The World According To Chris Brewer

So last night around 6:05 PM, my car decided to bite the dust on a country road just north of Nixa. My car has been suffering an insane amount of transmission trouble lately, and it was only fitting that as I was driving, the gears locked on me, my thermostat went to its highest reading, and my engine went CLUNK. With my car completely disabled, by the grace of God I was able to pull it off to the right-hand side of a road that had no shoulder, kitty-corner to someone’s driveway.

I opened the hood and wished I hadn’t. Smoke came pouring out from the engine compartment and there was a funky acrid smell that I never want to have to smell again. To make a long story short, the car will never start again.

The sad thing about all this was that I was on my way to a gathering at James River Assembly called “The Summit,” which was basically a forum for all the worship and creative arts members to worship, hear the Word and mingle after it was all over. I was really looking forward to it — and alas, I never made it out there. It was 7:15 before the kind gentleman I called for a tow got there (the place was really hard to find), and my night was ruined.

Or was it? As it turns out, the gentleman who towed my car is a Christian and we made some good conversation about church, the Christian life, and living in the Ozarks. The guy was great to talk to, and he helped me feel a little bit better about not making it to the Summit when he reminded me, “Everything happens for a reason.”

So true. What if I had made it to the church, met the girl of my dreams during the fellowship time, and made a complete jackdonkey out of myself? Or on a more serious note, what if I had taken Hwy. 65 and my car troubles occurred there? Surely there would have been a wreck (in both instances, hee hee).

Honestly though, maybe my car dying where it did was God’s way of keeping his hand upon me. Who knows what could have happened.

So my car died., but what great timing…I’m flying to Vegas on Monday to drive my Acura home along historic Route 66. God knew what was up.

I’m not sad or dejected about my good old Cirrus puking to death yesterday…that car lasted me 3.5 good years on a bad transmission from the start. Every time I stepped into that vehicle over the last year was a trip taken on borrowed time. Or maybe it was the Lord that helped sustain me, knowing I needed that car until this very point in time.

All in all, how fitting that everything works out the way it does. Thank you Lord for providing me with a car that made it this far, and thank you as well for the one I will be driving back on Monday.

God truly does care about our every need and he always comes through in the clutch for His kids — even if it does mean sitting in someone’s driveway for 50 minutes and waving sheepishly at passing cars.

P.S. Rest in peace, Chrysler buddy. You lived a long life. With your dented hood and all, you took me where I needed to go for nearly four years. Rest well, my good friend.