It was a bad habit to get into but it always saved a few seconds when time was of the essence though to be perfectly honest, when you're a student, time is hardly an important factor, apart occasionally from having to get an assignment in on time or being late for a lecture. So I just got into the habit and deep down, I knew that sooner or later, I would fall victim to my own stupidity. It was a Tuesday morning, I think and I had just parked the old Allegro in the car park, outside the university, jumped out hurriedly, though not even remotely late for the day's education and banged the door shut, while holding the outside handle, to save time in having to lock it with the keys. It was at this precise moment that I noticed the keys were still hanging from the ignition beside the steering wheel. A chill of panic rushed through my veins but then I quickly got things into perspective and realised that education would have to wait a little bit longer for there was a set of keys to be freed from their prison and a door that had to be opened.It's a funny thing but we had all often talked about the different ways in which thieves break into cars and now I had the opportunity to try them out. One suggestion was cutting a hole in a tennis ball and squeezing it against the keyhole, in the hope that the out rushing air would spring the lock and thus the door would open. The lack of a tennis ball in my pocket on the way to lectures sort of made me count that one out immediately. However I did manage to acquire a wire coat hanger from a fellow student in the neighbourhood and decided to set about the task of pushing it into the space between the driver window and its rubber surround, eventually looping it around the little rimmed lock button and springing it upwards. But you don't look entirely inconspicuous nor convincing when you are standing outside a car in a car park and holding a coat hanger near the window. I wanted to hold up a big poster that said, 'it's my car actually,' in response to all the looks of suspicion glanced in my direction by the cavalcade of motorists hurrying to work. Still, the whole thing was over in about a minute, hardly a record for breaking and entering an Allegro but I felt pretty pleased with myself in a strangely inverse kind of way. It was almost part of growing up, like part of my initiation into adulthood, my passing from a naive teenager into a man of the world. Yes I had broken into a car and nobody could lay a finger on me for doing it. Anyway, twice more I had to perform the same task, once on another car of my own, though I discovered that German cars take a little bit more effort than British ones and then one day I was able to use my well honed skills to rescue a damsel in distress, though I was slightly distressed about the danger of damaging her metallic paint during the process.
Since those days, with the advent of central locking using the key, such dangers are unlikely. But I now find that when I am locking the doors of my car by pressing the button on the key, I probably do it on average, about three times just to see the indicator lights flash and put my mind at rest that the doors are definitely not open. And today my lingering could have saved someone's life. We had just parked in another car park with the intention of getting some groceries in the late afternoon and wife had walked on slightly ahead while I checked just a couple more times that the indicators were giving me the go ahead to leave the car. But just as I made my way across the park towards the shops what should be rolling down the incline towards me only a shopping trolley, without any brakes or flashing lights but with one very concerned looking toddler sitting on board and an even more stressed looking female chasing some yards behind. A quick calculation in my head assured me that the speed of the trolley was greater than that of the lady in pursuit and that it would reach the part where cars pass long before the mother could reach it. Brushing past a shiny BMW and redirected by its wing mirror, the trolley and helpless passenger headed straight in my direction and into my arms. Thankfully no car was passing but had I not been there, it would certainly have careered across the park and come to rest rather suddenly against a parked vehicle. At the end, there was a short nervous laugh from the female and a thank you and we all went on our way, but I'm glad I had stopped to check if the car doors were open or shut.
Sometimes I wonder why we are just in the right place at the right time, whether it be stopping a runaway shopping trolley or helping a damsel to open her car and then I remember that even in the simple things in life, God is still in control. I think of how he sent Philip to speak to the Ethiopian and the Gospel goes to Africa, how a shepherd boy just happened to be coming to see his brothers and Goliath is defeated. I think of Joseph who ended up as a slave in Egypt but saved the country from starvation and Ananias who live in Straight Street, Damascus just when Saul needed to get his sight back. And God continues to send those to us, sometimes with just a chance remark, or a text message, a phone call or a word of encouragement and often we find ourselves in the same position where our past experiences or our faith help us to help somebody else in their time of need. And doesn't Jesus say of His followers, 'For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.' That's what it is to be open for God, to meet someone else's needs, not out of any duty but because we are filled with the same love and compassion that Jesus shows us, walking in His likeness. The question is, when God opens those doors, are we ready to walk through?
