Westchester High School had two basic problems: it had no air conditioning and it was built right next to the runways at Los Angeles International Airport. That meant on warm days, when there was no ocean breeze from the Pacific Ocean a mile away to cool us down, we had to open the windows in the classrooms. And that meant our teachers had to stop teaching every time a jet took off.
Besides providing me with a staccato education, our proximity to LAX also meant that the first time I drove a car was right in the middle of the chaos of its terminal. The terror of that moment was my driver education teacher’s fault. He piled four of us students into the driver ed car and navigated the first tentative student driver to the entrance of LAX. Then he had me get behind the wheel and told me to turn right into LAX.
“Here!” I blurted out with the exact same intonation as “Are you crazy?!!!!”
“Here.” He said determinedly, pointing his finger to the right for emphasis.
Crippling fear overwhelmed me. “AGGGGHHHHH!!!!” I thought. I had never before driven a car, and now my instructor was forcing me to turn into what looked like a giant pinball machine.
Somehow – and I really don’t know how – I made it through the U-shaped terminal complex with yellow cabs, crazy shuttle buss drivers, and harried arriving and departing passengers whizzing around me and got spit out the exit unscathed.
I had, without realizing it, just experienced the great American rite of passage into adulthood: driving a car.
Receiving my driver’s license sealed the deal. I was now officially a Car Driver. Soon I was flying around the freeways of Los Angeles in my Datsun 411 like they were an E ticked ride at Disneyland. (You have to be at least 50 to know that the E ticket rides at Disneyland were the coolest rides.) Driving my own car became a part of my identity. It mean’t I didn’t have to ride two city buses to and from school anymore. It made it easier to get to work. And, best of all, it meant I could date girls!
Over the years, cars have become even more a part of my identity. I learned how to work on cars. (I’ve overhauled six engines.) While in seminary I worked as a valet car parker for private parties at the homes of wealthy people in Dallas. That meant I got to drive all kinds of really expensive cars – and meet some exceptionally cool people as well.
But then something happened that changed everything. My wife is sensitive to motion and develops car sickness easily. For years I tried driving as smoothly as possible. But no matter how hard I tried, Patti still struggled. She didn’t have a problem when she drove herself in her own car, only when she rode as a passenger in someone else’s. So it became obvious what I needed to do: ride shotgun and let her drive when we’re both in the car.
So we made the switch and that immediately solved her problem. But I have to admit, it wasn’t easy for me. For months after we made that change I felt like people were staring at me and thinking, “Look at that wuss letting his wife drive him around!” I wanted to roll down my window and shout, “Hey buddy! My wife gets car sick when she doesn’t drive!”
But then something else happened. I realized that God was teaching me an important lesson about “the mind of Christ” that Paul describes in Philippians 2.
In humility value others above yourselves,not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:Who, being in very natureGod, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant,being made in human likeness.And being found in appearance as a man,he humbled himselfby becoming obedient to death,even death on a cross! (Philippians 2:3-8)
What I learned from this whole experience was that having the mind of Christ always – always – involves relinquishing something about your own identity that you highly value. In my case, it was seeing myself as a car driver. It sounds silly now, but it’s really true. The “Herb Reese who drives himself and his family around” had to die so that I could better serve my wife.
So there you have it.
And by the way, if you see Patti driving me around in our car, it’s because she gets car sick if she doesn’t, buddy.
Discussion Questions
- How would you define “the mind of Christ”?
- In what ways has your marriage taught you about the mind of Christ?
- If you are not married, how has God taught you about the mind of Christ in other ways?
- Have you been able to display the mind of Christ at work?
- In what ways have you struggle with having the mind of Christ?