I’ve never been a car guy, but there is something magical about car restoration. Before and after pictures of an ancient muscle car, once rusted, decayed, and deplorable, beautifully recreated, stir a longing deep within us – or at least it should. What is it about a restoration that grips us and captivates us?

I recently reflected on restoration and decay for two reasons. First, I have an old car that went to the repairman. “The White Stallion,” certainly has seen better days. Go ahead and whistle, but she has no haste left. “Taylor,” her official nickname, is a 2006 Chevy Impala that was gifted to me by my father when I graduated high school. She’s taken me across this country on road trips and ministry appointments and has housed a handful of wild adventures. Have you ever wondered if you could fit a deer in the backseat of an Impala? You can. You can also twirl her 360 degrees on the interstate, but I wouldn’t recommend that sort of dancing.

That car, once a ticket to adulthood and adventure, decayed. She’s always struggled with oil, but other issues cropped up. Bad AC, power-steering, alignment (self-inflicted), new exhaust, electrical — you get the point. One day she just wasn’t what she used to be. Even as I searched for a new vehicle, I struggled with the thought of selling or junking that old car. It’s often harder to let go of old memories than to make new ones.

The second occurrence that had me thinking about the topic of restoration was my dear friend, Thinkling Stearns, losing his wife Robyn to cancer. I found myself watching a slow, inevitable decay. His wife slowly succumbed to a horrible disease that is all too common in our broken world. I struggle to say goodbye to a car; how does a husband say goodbye to his wife? How does a father teach his children to say goodbye to their mother?

While you chew on that, let me tell you the end of my trivial car story. I did end up purchasing a new car — which you may have heard about from some semi-recent Thinklings Podcast episodes. Here’s what I learned: purchasing new vehicles is quite the wild ride! The first one I bought broke down on its maiden voyage to a friend’s wedding out of state. After that experience, I wouldn’t wish a long-haul tow on any enemy!

I was forced to look for a second car and eventually found my current car. That car, on its first trip out of state, sprung a leak in the radiator. I mentioned earlier that I’m not a car guy, but, in case you’re wondering, radiators are a big deal for cars. It’s even more important in the middle of nowhere in Arizona. A half dozen bottles of coolant later, I had returned to Iowa, had a second car in the shop, and was wobbling to work in that old Impala again.

Once the “new” CR-V was fixed, I confined the old car to sit at my apartment complex until I overcame my immaturity and sold her. She sat for a handful of months and was even broken into a few times. The final straw was the orange ticket on her windshield from the apartment complex saying, “It’s either you or her, but one of you has to go!” I reluctantly had her towed to the repairman and was deciding between junking or giving away.

When cars break down we are reminded that we live in a broken world. Creation groans for redemption from the blanket of sin that has covered us like a coat of ice on our windshields on winter mornings. To live life outside of this reality is a fool’s game and yields no reward. My car is metal forged out of the earth, plastics, glass, and other earthenware; our bodies have been formed from the dust of the earth too. Cars and cancer teach us that when death knocks at the door, we cannot lock him out.

Are we talking about cars or humans? That’s up to you. I just got a call about my Impala. Turns out that a few tweaks, a new battery, and new tires and she is back on the road! Honestly, I was shocked and thrilled. I climbed into the seat and started her up for the first time (at least without jumper cables) in months. The engine started and so did memories.

The first time I sat in that car my father sat next to me. I was much younger and dumber, and I had no idea I was in the car with my best friend. The man who taught me to speak, laugh, and drive handed me keys that day so I could move away from him. I don’t know if you have ever had a parent say, “This hurts me more than it hurts you,” but I think my leaving for college may have been one of those moments (thankfully, without any spankings). I’m sure it hurt for him and my mother, but at the same time, it was one of the most joyful days of my life. Opposites sometimes attract, and heartache and joy make a common couple.

That same car took me to college, Iowa Football games, Bible camps, vacations, and the hospital where my father died. It wasn’t cancer, like Robyn. It was a simple operation gone wrong, and he was gone too. A handful of years later writing this still pains me. I hope no one walks into the office; I’m a mess.

Have you ever thought about the fact that death is an inescapable part of our existence? It’s a reality that we all have to face at some point in our lives. Death knocks, and we cannot lock the door. Whether a snap of the fingers or a slow, painful decay, death happens.

As I drove my repaired car around, I was thrilled to remember so many great moments and to remember my father. I was thankful for the car, but I remembered the day Dad told me he believed in the Gospel. Those who believe in the gospel have promises with far surpassing grandeur than the wishful thinking of my mechanic. Taylor runs now but is destined for ruin. Those who believe in the Gospel may die, but those who believe also have eternal life. Restoration is a part of reality, too.

Total, complete, restoration and eternal life.

The following is a portion of 1 Corinthians 15:20-58:

“But in fact, Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For as by a man came death, by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead. For as in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive.

The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

But someone will ask, “How are the dead raised? With what kind of body do they come?” You foolish person! What you sow does not come to life unless it dies. And what you sow is not the body that is to be, but a bare kernel, perhaps of wheat or of some other grain. But God gives it a body as he has chosen, and to each kind of seed its own body.

So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable. It is sown in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness; it is raised in power. It is sown a natural body; it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body.

I tell you this, brothers: flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God, nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Behold! I tell you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we shall be changed. For this perishable body must put on the imperishable, and this mortal body must put on immortality. When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written:

‘Death is swallowed up in victory.’

‘O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?’

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.”

Steadfast: being firmly and solidly in place. Immovable: not shifting or changing. Abounding in the work of the Lord: progressing more and more into serving the one who was raised first to raise us, knowing that a life, even one destined for death, is not wasted or forgotten in the unending wisdom of the Heavenly Father.

One more thought from Scripture, this time from 2 Corinthians 5:

“For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent, we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling, if indeed by putting it on we may not be found naked. For while we are still in this tent, we groan, being burdened—not that we would be unclothed, but that we would be further clothed, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life. He who has prepared us for this very thing is God, who has given us the Spirit as a guarantee.

So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in the body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith, not sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord. So whether we are at home or away, we aim to please him.”

Take courage, friends. You are a broken, dust-formed, death-destined human. But God sent his Son to earth, and Jesus humbled himself to the point of death on the cross to die for us all. Belief in him doesn’t lock death’s door, but trusting Jesus yields the love and hope to walk by faith through doors of deepest pain and highest joy.

As I leave the office today and start my old Impala, that’s what I’m thinking and thankful for:  our restoration. Our incorruption. Our life in the presence of Christ. My dad is there. Robyn is there. What a day of joy is coming! All who trust the Gospel of Jesus will eventually be restored and follow there.

If you’re reading this, you’re probably not there but still here, on Earth. Either way, be steadfast and immovable. Continue to serve the Lord because you know his eternal plan in the Gospel. While we wait to join, let’s aim to please him together.