Detachment at the Dealership

The loan specialist from Wells Fargo looked at us, his eyes and knit brows conveyed something like, “you’re crazy.” I imagine he thought of us as his own kids and was offering us the help and advice he would offer them.

We had gone to our local car dealership to see what we had won. They had sent out cards to all the postal customers with a prize, we could win a car, at flat screen tv, or a gas card (we won the gas card, odds - 1:1). It was just for fun. We decided while we were there we’d price out some vehicles and see what it would take. Our ’98 Grand Caravan has 194,000 miles on it, so the thought of replacing it has crossed our minds.

As they worked hard to get us into a used Impala, the reality of our budget became clear.

“So basically your ideal monthly payment would be zero…”

“Well that would fit our budget.” Elaine replied. The loan officer shook his head.

“Your van has nearly 200,000 miles on it. You are on borrowed time. What are you going to do when it breaks down. It is really time to think of another car,” he said with a fatherly tone in his voice.

“Well,” Elaine started, “You’re going to think we’re crazy, but God has given us the last four cars we have had, so we figure when this one goes, he’ll give us another one.”

“God’s just going to give you a car?!” And just as if he was frustrated with his children the loan officer found a way out of the room and threw his hands up, no doubt thinking how irresponsible our attitude was.

Well, look at what we make as pastors. There is just no way we could afford a payment and full insurance on a new car. We are completely dependent on God’s provision. He got us into this mess, he’ll get us out of it too.

Mary Albert Darling in The God of intimacy and Action, writes that asceticism when done well helps us to get beyond the things that distract us and allows all the things of the world to “hang lightly on us.” Detachment is a powerful thing. I appreciate that I don’t own the house we live in, it belongs to the church, it is God’s. In a way our car is the same. He gave it to us. It hangs lightly on us. I would like to get the odometer to a quarter of a million miles, but when it finally dies we know God will provide.

Thomas A’Kempis also strikes this chord.

When a man desires a thing too much, he at once becomes ill at ease. A proud and avaricious man never rests, whereas he who is poor and humble of heart lives in a world of peace. An unmortified man is quickly tempted and overcome in small trifling evils; his spirit is weak, in a measure carnal and inclined to sensual things; he can hardly abstain from earthly desires. Hence it makes him sad to forego them; he is quick to anger if reproved. Yet if he satisfies his desires, remorse of conscience overwhelms him because he followed his passions and they did not lead to the peace he sought. True peace of heart, then, is found in resisting passions, not in satisfying them. There is no peace in the carnal man, in the man given to vain attractions, but there is peace in the fervent and spiritual man (Imitation of Christ book 1, chapter 6).

In our experience at the car dealership we tasted both of the conditions A’Kempis speaks about. We were poor and in a place of humility by the grace of God. We are also carnal, and test driving the cars felt good. The assessment of our budget left us feeling depressed - the hopelessness of ever satisfying those desires on our own power.

We are learning detachment to our things and our desires just as Father Fillaret learns it in this clip from the Russian film, “The Island”