Ignorance is Bliss
Recently my car started to make a loud, rattling noise. I took it to the dealer and was informed that the noise is something broken inside the engine, essentially a death rattle.
I didn’t know what to do. I began to look for another car, but that was too expensive. I researched the cost of repairs, but that, too, was prohibitively expensive. I considered selling the car, but it was worthless in its present condition; although if I repaired it, I could probably sell it for the cost of repairs. I seemed caught in an impossible dilemma with no way out.
“Well,” I decided, “I might as well just continue driving the car in its broken condition until it dies and deal with it later. Nothing else I can do.”
So I continued to drive the car far and wide as if it had no problems at all. The noise continued to get louder and louder. Although I was terrified of having the car die in the middle of nowhere, I felt helplessly caught, so I simply kept going and apprehensively waited for the inevitable end.
My family urged me to get a second opinion, but being far away from home I knew of no one trustworthy. I continued driving the car and apprehensively waited for the inevitable end.
My son-in-law has a relative who is a mechanic, but his shop is far away and it would be extremely inconvenient to take the car there. Besides, I was unconvinced he could be of help with my particular car’s problem. I continued driving the car and apprehensively waited for the inevitable end.
My son-in-law invited his mechanic cousin over to the house to look at the car, but he canceled at the last minute. I continued driving the car and apprehensively waited for the inevitable end.
Then one evening the mechanic just showed up. I was uncertain about his capabilities and didn’t expect much but felt compelled to humor him since he had bothered to make a house call.
He listened to the engine, felt the vibration, and confidently said without hesitation, “I know that sound. It’s the timing belt idler pulley. I can repair it for a few hundred dollars.”
My heart skipped a beat, “He seems to know his business! Maybe he’s right. There may be hope for the car!” Then he continued,
“But it’s a very dangerous condition. The broken pulley could unpredictably give way any moment and then the entire engine would be destroyed.”
“Will it make it to your shop?” I asked anxiously.
“I don’t know,” he responded,“I’m busy this week, but I could work on it next week.”
All of a sudden I realized how foolish I’d been. Ignorance is bliss, and I would’ve blissfully driven this car to its death when I could’ve fixed it. But now, because I was informed of the true condition of the car, I was terrified to even turn on the engine, lest the part break and totally destroy it.
I stopped driving the car completely, even though I became housebound for a week. I was not going to drive that car and chance death when I knew the truth. It was quite difficult, but I made it and ultimately got the car into the shop – driving gingerly and nervously the whole way. The mechanic fixed it, and now everything is the way it was meant to be.
Isn’t it interesting? We – every one of us – is just like a broken car because of our sins. But we have no clue of the danger. So we go merrily about our business, thinking all is OK, waiting for the inevitable end.
Then the Master mechanic makes a house call, gives us an accurate diagnosis, and tells us we are broken but fixable – just like my car. If we truly believe the Master mechanic and his diagnosis, understand our broken state, and recognize the potential consequences of continuing in that broken state, everything changes. We see the truth, we see the danger, and we do our best to stop driving around in our brokenness – lest we die quickly and unexpectedly. Finally we run to to the Master Mechanic, Jesus Christ, as fast as we can – knowing with assurance that He will fix us. Only then can we continue to go about our business confidently without worry about certain disaster.
…or we can remain blissfully ignorant and just go about our daily business apprehensively waiting for the inevitable end.
All is not as it looks