Today I have the joy of naming my first car. She's beautiful: a muted red 2008 Hyundai Elantra. Great gas mileage, awesome safety rating, not too many miles already on it, sunroof and (possibly my favorite) cruise control on the steering wheel.
Needless to say, I am a very blessed college kid. Also easily guessed: my part time Walgreens paycheck is not going to be able to pay for this car. So how in the world did I end up driving this vehicle home today? I'm glad you asked.
My father offered me the same deal he extended to my sister when she purchased her first car six years ago: I pay the down payment and he'll take care of the rest. He did this because he knows that we will travel far and he'd rather we have reliable vehicles than purchase what we can actually afford. He wants us to be safe, and helping to provide us decent cars is one way he can be proactive in that facet of our lives.
But driving home today, I couldn't escape the feeling that I didn't deserve this. As some of you may know, a couple of summers ago I accrued a pretty rough driving record.
I totaled my mother's van because I was stupid and allowed my cell phone to distract me while driving. A few months later, I hydroplaned on a country road while driving my sister's car; I spun into a ditch and hit the same fence post three times.
It's been a running joke in my family ever since that I'm not the safest driver. I'm still living with that reputation. (My sister's boyfriend even has a bet going about how long it'll take me to wreck this car.)
So it's pretty easy to see why I have mixed feelings about receiving such a nice car today. I don't really deserve it. With my past record, I don't feel like I could ever do anything to earn such a car or the trust that goes with it. And yet, the keys are in my purse, the mirrors are adjusted to my liking and the owner's manual is mine to peruse and become knowledgeable of.
Why? Why did my parents feel the need to help me get such a nice car? They could have easily found a cheap clunker that could make it over Monteagle and leave it at that. Instead, they have given me this Elantra, in spite of the price and in spite of my past.
Isn't is so much like the grace and mercy of God? We can never do anything to deserve it, and He had to pay such a high price to offer it to us. Yet He didn't hesitate to die on the cross. Why?
Because we're worth it. We are so precious to Him, in spite of our shortcomings, that He went all the way to Calvary to pay for our salvation. All He asks of us is that we live a life of love, love for Him and love for others.
Similarly, my dad asks that, in return for his trust and his investment in me, I exercise caution and discretion in my actions. It's such a small thing to ask when I consider the sacrifices that he and my mother are making in order for me to have such a vehicle.
So, in recognition of my parents' faith in me and of the sacrifice that God made for me, I have decided to name my car Mercy.
For I have been granted mercy by both my parents and God: a chance to escape my past driving record and a chance to escape a life of sin. I can't change my past, but I can live in the light that God has cast upon me. I choose to walk in that path, in that bright future that I know God has for me.
And every time I get behind the wheel of my vehicle, I will remember to thank God for Mercy, both the action and the car.
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