Basket case.

Cars that are beyond hope, and in so many pieces that they have to be transported in boxes, are called "basket cases".

I am a basket case.
I'm in a billion pieces, but I still somehow believe that by putting one more coat of paint on, I'll be whole.

Maybe I even had you fooled.
Maybe you thought "wow, what a nice looking car!"

Or maybe you saw right through...to the Truth:

I'm just an old junker with many, many coats of paint, trying to make up for the fact that I still don't run.

That's the bad news.

Sometimes, however, despite how far gone a car is, a mechanic will take up the challenge of restoring it to a better-than-new condition.

(you know where I'm going with this, don't you?)

I believe that's what God wants to do with my life. Instead of just putting more and more coats of paint over a depleted old shell, He's rebuilding me from the ground up.

That's something I can never do on my own...believe me...I've tried.

A lot.

Maybe you're me. A basket case with lots of shiny paint. Sooner or later, the rust will overcome your most valiant efforts, and you'll have to admit to yourself and everyone else what you really are.

But that's okay.

Because as every good restoration pro knows, you have to strip away the paint, and start from the ground up, so that the new paint will have a good foundation.

I am a basket case.

God is a mechanic.

I'm done painting.




I can take no credit for this writing. I haven't written anything worthwhile in a long time, so if you resonated with it, thank God.