Leprosy

Ah, lovely rust. Some cars wear it well. Such imperfections are markers of experience, tragedy, and tenacity. They’re testimonies to the survival of the human spirit, or something. 

Quite a few car folks prefer the weathered aesthetic, especially at classic car auctions where “survivor” examples of unbelievably rare cars tend to be far more valuable than ones that have been restored one, two, or a dozen times. Unrestored Model As generally aren’t rare enough to sell for large sums. With 4.8 million built over five years, plenty of well-kept original ones are in the hands of plenty of historians and archivists. Nevertheless, patina is a big deal in any classic car culture, lending a raw authenticity when rust (in controlled, limited amounts) is on full display. Most buyers will just clear-coat it and enjoy it.

Or fix it. If your proclivities find you getting lost in perfect, mile-deep, gold-flake finish, take this rusty old bucket of bolts to the shop and get it done right. 

Obviously, the machine can’t choose. It’s up to you and your willingness.

In the Bible, Jesus expressed willingness to heal and save people over and over again:

“When [Jesus] came down from the mountainside, large crowds followed him. A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, ‘Lord if you are willing, you can make me clean.’ Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man. ‘I am willing,’ he said. ‘Be clean!’ Immediately he was cured of his leprosy.” (Matthew 8:1-3)

This story stands in neat juxtaposition to another one (found in John 5:1-15) when Jesus approached someone who had been sick for 38 years: “When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, ‘Do you want to get well?’” (v. 6) The man evaded the question, replying instead with something about a local superstition about the healing powers of the water. You can imagine Jesus practically shaking some sense into this guy when he says, “Get up! Pick up your mat and walk” (v. 8). Later, when the religious do-gooders asked the man who healed him, the man “had no idea who it was, for Jesus had slipped away into the crowd that was there” (v. 13). 

That’s unusual. Most people would have heard of Jesus by now, but this man didn’t describe him by name. He couldn’t describe him at all. He never addressed Jesus by name. He didn’t kneel before him. He didn’t express faith in Jesus’ power or even willingness to be healed. But something else in this story supersedes the sick person’s unwillingness: Jesus’ willingness. Jesus willingly healed, fed, taught, cured, and cleansed tens of thousands of people, independent of their personal volition, and continues to do so today. Jesus asks people to willingly long for healing and ask for redemption. But his power is stronger than unwillingness, doubt, wandering, and stubborn refusal. 

And Jesus is indeed willing. Feel the tenderness and warm affection of Jesus deliberately touching the man with leprosy. This would have been an outrageous act of self-humiliation, because sick people were generally considered “sinful” and “unclean.” But Jesus was willing. Metaphorically, his act of touching infected himself with the leper’s ultimate sickness – sin – when Jesus took the sins of all humankind to the cross. He suffered with that sickness but ultimately defeated it, dying in the place of billions of people who didn’t ask him to and still, to this day, don’t care. 

So Jesus checks in on these folks from time to time. He later approached the person who had been sick for 38 years, saying, “‘See, you are well again. Stop sinning or something worse may happen to you.’” It sounds like a threat, but it’s a warning. The worst things humans face aren’t temporary illnesses or even paralysis but eternal consequences for a refusal of God’s healing and restoration. God doesn’t want that. He wants willingness. Yet his own willingness is offered first.

The process of preparing damaged sheet metal for paint is awfully messy. Entire sections of rusted or corroded metal are sawed out before new patches of metal are patch-welded in. Then the sanding begins. Some poor soul has to do all of this by hand, and although they’re protected by a welding helmet and other protective gear, they end up wearing plenty of rust and dust. It’s just another image of the sinfulness Jesus wore when he restored you.

John V16 is the intersection of God and cars. Please support our work and donate a V16-powered 1940 Cadillac Series 90 Sixteen to John V16. Or share this article with a friend.