What did you think of the Jetta? I read it three times over and don’t hold the salesman hostage for the cause of my forming tears. After months of ‘new’ car issues I am on the look out for a new car again. But the point of this is not that.

Only two days prior I’d gone and looked at a 2011 Jetta with a wicked warranty. After my last car purchase, only May 2012, I wanted something that I could guarantee my money into. And we worked out the payments and he sent me off the lot without making me purchase the pretty metal. I’m pretty sure I scared him with my last car salesman story… though I promised I’m typically nice.

And my brows have been furrowed and my teeth sunk deeper into my gums as I clenched. And I haven’t let go since. You see, it’s nothing to do with the cars. It’s everything and nothing to do with the cars.

After a long winter and quickly passing summer I have healed old wounds and found new loves for those God wrote on my heart. And I cannot help by cringe when I think of sinking $20,000.00 into a casing of metal and A/C to get me from point A to point B. I can’t stand to think that would pay entirely for a young lady I mentor to go to YWAM this coming January without concerns for finances. If on a six-year term, monthly payments of $352.00 would pay for eleven children to have basics provided for them, never mind if I went with a four-year, $518.00 monthly payment.

I walked ’round the cold blocks of this suburbia and cried. I don’t belong in this comfort, this place. And some people do, but I don’t. I belong with those babes who sleep without a kiss goodnight. I belong with God’s kids, not in heated bucket seats.

What do I think about the Jetta? What do I think about the Jetta? What do I think about the Jetta?

I think I just booked a seat at Not For Sale’s 2012 Global Forum in California to see how I can fit in. I think I just left Bob Goff a voicemail and am doing my best to make connections with Restore International to see how I can pitch in; hopefully connecting with them in August while I visit San Diego. And I know I’ll sign up for NFS’s next two-week academy when the schedule comes out, and I am pretty sure I’ll be traveling to Uganda next July to figure out what Rehabilitation programs are doing for their formerly trafficked children so I can be part of something bigger here too.

Because I don’t need my life to read cars, suburbia or television hang overs. And I simply cannot die without having lived for some purpose. Sure I’m not Mother Teresa, but I could be something similar, just a little rough around the edges. And I’m tired of hearing these are the dangerous prayers of the christian. What kind of lame christians are we becoming when it’s dangerous to risk losing our life for others to find theirs. When we gasp in fear more at the thought of someone selling their possessions to sleep on the dirt near road bombs and love dirty children in the gutters as though they’ve gone off the deep end. And spending tens of thousands of dollars on comforts and gadgets are something we applaud without question, though our questions never subside or find resolve when asked to donate to a cause? As though it’s somehow better to pray for protection while road trip driving to our favorite bible camps than send ourselves on potentially threatening missions when called.

I was destined for more than great car warranties and sufficient leg space in the back seats. I was meant for more than living in selfishness. My jaw is sore with deeply, deepening pain of these injustices.

And though I’m sure it won’t make sense to send this to the Jetta salesman as my response; this is what I think about that Jetta.