The Ranger had two “stereo” speakers.  One in each door.  And each of those were only 15 watts.

This of course is where guys differ from the ladies.  We need to have our music.  Preferably crisp with the ability to adjust the treble and bass and every sound wave in between.

This then required a trip to Best Buy.

Now it is also important to know that men really don’t need a “good” reason to go to Best Buy.  Any reason will qualify as a “good” reason.  This is why I started my grocery shopping at Best Buy.  In fact, two of the three basic food groups are available in the check out lines; candy and popcorn.  I put in a request for the third food group; coffee. 

So I wandered over to the stereo aisle and witnessed a wall of sound  devices that looked like Mission Control in Houston.  I didn’t know where to begin.  But it didn’t matter.  There were lots of buttons and car stereo faceplates with blue, red or green LCD displays.  I started pushing them like Will Ferrell in the movie "Elf".  It was magical ... and manly ... 

I pretended to “compare” the quality of the sound between stereos.  After 30 minutes of pressing buttons and watching face plates flip up and down turn in on themselves like the Transformers I had in 5th grade, I decided to purchase one.  And then a set of speakers, of course.

After signing over the six months of pay necessary to have “quality” sound while sitting on the vinyl bench seats of the Ranger, I proceeded home trying to think of a good story to tell Lara.  I mused about how I might fake the receipt with a pencil and eraser much like my 3rd grade report card …

After convincing Lara that she drove the “family” car, which was much nicer and already had “quality” sound (not to mention a/c), I was able to avoid pending lashing I was certain would be unleashed upon close examination of the receipt.

After cutting my finger while installing the theft-proof stereo rack, some jury-rigging of some speaker wire and a “minor” crack in the door panel while snapping the speaker cover back on, I was all set.  The Ranger now had a “respectable” sound system.  I could now take pride in my truck.  I could now drive the 21.3 miles to the train station in style.

And I did.

For five months.

Until I got off the train one evening a few days before Christmas in the middle of the snow falling in keeping with the 3 inches forecasted.  As I walked up to my truck in the dark I noticed that the vinyl bench seat of the Ranger was full of snow.

That’s odd.  I hadn’t rolled my windows down in more than 2 months.

And then I saw it.

The huge cinder block.  Sitting in the middle of the snow on the seat … along with the shattered glass from the passenger side window.

The dash had been ripped out and my “theft-proof” stereo was gone.

That was a cold drive home in freezing snowing night with no window.  I think the wind chill factor reached 47 below….

I had a lot of adventures with that Ranger in the seven years that I had it; including three deer that met the flat front nose and another break-in at the train station a few years later.

I used to think that I was all set.  That my “needs” were met.  I was convinced that I had “arrived” as a result of my “stuff” and my “status”.

My spiritual journey was much the same.  I was pretty convinced that my Jesus-quotient was complete and that I had “just enough” of God to be considered in a meaningful relationship with Him.  I had Him figured out I knew how church should work too.

And then a cinder block was thrown through my neat little spiritual world and my understanding of God was stolen in spite of my anti-theft device (rules and regulations for church).

It was a cold drive home to reconnecting with God on His terms.  It was a humbling journey to accept that I did not have all the answers.  It was chilly to learn that not only was my way of doing church not the only way of doing church but that my way of doing church was based on my terms.

I began to embrace the possibility that God was doing more around me than I was giving Him credit for.  I began to embrace the reality that I should be an instrument of grace to other people rather than a gavel of judgment and condemnation.  I began to understand that what I thought I had figured out (God and His church), I was missing the point.

I have now fully embraced the fact of my own brokenness and insufficiency and that I am not a finished project.  I am now fully open to how I might learn and grow and expand the possibilities of how and where God might use me.  I have accepted the possibility of God doing a work in me and through me...

In spite of me.

I now pray for God to allow me to keep my window broken and be open to Him working in my life and in the life of those around me.

It’s all about grace.

And a trip to Best Buy ...