What Kind of Pastor Are You?

What Kind of Pastor are You?
by Marilyn Mackenzie
April, 2002



God gave me some time to think, perhaps to write, in April, 2002, after I hurt my knee at work and had surgery. I've known many who have had knee surgery, even some older women at church who have had complete knee replacements. They were back to normal in no time. My doctors insisted that I stay home for at least two to three months. My exercise was limited to walking just ten minutes a day. I was upset, could have remained so. Then I realized what a gift I had been given – time to think and write.

Before setting out to write, I usually tried to read. I read about a miracle that someone else wrote about, then started pondering miracles that my family had witnessed.

I remembered a few happenings that could not be reasonably explained, except as miracles. For some reason, many of the miracles my family has experienced have involved traveling and cars.

My parents moved from Florida to Baton Rouge, and we missed having them a few miles away. They invited us to spend Christmas with them, and as if just being with them wouldn't be enough reason to make the trip, they told me I could have their car.

My parents had just purchased a new car, and when they were offered little for their trade-in, they decided they'd give their old car to me. Knowing how well my father took care of his cars, I knew this was a splendid idea. The year was 1993, and my spouse and I were driving an ’82 Chevy and a ’79 Cadillac. My dad was giving us an ’89 Plymouth Horizon with less than 50,000 miles on it. We were thrilled.

We serviced the Caddy for the trip, and got under way close to a week before Christmas, so we'd have time to sell our car in Baton Rouge before returning to Florida. My parents weren't convinced we'd get much for our old car, but we just knew we'd have an easier time selling that old car in Baton Rouge than we would have in Florida.

The trip to Baton Rouge should have been a two or three day trip at most, depending on how much sight seeing we had wanted to do. But, things don't always happen the way they should.

We were only about 180 miles from our home when we had the first trouble with our car. We seriously considered fixing the car and heading back home. Instead, we stayed in a motel and had the car fixed the next morning. I don't remember what the problem was with the car. I don't really know that much about cars, and expect them to go when I get in and turn the key. Whatever the problem was, it was minor and inexpensive. We continued on our trip. Oh, I forgot. An Episcopal pastor we met at a restaurant recommended the mechanic who fixed our car. He was the first of many pastors we met on that trip.

I wish I could remember all the towns where we stopped on that trip. Our car had given us no trouble at home. On the road, the problems were many. None were major, although our car was towed a number of times, just because we were out in the "boonies" when we broke down.

The next time we broke down, we were sitting at the side of the road, wondering if we'd ever make it to Baton Rouge. We had our "experimental phone" with us, one we got from the local phone company before cell phones were so prevalent. It used our home phone number and calls were free at home or within 5 miles of home. Anywhere else in the U.S. calls cost us only 10 cents a minute. (Wouldn't it be great if that experiment had become a reality?) We also had a road service contract, so we were waiting for road service.

A man and his wife pulled up behind us to see if we needed any help. The man was a Methodist pastor. The car was towed, and the repair to the car was simple and inexpensive. We thought about staying in whatever town we were in, but decided instead to get back on the road.

Not long after dark, fog set in and our car started acting up again. We were only in Pensacola. We hadn't even made it out of Florida yet. We stopped at the side of the road. This time, we were frightened. It was dark, and we were on a stretch of highway where the trucks were just zooming past us. My son and I got out of the car and waited in the grass, rather than risk being hit in the car.

Soon, a man pulled off the road to see if we needed help. He was a Baptist preacher. By this time, I was convinced that God was truly taking care of us, in spite of our troubles. He kept sending men of God to check on us and to wait with us until the tow trucks appeared.

We stayed the night in Pensacola. My spouse was getting rather weary, so I went in to register at the motel we had found. He knew that it would be too expensive from the looks of it on the outside. But when I explained to the desk clerk what had happened to us thus far on our trip to spend Christmas with my parents, he gave us the room for only $30. What a fine room it was too, complete with a sauna in the bathroom, and a heated swimming pool. My son loves staying at hotels and motels. I almost wondered if he'd been praying that we'd get to stay at various motels along the way. The next day, our car was fixed and we were on the way again.

Our troubles weren't finished. Before we got into Louisiana, our car conked out again. It was on the highway again, and having trucks and cars whizzing by was unnerving. My son and I, again, sat in the grass. We laughed and wondered what kind of pastor would show up this time to help. Soon two cars stopped to offer assistance. My son and I asked the men if either of them were pastors. Sure enough, one of those cars held a Catholic priest.

The other man was a mobile mechanic. He spent his days traveling the highway and offering assistance to stranded motorists. We were glad he stopped, because by then our phone had lost its charge and wasn't working.

That was the last time the car broke down. After the mobile mechanic fixed the car – again a simple and inexpensive problem – we were on our way again.

When we finally made it to Baton Rouge, my parents were sure that selling our Caddy wasn't even a possibility, given all the trouble we'd had. They were wrong. We got $800 for our car.

The trip, which should have been two or three days at most, had taken us five days. But even with the motel and meals and car repairs, we had only spent about $250. (I had packed a cooler before we left with food and drinks, and replenished it along the way so we weren't eating at restaurants all the time.)

We attended Christmas Eve church services with my mother and my sister and her family and spent Christmas day with my all of them. What fun we had!

A few days later, we took off again in our "new" 1989 Plymouth Horizon. We stopped again in Pensacola, just because we had liked the motel. The desk clerk was the same one, and he gave me the reduced rate once more.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Our new/old car was no trouble at all. All along the way, we saw the places where we had been forced to stop on the trip to Baton Rouge. In the daylight, some of the places where we stopped at night didn't look too inviting. We thanked God for taking care of us and for sending pastors to rescue us when we broke down.

Thinking back, I realize we had to have been in God’s care. My spouse had high blood pressure, and had a stroke just six years before. He didn't handle stress very well. Our son was nine at the time, and must have grown weary each time the car broke down. I know he was frightened, especially when we were stopped in the dark. But we laughed together and took the delays in stride, all the while wondering what kind of pastor would show up to help us next.