Small cars come with big blessings.

Lori and I have driven compact and subcompact cars for the last 12 years. We drove a MINI Cooper. We drove a Toyota Carolla. We presently drive a Fiat.

I have loved all of them. They get great mileage and park anywhere.

They also make for conversation pieces. I’ve been approached my enthusiastic moms, and curious grandpas. I’ve been roasted, in traffic, by young black guys with jokes.

I’m 6’4” Lori is 5’8”. We are adult sized people. Me getting out of a (surprisingly roomy) Fiat looks like a prank. It’s a clown car. And in a suit, I may look like an executive clown, but I do not mind.

That said, they do have their drawbacks. It occasionally feels like a sophisticated Go Kart. You may feel like praying when you see a pothole. And I once went over a raised cement area in Bay Ridge that, unbeknownst to me, punctured the oil pan. And when I pulled over after driving two blocks, the street looked like Jack Woltz’s bed after Vito Corleone cut off his horse’s head to send a message.

But that was years ago. And generally speaking, the car takes the hits, and survives.

And the problem with that is you learn to tune out noises and sensations.

So yesterday, Lori and I were driving to Christian Cultural Center’s Long Island Campus, because I was preaching there this Sunday. And toward the end of the ride, on the local Smithtown roads, things start feeling notably bumpy. And suddenly I realize that I have been listening to what sounds like a helicopter overhead.

As we pull into the lot, a church sister says, you know you have a flat tire, right?

And we do. I would later learn that we drove over a nail, which, could have happened anywhere. Who knows?

But I had a job to do, so I want inside and preached the service. CCCLI is always a refreshing experience. It’s a beautiful community that comes ready to worship, learn and celebrate. We had a great day at church.

And then I got out, gratefully waved off the church brothers who were happy to help, and called AAA.

The driver shows up in about a half an hour with one of those massive flatbed tow trucks.

He is a white guy with a red beard, and a whole bunch of ink. He looks like he has probably seen some stuff.

(An aside: There are Christians who are against tattoos. I am not one of them. Leviticus 19:28 says “You shall not make any cuts on your body for the dead or tattoo yourselves: I am the Lord.” So the first part of the verse leads me to frame the second part in the context of pagan worship. People used tattoos both to worship the dead, or worship other gods. It goes on to say, in verse 31, that you should not seek out spiritists and mediums , people who were understood as able to speak to, or channel the dead, in the hopes of communicating with them. The emphasis here is on messing with spirits, not ink.

I would also note that the Bible continues to speak on the subject of idolatry and ancestor worship. It never again mentions tattoos. Wherever possible, I try not to base a worldview on a single verse. And the further cultural context of this verse is that tattoos, in this time, often denoted crimes or prostitution. . They sometimes marked enslaved people as property of an empire. This is a far cry from body art. You may believe that God rages against your niece’s Pokemon tattoo. I do not. But I digress.)

So, back to the tow truck driver.

What caught my attention, was a message tattooed on his bicep. Since he was never really sitting still, I had to ask him what it said.

And extending, his arm he revealed the statement “we accept the love we think we deserve.”

Then he said “words to live by, brother” and went back to work.

And I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

The quote comes from the book “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky.

I downloaded it on Audible. I’ll get back to you when I’ve read it.

The gist of it, however, appears to be that our brokenness leads us to chase the harmful, and reject the genuine. Low self-esteem will lead us to embrace mistreatment. High self-esteem may cause us to spend more time alone, because we are not willing to accept abuse and call it love. And if we have a pattern of toxic relationships, we may think no-one loves us, because what we call love always hurts, and we push people who try to love us away.

I do wonder, also, if we sometimes suffer the effects of a “high self-esteem” that is really just whitewashed brokenness, or painted-over pain. You can tattoo a smile on your face, and still be sad. And this, I fear, is what far too many of us do.

We say we’re fine, and we’re really hurt.

We say we’re too blessed to be stressed, and we’re really afraid.

We say we’re called to singleness, and we’re really disappointed.

We say we’re high level men and women, who can’t be bothered with losers, and we’re really just afraid to be vulnerable. We have intimacy issues and attachment disorders that we’ve repackaged as a lifestyle brand.

I don’t know everything about relationships.

I don’t know nearly enough about cars.

I just know that if we break down on the journey, we’re going to need some help.

I pray, wherever you’re driving today, that you make it with your tires intact.

I pray that you find people who love you, who you can love, warts and all.

I pray, that if you need help, you ask for it.

And I pray that you stop chasing pain, and stop chasing waterfalls, even if you think you can swim.

Safe travels; I pray you enjoy the ride.

(Photo Credit: Geralt)