Ode to a Lexus. Except Not.

Ode to a Lexus. Except Not.

I have nice things, and I don’t always like it.

Do you ever feel that life you want to live, you know, the one that’s going on in your head and the one you plan to be remembered for—that life—do you ever wonder how to get there and if you ever will?

I’ve lived a privileged life—I’ve never wanted for anything, ever. And this started bothering me in high school. This would explain why I would remember a guy saying to me in front of half our high school class that I was going to hell for being rich. And I later dated this tool—Where were my standards, not to mention my brain? And why didn’t one of my friends slap me across the face? I digress….

Do you ever feel defined by something you own? Maybe it’s an image-helper or an image-hurter, but you feel like people see you a certain way because of that thing. Well let’s just get this out in the open—I drive a Lexus. If you’re reading this and drive a Lexus yourself, you may be thinking What’s wrong with that?And the answer is, nothing. But here’s a little insight into my ridiculousness. My car is fairly new so not a lot of people know about it. I was meeting a friend about a week ago, and I definitely got there before her in hopes of her not seeing me pull up in my shiny vehicle. (And no, she’s not even the type to judge…this is totally on me.) YOU GUYS. THAT’S DUMB. So you may ask,Well why’d you get the car if it’s such a burden? (You may also be thinking, You drive a Lexus. Quit complaining and go see your Lexus friends at Whole Foods.) Here’s the deal. My husband and I had a baby. I drive in Dallas—a lot. We wanted her to be as safe as possible. And we could afford the car. That was pretty much the end to that journey. But here’s the deal—I don’t want to be associated with it. It’s a possession I am glad to have for safety reasons, but I cringe at the thought of being put in a box because of it. Last point about the car—About a month ago, I met a dear friend for brunch. This girl is one of my favorite people—she has such a beautiful spirit. But she doesn’t know Jesus. My entire purpose on this earth is to be His light, and my hope is one day she will see that through our conversations. So we’re leaving brunch, and she gets a clear shot at my shiny SUV. Of course she says nothing, but my first thoughts were, Is this what she thinks is important to me? What makes me any different from anybody else? Is this possession keeping me from being the hands and feet of Jesus?

I began to realize that even though we hope to be seen for our hearts, we are often first seen for our stuff. This isn’t right, and we may claim we don’t personally live this way, but it’s often true—and I’m guilty of it as much as I detest it.

What do you want to be remembered for? Think about it for a minute.

When I leave this earth, I want people to know me for loving my Jesus and loving His people. That’s it. If that is what this lifetime represents, I will have lived a full life. Even more specifically, will I be able to say I loved the least of these? The broken and those who feel like they’ve fallen between the cracks of this world. The lost and the hopeless. I want to love these people. And I don’t just mean passing out a twenty-dollar bill every now and then. I mean really love them, as in build relationships with them and share our stories together.

A few weeks ago, I was thinking hard about this, but I was feeling defeated before even beginning. A few of my thoughts at the moment:

     What does loving the least of these even mean for me?                                         How do I do this with an infant?                                                                                What if I miss my chance?

Then it hit me—not like a ton of bricks but rather quietly, like I was gently being reminded:

I’ve put this passion inside you. If you grasp it, I will do the rest.

Now, something I am very much learning is patience. I’m also learning that my current idea of what I should be doing may not in fact be what I will actually be doing—it will be better.

You know how when a short person (a kid) sees something they think is cool and they just HAVE TO HAVE IT? But then later in the day, they see something else and realize it is SO MUCH BETTER, and they’re glad they waited (aka, you wouldn’t get them the first thing)?

Short people grow up to be taller people, but we still often have the same mentality. Our first idea or the first possibility seems golden—and we want to hop on that train fast. That first idea may indeed be our ticket, but we don’t want to be in such a hurry to make a difference that we miss our true opportunity.

My role right now is to be a mom. And if you are in the same boat as me, please don’t think I’m saying it’s not enough. We have such a special task set before us. I was reminded just yesterday that we are not only raising a child, but we are raising a new generation. I think that’s pretty legit.

If you’re like me though, you sometimes struggle with not impacting more of the world. We have to remember though that if we have a passion within us, it was placed there for a reason, and if we choose to pray over it, nurture it, and dig into it, that passion will spring life.

A verse I’m holding on to:

     “He has told you, O man, what is good;                                                                  and what does the Lord require of you                                                                     but to do justice, and to love kindness,                                                                        and to walk humbly with your God?”                                                                                                       -Micah 6:8

Let this be what we are seen for. Let this by our livelihood. Let this be who we are.

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  1. […] I didn’t want to. It’s why I had a hard time getting a nice car (you can read all about that here) or why I didn’t want to move into a house bigger than what we needed. They felt like big, fat […]

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