HEARING GOD’S HEART ABOUT TRANSFORMED LIVES
“Oh no, not again, Dad.”
“I think I just saw one. It’ll just take a couple of minutes,” he reminded his kids as he pulled off of a lonely highway. He loved taking the roads less traveled on their family vacations.
“Honey, would you hand me a plastic bag?”
As he stepped out to walk back a bit to find his treasure, the kids couldn’t help themselves this time: “Mom, why can’t dad have a regular hobby like everybody else?”
“Yeah, like sports, or working on cars, or gardening or something? It’s embarrassing when our friends come over and ask us about the gazillion caps on the walls of our garage.”
“Well, this is a hobby that means much more to your dad than you think. Maybe it’s time you hear why. Look, he’s about back. Why don’t you ask him?”
“Yup! I’ve got another good one!” he said as he waved the carefully sealed baggy.
“Dad, that’s one of the most disgusting ones yet. Who knows how many cars and trucks have run over it, or animals gnawed or peed on it!? Why in the world do you collect these filthy caps off the road and take forever to work out the stains and clean them up? Just order some new ones online!”
“You really want to know?” he asked as he pulled out to start down the highway again.
“Yes!” they said in chorus.
“You think they’re ready to hear it, honey?” She nodded.
“Okay. Well, way before you two were born and before your mom and I even met, I was a road cap.”
“What do you mean you were a road cap?”
“Well, without getting into the gory details, I got into all kinds of trouble with drugs and alcohol with some friends who were just as messed up as I was. Then we got into breaking into places and stealing things to pay for our multiple addictions, until we finally got caught.”
“Caught? Uh, did you have to go to prison?”
“Actually, yes. For a little while. I was angry. Wounded. Broken. In painful bondage. Feeling totally forgotten and left to rot in prison then, and on the streets later. And that was when I began to realize had badly I had trashed up my life. I was a road cap.”
“Oh. Wow.”
“But then I began to think about a couple of other friends who would invite me to go to some kind of church thing with them every now and then. They did it for years and I’d just laugh them off. But they weren’t into drugs and crime and prison, or anything close to that. So I decided to find them and ask them for help. They were delighted to see me, shocked that I was finally asking for help, and they began to walk with me, encourage me, and tell me about their walk with the Lord Jesus. And to make a long story short, the more I got to know the Lord, the more He cleaned me up.”
“So, the caps?”
“The caps are a reminder of what I once was, but how the Lord loved me enough to pick me up, clean me up, and still work on my messy spots. He never gives up on me, and I never give up on the dirtiest cap I find. Those aren’t caps on our garage walls. Each one is a constant reminder to me, of me . . . a trophy of the loving grace of God, not just for me, but for anyone. And that’s why I collect road caps.”
