I wish I could say that this story I’m about to tell is profound, but it-it’s not – it is not a profound story!

I want to tell you about my old pickup. It’s a 1972 Chevrolet two-wheel drive, otherwise affectionately known as “Old Mustard.” Now, I’ve had it for a long time. Many cars have come and gone through the Rawson household through the years, but Old Mustard has outlived them all. The others were fancier, they were more comfortable, they had more features – but they’re gone now, and he isn’t.

Winter to summer, he sits outside, not in the garage, and yet he is the one who has always started, always been there in the pinch. When the real work needed to be done, we’ve always turned to Old Mustard, and he always gets it done.

Battle-scarred? – Oh, momma! He is the ugliest truck in the country! There is nothing even remotely handsome about him! We had a contest one time among my students to see who could get the exact count on how many colors he sports. We lost count at 23. But since then, he has been wrecked twice and rebuilt, and the shades of rust and primer have deepened and hued over time. He is homely, but he’s a tough old warrior.

He has taught each of my children to drive. He’s been an excellent teacher – dents included. Somehow, he has endured gracefully the dents, the grinding gears, the folded bumpers, and the leveled telephone poles. He has taken us faithfully to beautiful scenic places, pulled our camp-trailers, and served us as no other.

He’s low-maintenance – he always has been! Oh, sure – we’ve had to do some repairs once in a while along the way, but nothing compared to these other pieces of plastic that I drive. [The] fact is, in some respects, this old truck is better now than he was when he was built!

Now, I don’t know if you should love a piece of machinery, but we love him! Each of my children want[s] him. They argue over who gets him when I’m dead. I finally settled the argument by telling that when I go, I want to be buried with him as my casket.

Now, he’s plain; he’s ordinary. He will never be anything but a work truck. There’s nothing aspiring or pretentious about him. He is exactly what you see! But what you will never see is how faithful to the work he has been for more years than any of my children have [has] been alive. A Hummer he is not. A Ram he will never be. No one will ever go, “Oooooooooo” when he goes by. But if there’s a heaven for old trucks, well – he surely belongs there.

I’ve had numerous offers to buy him. We’ve turned them all down. It would take more money than I can afford to replace him. Besides, I know this sounds kind of over-the-top, but how do you replace a trusted and true friend?

Now, I hope you know that this story is a parable. Yes, I’m talking about my old truck, but I’m really talking about us as servants of the Lord. You might not be the best looking, the most talented – with the most to give. You might be downright homely, with low talent, just like Old Mustard. It isn’t how you look that matters, it’s what you give.

As Old Mustard has given for my family, so I hope we will all give for the Lord and His family – the tranquil steady dedication of service – for a lifetime.

So, even if it’s compound, quit worrying about how you look. Let’s get it in gear, and get to work!