|I put new wiper blades on our car about two months ago. I splurged and got a name-brand so they would work better and longer. It turns out that the new left wiper squeaks. The squeaky wiper reminds me of my childhood.
I grew up in Arkansas on the end of a five mile dirt road. We were the last house. To go anywhere, we had to drive the entire length of that road to get to pavement and the beginning of civilization. Our family’s 1957 Ford Panel truck always had cracked wipers and was so loud inside on those hilly dirt roads that we had to shout repeatedly to the person sitting beside us to be heard. When I went to college in Chicago, it became an obsession of mine to maintain my vehicles well. No squeaks allowed.
Now my car is squeaking, albeit, just the wiper. Pastoring here in Ohio, I frequently have to drive on miles of dirt roads to reach people with the gospel. I expect more squeaks to develop in our car. In the city, I might be able to stay ahead of the squeaks. Out here, I still fight them, but I have a sneaky suspicion that the squeaks are going to win.
What is the purpose of my life? Fighting squeaks or sharing the gospel? I’ll fight the squeaks a little bit. But I’m all in for the clear gospel. It’s what changes lives. Squeaks used to bother me a lot. Not so much anymore. After all, there won’t be squeaks in Heaven. But all the people on the ends of dirt roads that trust Christ will be. By God’s grace I intend to keep driving down the bumpy dirt roads to tell them the good news of the gospel even if my overrated windshield wiper squeaks all the way.