I couldn’t tell you the make, model, or year, but I can tell you it had seen better days and it was about to make my day memorable.  I am guessing it was a Ford pickup built in the 1950s. I think it had once been a beautiful green color, but it was now primarily the color of rust. I know it was a standard four speed that had been used to herd cattle, navigate Montana prairies, and haul a lot more than it was designed to carry. I remember it was sufficiently dented and was missing parts. The floor carpet was long gone, and barbed wire, pliers, and leather gloves were stuffed behind the seat. And, when I had ridden in it, with my uncle, to check fences, we were always accompanied by his dog. 

This jalopy was the perfect vehicle to survive my first attempt at driving. The truck and everyone nearby were fairly safe, because I was too small to give that workhorse its worst treatment, and we were in the middle of a field. I was probably nine or ten – way too young to drive in the city – and my dad would have never encouraged me to do what my uncle was helping me do. 

I sat on the front edge of the seat, straining to see over the dashboard and reach the clutch and break all at the same time. My job was to just let out the clutch and steer straight ahead. I was getting my first opportunity to drive. Truth be told, the only reason I was driving was because all the older people were needed to drive the combine and hay binder, or to hoist and stack sixty-pound bales onto the back of the truck and trailer.  My task was to, at someone’s command, take my foot off the brake and slowly let out the clutch. I was instructed not to push the gas pedal. All I had to do was steer down the row in between hay bales until someone hollered for me to stop. I just needed to remember to push the clutch all the way to the floor before applying the brake. 

It probably was not a memorable day for the rest of the crew, but the day my uncle let me drive that pickup was a big day for me. I had been given an opportunity. I felt trusted; like someone believed in me. I felt some pressure not to mess up, but I also got a taste of being part of something important. It felt like it does when God gives us a chance to be a part of what He is doing. We sometimes feel like we are too small or inexperienced, but He just smiles and encourages us to give it a shot. He gives us an opportunity to be a part of something big and eternal, and He loves it when we do the same for our fellow man.

It is sobering to think that God trusted a dozen men with evangelizing the whole world. These men had not been long in training, but they were big of heart. As Jesus left the earth, He told His disciples and followers to go to Jerusalem and wait for His power. Five hundred of them had an opportunity to be a part of the initial outpouring of His Spirit, on the day of Pentecost. One hundred twenty of them took Him up on the offer. They changed their world. You have the life-changing opportunity to join them!