The Classic: Why Real Love Restores (A Parable)
"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." Philippians 1:6 (Holy Hump Day! #9)
A young man found his dream car online. Sure, it was in rough shape—faded and chipped paint, engine almost shot, springs poking through the seats—but that classic beauty was worth every penny the owner was asking.
He went to pick it up and the owner caught him rubbing his hand down the sleek line of the hood.
“I can tell you love her,” the owner said from the door of his house.
“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” the young man said, shrugging.
The owner smiled. “I’ve had it forever. I want it to go to someone who loves it as much as I do. You promise to restore it, and it’s yours. No charge.”
The young man eagerly accepted. As he drove away, the older man said, “I’ll even help if you like.”
But the new owner waved and hit the gas, relishing the growl of the powerful engine and ignoring the stutter in the acceleration.
He drove his new prize around town, showing it off to his friends. They couldn’t believe he’d found such a deal. He beamed with satisfaction and thought about the adventures he would enjoy driving all over the country in his beautiful new classic.
Still feeling the pleasure of owning this wonder, he gave it a wash and a polish. That already looks much better, he thought. I may not need to do as much work as I thought.
Since the car looked better, he continued driving it. When he started noticing the flaws, he’d give it another wash and wax, then stand back and admire the beauty of his dream. The dings and chips became familiar, and he started telling himself that they added character. Despite those flaws, he loved it.
In fact, he loved even the flaws. They told the car’s history. And after a time, he began to assume they were just…part of it. Always would be. And as his perspective turned this way, he began to wonder if he shouldn’t just keep the car the way it was. Why change something I love so much?
The classic engine held on as long as it could, but eventually the stutter got worse and then one day it failed to turn over.
This disappointed the man. He pushed the car into the garage, planning to work on it when life got a little less busy. All the money he had planned to go toward restoration went into a practical car, since he needed to get to work.
He still loved the classic. Even though it just sat there, it still pleased him that he owned his dream car. Visiting it in the garage, he would sit behind the wheel, remember the engine’s roar, and reimagine those adventures he’d wanted to have. On occasion, he’d flip through the big manual and think about starting on some repairs. But it was tough to understand. He’d quit trying before long and give the car a quick wipe to clear the dust. He forgot all about the offer of help from the original owner.
One night, he had a dream. The car sat in a blindingly white shop, hood raised, with someone bent over the engine, inspecting everything.
“There’s hope,” the Mechanic said as he stood up and dropped the hood with a clang. “With a little effort, you can get this humming again.”
“But I don’t know what I’m doing,” the man said, holding up a hand against the bright shop light. “I’ve tried to read the manual and use the tools, but it’s too much for me. I’m just a regular guy.”
“Did you forget that the Owner offered to help?”
“But that was so long ago. I think he’d be upset that I didn’t do anything yet.”
“Well, that’s why I’m here,” the Mechanic smiled.
We’ve been told that loving someone means accepting how they are. This is a half-truth. If we stop at only acceptance, we have lost the full picture and aim of love. In fact, we may be doing more harm than good.
I hope this parable about a man neglecting his beloved classic car makes it obvious through absurdity. Just as a car lover wouldn’t buy a classic just to let it succumb to rust, loving people means we don’t want them stuck. We want them to grow and flourish, to learn wisdom, to find purpose and meaning, discover goodness and beauty, to overcome flaws and develop virtues. It’s true with all relationships, but especially those closest to home, and expressly with our children.
Acceptance alone is weak love. Even those who shout loudest for acceptance in our culture know deep down it’s not enough.
If acceptance was enough, we would be dismayed when our children learned to walk, or speak, or grow into any other skill. But instead, we rejoice at their growth.
This is because God does not love us with only acceptance. He does not overlook our flaws when we come to faith and then rest satisfied with our condition. Yes, Christ accepts us as we are—no matter how decayed and disgusting our actions have been—but that is only the beginning.
Christ’s aim and scope of love is not simply salvation, but sanctification: a lifelong course of repair and restoration1. It doesn’t end until we die, or He returns, but with each step in His plan for us, He intends to bring us closer to His perfect image—manufacturer specs, if you will. But unlike a car, He does the work with our cooperation, not forcing change mechanically but drawing it out through relationship. If we are satisfied with a wash and wax, He will not always force an engine overhaul. When we are ready for more than cosmetic fixes, the tools await.
If this is how God loves us, then it is a picture of how we can best love others. Gently, but with purpose. Always aiming toward Him as the goal of love.
Maybe you took the car in this parable to be a picture of your own faith collecting dust. Or maybe you took the car to be someone who you’re praying for, who you have a hand in discipling. (I meant it to be the latter, but both could work). Either way, you’re not alone in letting something good flounder. We’ve all done it. Christ is ready for us to get back to the process of a better love.
He has a Manual to help, and the Mechanic is available for 1-on-1 consultations 24/7.
In addition to Imago Dad, Brandon Wilborn writes fantasy with spiritual themes. His current project is a series for young readers about a dog with an imagination that highlights the classic virtues of our Judeo-Christian heritage. But he’s already got a couple of fantasy books and stories available at BrandonWilborn.com
This is one of those concepts that is true now, but not complete until the future. When we come to faith, we are sanctified in the sense of being set apart for God. But also, we are not yet holy in the way He ultimately wills for us, hence the process. You can see the tension in this verse: “For by a single offering he has perfected for all time those who are being sanctified.” Hebrews 10:14