JUNKYARD CARS
Many of us entered the Christian life with dented fenders, smashed in grills, and cracked windshields. It’s to you that this article is dedicated. I trust it will be as great a blessing to you as it was to me, who is also among the ranks of those unfortunate ones.
A QUOTE BY C.S. LEWIS
If you are a nice person—if virtue comes easily to you—beware! Much is expected from those to whom much is given. If you mistake for your own merits what are really God’s gifts to you through nature, and if you are contented with simply being nice, you are still a rebel: and all those gifts will only make your fall more terrible, your corruption more complicated, and your bad example more disastrous. The Devil was an archangel once; his natural gifts were as far above yours as yours are above those of a chimpanzee.
But if you are a poor creature—poisoned by a wretched upbringing in some house of vulgar jealousies and senseless quarrels—saddled, by no choice of your own, with some loathsome sexual perversion--nagged day in and day out by an inferiority complex that makes you snap at your friends—do not despair. He knows all about it. You are one of the poor whom He blessed. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day (perhaps in another world, but perhaps far sooner than that) He will fling it on the scrap-heap and give you a new one. And then you may astonish us all—not least yourself: for you have learned you’re driving in a hard school. (Some of the last will be first and some of the first will be last.)
If you are a nice person—if virtue comes easily to you—beware! Much is expected from those to whom much is given. If you mistake for your own merits what are really God’s gifts to you through nature, and if you are contented with simply being nice, you are still a rebel: and all those gifts will only make your fall more terrible, your corruption more complicated, and your bad example more disastrous. The Devil was an archangel once; his natural gifts were as far above yours as yours are above those of a chimpanzee.
But if you are a poor creature—poisoned by a wretched upbringing in some house of vulgar jealousies and senseless quarrels—saddled, by no choice of your own, with some loathsome sexual perversion--nagged day in and day out by an inferiority complex that makes you snap at your friends—do not despair. He knows all about it. You are one of the poor whom He blessed. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day (perhaps in another world, but perhaps far sooner than that) He will fling it on the scrap-heap and give you a new one. And then you may astonish us all—not least yourself: for you have learned you’re driving in a hard school. (Some of the last will be first and some of the first will be last.)
I MADE MY CHOICE-HOW ABOUT YOU?
Years ago I made a conscious decision that I was going to drive my old clunker right up to the Gates of Glory, then trade it in for a shiney new one. What about you, my friend?
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