If God Loves Me, Then Why Won’t My Lawnmower Start? And What Set Off The Car Alarm?

Six trees overhang our house.

All year long they drop twigs, leaves and acorns on our roof.

Periodically, I climb my rickety ladder onto the rooftop to blow this debris off and clean the rain gutters.

Yesterday, although I’d suggested several fun ways to spend our weekend, that woman I live with dictated a massive general cleanup in preparation for Christmas. So, like Santa, I found myself up on the rooftop.

It’s been a while since I last cleaned the roof so there was quite an accumulation of fallen branches and leaves around the chimney pot. I successfully avoided being electrocuted by the electric wires up there and used the leaf blower to clean the roof. Then I climbed down and raked all the accumulated leaves away from the house foundation in neat rows so I could run the mulching mower over them so they’d disappear into the soil and I would not have to pick them up.

The lawn mower would not start.

Fuel. Air. And Spark — the three elements of ignition. I checked each one in turn. Put in a new air filter; that seemed fine. Removed and cleaned the sparkplug; no problem there. Drained the fuel tank and put in fresh gas; should work perfectly now.

Ha!

I pulled the rope. I primed the carburetor. I pulled the rope. I pulled the rope. I pulled the rope. I pulled the rope. I pulled the rope. I pulled… I cursed like a sailor!

When we came back from vacation, the little boy next door asked me if I ever got angry. His mother apparently had used me as an example of a calm, peaceful adult; she told him to be like John. She said that in the dozen years she’s known me, she’s never seen me get mad about anything.

Good thing she and her six-year-old son were not around yesterday.

I grew livid over that trouble with the lawnmower. Furious! Here I’d done all the right things and the thing still would not work. I did everything I was supposed to do, and still nothing worked right.

I shoved the damn thing back into the shed and began to rake up leaves and put them into trash bags….

The car alarm went off.

Beep! Beep. Beep. It blared. Neighbors ran out to see what set it off; neighbors Phil & Sherri, Rick and Bubba all looked out or came by to see if I were ok. Ginny ran around the house to see what was the matter; she thought I’d pushed the panic button on the remote car key…

I had.

Being so fat, when I squatted down to pick up a rake-full of leaves, a roll of my belly fat squished the car keys in my pocket and mashed the panic button setting off the alarm.

Guess who had to explain what happened?

Damn!

Looks to me like if God is smart enough to create man smart enough to invent a lawnmower (or a computer) then that same Creator, source of all power in the universe, would be smart enough and powerful enough to keep my lawnmower working so I could mulch the leaves (which He also is responsible for creating).

Ok. Historically, I know that the love of God is shown toward us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. But on a practical level, how does God show His love for me?

If I loved somebody and had the ability and power to make their lawnmower start, then I’d do it.

Makes me wonder if God doesn’t have a funny idea of how to show love.

He calls us friends, but I would not treat my friends the way He treats me.

Of course, I have to consider the real tribulations Christians all over the world now and throughout history have suffered. Persecution, discrimination, torture, execution for the name of Christ. Having a wonkey lawnmower may well be the slightest trouble any Christian anywhere has ever undergone.

God knows that if having my will and plans thwarted in so small a matter as mulching leaves, then I’m certainly not ready to handle any of the major troubles life brings by its very nature… One way you know anything is alive is by its response to a stimuli; dead things don’t respond to pain. They’re dead.

Still, theology aside, I wish I could get my lawnmower started.

Ginny, God bless her, got out another rake and helped me bag leaves.

For supper, she served us the very last bit of the leftover ham she baked for Thanksgiving. It’s finally gone.

Know a good definition for the word ETERNITY?

Two people and a ham.