Charlie handed me the key fob for his Lexus in his driveway and told me to figure out the details.
No pressure.
I slid into the white leather seat and wondered how to start the car. I rolled down the window and asked Charlie that question. I’ve never had a car without an actual key.
“Put your foot on the brake and hit the start button,” Charlie said.
I was just the latest in a long list of people he offered the car (my car is in the shop). A woman in Charlie’s neighborhood got wind of the fact that he lets people use his car and asked if she could drive it to Minneapolis. I think she borrowed it from him again at a later date. A guy in my Friday group has taken it on a trip through Iowa. And yet another one talks about how smoothly the car drives.
Charlie calls it the Jesus car. It’s not his car; it belongs to Christ. And therefore, it’s available to people who need it.
You wouldn’t necessarily expect a loaner to be an upgrade over what you normally drive. But I drive a 2009 Chevy Impala, so most cars are an upgrade. In the Jesus car, I feel like royalty.
The steering wheel automatically retracts when you shut off the engine, then goes right back into place when you start the car again. The car has three buttons that will remember three different seat and steering wheel settings. It has a backup camera with a sensor that beeps when someone is behind you. And the mirrors on both sides of the car flash orange when someone is in your blind spot.
Remember how you felt when you got your first car and went cruising down Main Street? That’s a pretty good description of how I felt pulling out of his driveway last week. Free. Loved. And without a care in the world. Well, other than the huge car repair bill I may end up with this week. But I wasn’t thinking about that.
I’m learning that slowing down and living deeper is about so much more than just intentionally pulling away from the fray. It’s also about learning from a guy like Charlie who models how to use possessions for the kingdom. He takes his hands off and offers them to Christ. And it leaves a lasting impression.
My car has been in the shop for over a week and Charlie hasn’t texted me once to ask about the car. But to be fair, he’s on an extended vacation with his new wife, so I wouldn’t be checking in if I were him either. Even so, Charlie isn’t kidding around about the Jesus car. He tosses you the keys and it belongs to you for a while.
I’ll never be able to offer a Lexus in such a manner to people in need, but hopefully, people will be asking me how to start my Chevy Impala one day.
