One day while walking though a wrecking yard, I began to survey the years and years of neglect and abuse. All of these cars were once somebody’s pride and joy, now rotting away in a field with little hope of restoration. My eyes caught a 1967 Plymouth GTX, sitting on its floorboards, with major areas of rust. ‘What a machine,’ I thought, ‘who’s history is typical of such a car.'
Purchased right off the showroom floor, a young husband explains to his wife that this is really is a practical car, compared to some of the other models they offered. It had room for the “future” kids and it ran smooth.
The 440 cubic inches under the hood meant nothing more than the fact that it had the power to climb up steep hills if need be (surely the wife wouldn’t want to be stuck on an incline with young ones eager to get to church). The 4-speed transmission would certainly help with gas mileage when on vacation, and the dual scooped hood was there so dad could have a little fun (I mean, c’mon: this is a real sacrifice…).
The wife is eventually convinced that the car needs to be purchased, the money changes hands, and the GTX rumbles down the road. It is taken home where it is quickly admired by the neighbors.
As the years go by the Plymouth serves its family well. It’s reliable, it gets everyone to work (as well as getting the kids to school), and dad has some fun in it on Saturday nights. But is doesn’t seem long until the car is considered “old”, and with soaring inflation and especially gas prices, it becomes an ‘impractical form of transportation.’
Although it was a great automobile that served its owners well 10 years and never let them down, the Plymouth is sold to a neighbor’s teenager son for a tenth of the original price. ‘Some quick changes are in order,’ thought the teenager.
A set of mag wheels were installed and the rear end of the car was lifted up in order to make room for some unusually large tires. A cheap red paint job was applied over the original black paint.
The exhaust was replaced and the car was now heard coming from blocks away. Whereas before, the neighbors admired it, now they came out to take notice of new dings and dents it had acquired. It became the eye sore of the neighborhood, and had gained a reputation as a real terror on the local streets.
Eventually, all this hard abuse on the GTX would take its toll, and the once strong motor began to tire and eventually died. This owner grew from a teenager to a young man, and his interest in the car soon faded, and he gave the car to his younger brother who had showed an interest in it.
The younger brother had BIG plans for the now classic musclecar (which didn’t look like it at the time). He would pull the motor, have it rebuilt, go through the entire drive train, then have a good body shop repair every panel on the car and paint it black once again.
He would do this as soon as time and money permitted, but until then the car would be fine parked in the backyard, where it could brave the elements for a few short months. Months, however, turn into years, and simple bodywork turned to a major rust repair. The hood was even sold to a passer-by who noticed it in the backyard. The GTX became such a major project that the $500.00 that it could be sold to the wrecking yard for, sounded like a fair deal.
So here it is: the motor and tranny are gone, the interior is completely gutted and the rust is rampant. But if someone had the time, the resources, and the desire, it could be made like new once again, and become the desirable classic car that it was.
The same goes for that Olds 442 a couple isles away, or about that Mercury Cyclone that needs just a little attention and new front clip? And look at that VW Thing: remember those?
How about an old 50’s convertible: wouldn’t that be a cool cruiser? Climbing on top of the roof of an old pickup, its fun to imagine all these cars in their original form, but who has the resources or cares enough about a bunch of old neglected cars?
Some of mans greatest creations, these cars, yet rotting away in places like this all across the country.
Perhaps you are like an old car, your life having been something like the Plymouth GTX. You’ve worked hard and have always been reliable, but yet you are still just getting older. Could it be that you are like a hot rod, living life in the fast lane? The fast lane, yes, it seems short and sweet at first, but as time goes on it gets tougher and tougher to master.
Maybe, in your case this had led you down street that you wish you had never traveled. Then again, you may be like the GTX as it now sits: neglected and beaten from the past, stamp-set in the present, and in need of a total restoration.
Just like a car, we people eventually die, too. But as you sit in life’s wrecking yard, who cares enough about you to help, or even could help if they wanted to? Where are the resources, what will they cost? Is there really any hope? Who can escape time and death anyway?
There is one person who can help, and His name is Jesus. Jesus is the God-man sent to earth, who views your spiritual wrecking yard with the time, the resources and the desire to restore you. Restore you back to what you were created to be. Like a classic car that’s in dire need of repair, you too can shine as if sin never had never touched your life.
There is no other name under heaven which man might be saved…(Acts 4:12)
There is no other way in which you truly can be restored…(I Cor. 3:11)
Jesus can save you from the rust and stain of sin, and from the penalty of sin…(Rom. 6:23)
This takes a willingness on your part to let him restore you… (Rev 3:20)
Do not swerve
to the right or the left,
keep your foot from evil.