A few weeks ago, on a lovely Saturday morning, I sat down in the kitchen to read the newspaper with a second cup of coffee. It was a fine way, I reckoned, to unwind after a very busy week. But soon I was wound up again.
The Business Section wound me up. I learned of a real estate phenomenon appearing here and there across the country: condominiums for automobiles. ‘Got a personal trainer for your dog?,’ the report queried. ‘A nanny for your cat? There’s one more extravagance that you might not be able to live without!’ You might need a condominium for your automobile.
An appreciative article described a typical condominium: 760 square feet, one-bathroom, custom flooring and cabinetry – sold recently for $212,900 in Fort Lauderdale. No one will live in this lovely air-conditioned space, however. This space is for a car.
Three condominium complexes are under development in southern Florida, with more planned for Arizona, New York, and Las Vegas. Many will offer concierge service. One will offer an onsite photo studio, ‘where owners can commission portraits of their cars.’ One offers ‘infrared cameras that will allow owners to view their cars 24 hours a day.’
Only in America.
Then I turned to another section and was wound up a little more. A front-page article described the phenomenon of ‘pooch parties’ – viz., social gatherings, birthdays and such, for dogs. ‘Always on the lookout for opportunities to socialize my irrepressible cocker spaniel,’ a reporter divulged, ‘I embraced the invitation to the birthday party of Bailey the beagle.’ She went on to report, ‘For the furry friends there were party hats and canine versions of musical chairs and bobbing for apples – with hot dog bites.’ Our local pet shelter hosts pooch parties (including snacks, games, a photographer, and a memorabilia web page) for approximately $200 – a bargain, certainly, when compared to the condominiums.
It was, I suppose, the extravagance that wound me up – and the values and priorities that seemed to underlie these behaviors. I began to make a few mental comparisons. I couldn’t help myself.
The condo sold recently in Fort Lauderdale fetched $280 per square foot approximately. A mere five square feet, I figured, would support a missionary family of four for a month. A modest swath of 312 square feet – still less than half of the condominium’s floor space – would support a single missionary for an entire year. And the pooch parties! Two hundred dollars – gone in a bark and a gulp – is more than some of our African friends live on in a year.
Pretty soon I was feeling downright indignant – a little self-righteous, even. Pooch parties! But then, inexorably, I began to think about myself. After a few last indignant huffs, I began to evaluate the values and priorities evident in my own life.
I will never own a car condo, I suppose; I drive cars until they fall apart and are hauled away. But I do have a car – in fact I have two. I do not own a home, and maybe I never will. But I do have a piano and a guitar. I have a bicycle and a computer. I have time. I have gifts. Do my car and time and gifts count for the sake of Christ and his Kingdom? Do my speech and behaviors reflect his grace? Does my lifestyle communicate his mission in the world? Until they do, I began to feel, I have nothing whatsoever to say to pet partiers or car condo enthusiasts.
I concluded the morning with a hymn – and then, finally, I began to wind down again. ‘All for Jesus’ came to my mind. I am beginning to see, I think, what ‘all’ must mean for me. It is a very big word. It will mean, at very least, my cat. It will mean, certainly, my cars. It will mean my all. What will it mean for you?
(‘More than a parking garage,’ Star and Tribune, May 20, 2006, p.D1; ‘Party on pooches,’ Star and Tribune, May 20, 2006, p.E1.)