The Keys to the Kingdom

 

Sunday morning was going well. I was looking forward to Bible Study and worship at church. I was dressed, had a cup of coffee in my travel mug and my Bible in hand and I had even managed to throw a load of clothes in the washer. All was not only well, I was uncharacteristically ten minutes early in my church departure schedule.

 

As I walked out of the house, I noticed it was a bit cooler than the days before, but it easily came to mind that it was far nicer than just one month ago when 18 inches of fresh snow lay on the ground. Birds were singing and all was green around me as far as the eye could see.

 

I hopped into my vehicle and pressed the “START” button. (Yes, I have one of those new-fangled, 21^st century vehicles.) A message appeared on the dash, “Key Not Detected.” Oh yeah,” I thought to myself as I sighed ever so slightly, “The key is in the pocket of those pants I was wearing yesterday.”

 

And then it occurred to me that those very pants were among the clothes I had just thrown into the washing machine. Yes, I had checked the pockets, as I distinctly remember removing my wallet and approximately 50 cents in change, but I must have missed the fob.

 

It also occurred to me that my fancy, 21^st century front-loading washing machine automatically locks the door once it starts washing a load of clothes. And, even if I did unplug it or somehow get it to allow me to open it in mid-cycle, it would almost certainly result in several gallons of water spilling out onto the basement floor.

 

“No problem,” I thought to myself, I’ll just use the spare keys.”

 

The spare keys were hanging on the hook behind my coveralls, right where I expected them to be. Things were back on track.

 

That is, until I discovered the battery in the spare key fob was dead.

 

The system that engineers have devised to prevent bad folks from stealing my car is indeed ingenious. When I push the “START” button, the vehicle’s computer sends a radio signal to the key fob. The key fob then responds with a  radio signal of its own saying (in effect) “Yes, I’m here and I am the legitimate device to allow the vehicle to start.” The computer then commands the starter to engage and dozens of other things to do what they are supposed to do.

 

If the battery in the fob is dead, you might as well be holding a stone knife or the fossilized tusk of a woolly mammoth in your hand.

 

So, I carefully and gently took the key fob apart to try cleaning off the battery. This works sometimes.

 

But not this time.

 

“Hey!” I thought to myself, “I have a spare battery in the glove box!”

 

So, with a renewed sense of hope, I began removing all the items in the glove box. Lo and behold, at the very bottom of the glove box, I found that spare battery.

 

And it looked wrong.

 

Once again, I carefully opened up the fob and verified that it contained a button battery about the size of a nickel while the “spare” battery from the depths of my glove box was closer to the size of a quarter.

 

Of course, I was now woefully behind schedule and I was obviously going to be hideously and embarrassingly late.

 

It was at this point that my cell phone began buzzing wildly with an in-coming text message from my lovely wife (who was on a separate adventure to a relative’s graduation party) regarding a recipe for rhubarb muffins.

 

We pause the story at this point to confess that at this exact moment in history I lost all hope of ever being canonized, lionized, or even favorably eulogized.

 

I did not swear and I did not curse, but I do believe there may have been some actually gnashing of the dentures.

 

Having exhausted all options with the spare keys, I went back to the house, placed them on the first horizontal surface I found with an, “I’ll deal with you later” look, and made my way to the basement where I could hear the washing machine spinning and pumping water. The control panel verified that the computer inside the washing machine was directing the machine to engage in “MAX EXTRACT” which meant I could probably open the door without causing a deluge of the basement floor. I hit the button marked “STOP” and the machine fell silent. One second later, I heard the “CLICK” that meant the Star Trek door-locking mechanism had been disengaged.

 

I opened the door and found the pants, only to find the pocket was inside-out.

 

I have no idea how long it took the engineer who designed this machine to come up with the exact turbulence pattern to be able to turn pockets inside out, but I’m sure his or her mother is very proud.

 

The pants were sopping wet, of course, and water was now running onto my suede church shoe.

 

It was at this exact moment that my beloved, precious wife (whom I truly do dearly love) texted and asked if I was at my daughter’s house.

 

I typed into the cell phone, “NO!!!!!!!!!!” and (Thank you, Lord) immediately deleted the capital letters and the exclamation points. “No,” I typed as calmly as possible, “I’m stuck at home with my keys inside the washing machine.”

 

I did not put “LOL” or a smiley face behind this sentence.

 

I found a laundry basket, placed it below the opening to the washing machine, and threw the sopping pants into it –along with everything else in the washing machine.

 

There, in a small pool of water, laid my key fob.

 

Now, at this point, I had already had the other fob open twice and I was very much aware that the rubber gaskets inside the fob meant that it was designed to be water resistant.

 

In the world of electronic items, there is an enormous difference between “water resistant” and “waterproof.” There is also an enormous difference between “water resistant” and “21st century washing machine resistant.” 

 

Nonetheless, I dried the fob with a towel, shook it a few times, and dried it again.

 

I ventured back out to the vehicle and, as I approached, I hit the button to unlock the doors. (I knew the vehicle was unlocked, but I did this as a test to see if the fob worked. I certainly was not going to hit the “LOCK” button.)

 

It worked!

 

I got in the vehicle, and sure enough, it started right up.

 

I thanked God out loud and prayed that Bible study and worship would be blessed, and that the church would be filled to overflowing with the love of Jesus Christ to the glory of His name. I prayed for the pastor and the people there. I prayed for my wife and my daughter, and I prayed that I would be a light and shine the love of Jesus and bless everyone I came in contact with.

 

I arrived at Bible study a whopping five minutes late.

 

And while it would be easy to curse all the technology and go off on yet another one of my epic rants about how those Amish people are really a whole lot smarter than the rest of us, the point is we are blessed beyond measure. 

 

God has given us people who make vehicles that are safe and convenient and efficient. He has given us washing machines that clean even the insides of our pockets, and God has given us engineers who can make a tiny device running on a tiny battery that can start your vehicle and lock and unlock its doors from a distance AND survive some bone-head throwing it in the washing machine with his pants. 

 

Later that day, while listening to Ravi Zacharias’ “Let My People Think” on Kinship Christian Radio, (which I am duty-bound to point out is made possible by an enormous amount of 21st century technology) I heard him refer to a statement by G.K. Chesterton that, for a Christian, joy is central to life and sorrow is only peripheral, but for the non-christian, sorrow is central to life and joy is peripheral.

 

Now, I must admit that I was not joyful at all while the key fiasco was taking place, but the joy was still there. The bedrock, the foundation held fast and I was not swept away. I was not tempted to “curse God and die” as Job’s wife so ill-advised him at one point. I know there was a point in my life where I probably would have blown up and lost my temper, given up even thinking about going to church and flopped into my big recliner to pout for the rest of the day.

 

I am by no means fully sanctified at this point in my life, but I am much better than I ever was.  I realized, the minute I walked into Bible study, that being just five minutes late was a blessing and I went on to absorb and learn and grow and my worship and thanks and gratitude and praise to God were not diminished by this minor event in my life.

 

I had not been wrung through the wringer (to use an obvious metaphor), that key fob is still working to this day, and I realize that I have been given a joy that originates from an eternal source.

 

And that, brothers and sisters, is truly like being given the keys to the kingdom.

 

HALLELUJAH!

 

Today’s Praise

I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive for ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades. Revelation 1:18 (NIV)

Written by Dan Jones