I turn the key in our car expecting to hear the engine start. No sound. Nothing. My toddler, Gracie, inquires about the problem and insists we need to “fik it.” I tell her the battery is dead, and she retorts, “Change the batteries, Mom.”
“It’s not that simple,” I reply. “We need help.”
I can’t fix this on my own. I can’t push my vehicle out of the garage and up the incline. I can’t grab batteries from the box inside and change it like it’s a remote. Fortunately, my husband arrives ten minutes later, and as Gracie puts it, “He’s our hero!”
We experiment a few times with turning the engine on and off, and all seems well. Before I depart from my driveway, I throw the jumper cables on my front seat … just in case.
After our first stop, we reenter our car (parked strategically on a slight downhill street), and I turn the key. Nothing!
“Oh no, we need Daddy to be our hero!” Gracie exclaims from the back seat.
“Yes, but right now we need someone else to help us.”
I stand outside the vehicle and let a dozen cars pass.
Why is it so dang hard to ask for help? Maybe because it’s counter-intuitive to a culture filled with self-sufficiency and pride. Myself included. But isn’t helping each other a critical piece to the beauty of humanity? We need each other.
I finally muster up enough courage to wave to an approaching van with Deck Masters written on the side. They slowly roll down their window.
“Would you happen to have a couple minutes to help? I need a jump.” The words sputter from my mouth. I don’t want to bother, but I’m desperate.
“Sure,” they say.
I’m well aware my question disrupts their precious time and jolts their day. They park the van in the middle of the street and exit the car with waterproof pants covered in dried mud and hearts willing to help. One man directs traffic to protect both vehicles. The other applies the cables from his car to mine.
Energy transmitted. Giving life to the other. Stepping in when revival’s needed.
Haven’t we all been there? The times when your heart’s battery just won’t turn on. No matter how hard you try in your own effort. When your weary and burdened soul needs a rescuer. Desperate. Longing. Broken down.
Sometimes our proud battery has to completely deplete before we’re humble enough to notice we need help. And that’s the key for the power to be transmitted from one source to the other. Humility.
God’s grace steps in. He leans in and gently whispers, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9). Energy transmitted. Power transferred. Sufficient grace. Who doesn’t need that?!
I get the van driver’s card, because who knows maybe we’ll need a deck one day and can return the kindness. My engine purrs, and we drive away. The gift of a stranger’s kindness fills my veins, and my toddler waves goodbye to “our new heroes.”