Still breaking her down

It's been a while since I posted, so I thought I let you in on what's going on with the car.  I hoisted it up on jacks so that I could get a better look underneath and so that I could also have it at a better working height.  I removed the bumper, tail light assemblies, windshield, and steering column.  I still have the front grill to take off, and then its on to stripping.

I had a week of grad classes, and a guy in there with me is restoring an old VW Beetle.  He told me that I should strip the car instead of sanding it down because it would give a smoother surface for painting.  I said no thanks, but then I realized that I didn't want 200 lbs of pink dust in my garage from sanding the paint off.  I have the stripper, which is used for aircraft, sitting in there waiting to be opened up.  I am now hesitant to start that project as I fear that stripping it will cause the metal to develop surface rust due to the acids involved.  Since I don't plan on priming it anytime soon, I really don't want to strip it just so that it forms rust.  On the other hand, for me to be able to find any other rust patches I have to take the paint off.

Taking the car apart has been very therapeutic.  There is so much fun in discovering how the car was put together, and even finding traces of original paint and parts that haven't been touched in fifty years.  I am so excited to keep working on this car, as I know I can restore it to its original (if not better than) glory.  Until the end, though, I will enjoy the work and toil.  It is hard to even call this work toil.

Our preacher believes that in heaven, all of our inventions from and for this world will burn up.  All that we will be left with is God's creation.  I completely disagree.  I hate gardening and farming.  Those things are difficult and don't bring me any joy.  That is why our front yard is covered in weeds and our garden has no vegetables growing in it.  On the other hand, building this car has the type of work that seems redeemed to me.  Most people hate their jobs, some don't.  Some find joy in what they do, and their work fills them up.  That is essentially what our work in heaven will be.  I don't think we will only be tending to the garden, but me and a bunch of nerdy car nuts will work in God's garage.  We will have our own projects and work on each others together.  God will stop by and help me rebuild a transmission or put bigger valve seats in my head.  Ayrton Senna will test drive my car and let me know where I went wrong with the suspension while at the same time having just blitzed the lap record in heaven.  Then, Colin McCrae will take it off road and tell me it's perfect.

Breaking her down

So I've started.  I took out the interior, or what was left of it.  From there I got a good look at the massive holes in the floor.  I was going to attempt to patch the floor, but now I know that that we take too much time and cost just as much as buying a new floor pan.

Apart from being terrified form the floor boards, it seems that there are several surprises under the paint.  I started sanding off the paint and have found a few areas that rusted through and were patched with Bondo. (which is a no-no)  I found a few dents on the door, but nothing too major there, and I found that you shouldn't use the actual sand disk for a grinder as it will rub away the metal itself.  But that is nothing a little filler can't take care of before I paint.  What I am left with right now is a front fender and driver's side door that is stripped of its paint and looking shiny and new.  I also have a huge cloud of pink dust (which comes from the cream and red paint) in the garage and about an inch of it on the floor and covering the car.

Working to save this car makes me think about how we attempt to "save" people.  We usually tell them about Jesus and Hell hoping that they will break down and want to choose Jesus over Hell.  Then we get them baptized and be done with them.  Being "saved" is much more difficult than that though.  Jesus talked about carrying your cross and dying to yourself in order to follow him.  I don't think getting wet was what he had in mind.  I also don't think he meant for us to take membership in the Kingdom of Heaven so lightly as we have over the past 2k years.  Like this car, people need work done to them.  We may not be the ones stripping them, but we should help guide them along with the Father to be stripped clean of the facades that they have been putting on since birth.  Underneath you may find holes or rust or maybe some cheap filler, but in order to put on a clean coat, you must strip them down and patch them up.  So what does this entail for us on a day-to-day basis.  Maybe we don't rush salvation, but wrestle with it ourselves and help others wrestle with it as well.  Maybe we realize that it isn't a quick fix or cheap, but takes us giving up ourselves and realizing that believing in Jesus won't get sin out of our lives immediately.  Instead, we must be sanded down so that we, like Jesus, might fulfill the Law so that the world might see who God is and what can happen in the Kingdom of Heaven.

The Beginning

So I bought a fixer-upper.  Usually when people do this they are talking about houses.  I, on the other hand, bought a car that is a fixer-upper.  Calling it a fixer-upper is kind of generous.  I should say that I thought it would be a simple little fixer-upper.  I wasn't looking to do a complete overhaul or a body-off restoration, but here I am with a rotten car with holy floor boards, two old coats of paint, and very little going for it right now.

You are probably thinking that I am an idiot for buying this thing.  It doesn't even drive after all.  You may be right, but I don't care.  This isn't about making money off of the car or having a perfect one for me to look at on the weekends, but keep it under a blanket the rest of its life.  This isn't about concourse events or first place ribbons.  This is about my sincere love of cars and belief that they play a much bigger role in our lives than we usually recognize.
I hate it when people say that they just want something to get them from A to B.  Sure, cars can do that, but thats not all they do.  There is something that happens between A and B that makes a car special.  You build memories in your car, it becomes an extension of your identity.  Your car also says a lot about you.  It could say, "I just had a child and now need room for 15 people so that my 7 lb. baby can fit." It may also say, "I am a man and people need to hear how manly I am."  It could just as easily say, "I am concerned about the environment, but have no idea how or if this car is helping the environment." (By the way, its really not on the grand scheme of things.)  Your car could also say, "I have arrived."  Your car may not say that much about you except, "I have no knowledge about cars so I bought this Enter Korean Make and Model Here."  Whatever it is doesn't matter as much as the fact that you own your car.  Many people paint their cars their favorite color or put glowing lights all over them or jewels or decals or whatever.  Some people never wash their car, thats when their car is saying, "My owner doesn't care much about me right now."  Whatever you do or don't do, you interact with your car, and it tells a story.  Sometimes the stories it tells is pungent like a patch of spilled formula that has rotted and will never go away, or a stain on the backseat from your friends eating food while you went on that road trip in college. Sometimes it has many stories to tell because it is old and dying.  And we let our cars die.
It seems to me that most people want to keep a car until it dies with the hope that the odometer has rolled over so many times that you can't remember how many miles are actually on the thing.  We hope that the relationship lasts until death do us part.  The sad part is that when they die, we send them off and marvel at our new car that smells like new car and is quiet on the interstate.   Then we wonder how we could have put up with that old P.O.S.
But I don't think that cars should die.  I think that, like people, they can be reborn.  Like the car that I bought, it had been killed off by at least two owners before me, but I want it to live on.  I want it to get to know my twins and take them on their first dates.  I want it to take Sarah and me off on a weekend vacation to the mountains.  I want it to snort and growl on a race track and purr softly through the neighborhood.  I want to give it life...again.

And so this is a spiritual exercise.  It has to be, otherwise I couldn't do it.  But I can see the car how it will be one day, not as it is today.  If I focus on its faults now, I will never gets past the cracked paint.  But it I can focus on its perfected form, I can claw through the rust and dirt and rebuild it to be beautiful again...just like us.

Because we don't just become like Christ one day.  We are forged and beaten to that point.  We are sanded and smoothed, pounded and welded into the body of Christ.  It is only after we are stripped to our bare form that we are clothed by the Father.