“Brother, I want you to consecrate your car,” the bishop said. “There is a new family in our ward and they don’t have a way to get to church. I need you to go pick them up.” When I heard this request, we were serving as mission leaders in the Dominican Republic and owning a car was a rare thing. Those who were fortunate enough to own a car frequently “consecrated” their car to drive others to church.
Nevertheless, I was astonished to hear a bishop make an assignment in this manner. In my experience, leaders generally asked members to serve, and the members sometimes did and sometimes did not respond to the request. My husband, who is serving as a bishop again, is constantly asking members to make sacrifices, asking them to speak in church, to accept a calling, to offer youth rides, to help with hurricane clean up, to work in the Bishop’s Storehouse, to clean the church building. Sometimes they do and sometimes they do not respond to his request. I have wondered, if members who have already made covenants to be consecrated, were reminded of these covenants when invited to serve, as occurred with the bishop in The Dominican Republic, would more often respond affirmatively to the requests.
When you think about it, every request to serve is a request to keep our covenants. If we are asked to accept a church calling, substitute in a class, give someone a ride, minister to the needy, or whatever, the answer will always be, “Yes, of course,” because we have covenanted to respond affirmatively before we were even asked.
The Consecrated Expedition
When our boys were teenagers, I drove a popsicle-green Expedition. It had eight seat belts, a luggage rack on top and a trailer hitch on the back. My husband drove that Expedition to scout camp five summers in a row. It always came back smelling like smoke, sweat and dirt and I kept the windows down for several days before I could stand to roll them back up again. The same Expedition participated in hurricane clean-up every year between June and December. Filled to the brim with chain saws and shovels, the car trekked throughout Florida, Alabama, Georgia, North Carolina, every state within a day’s driving distance of Jacksonville. We filled her back with scores of sandbags to protect properties in the event of a king tide. She rode low on the way back from the sand quarry, her bumper inches from the asphalt, but she fulfilled her mission and delivered the sand.
Canoes were tied tightly to the luggage rack on top of the Expedition for several youth activities. Kayaks were stuffed into her body. The Expedition hauled supplies the years our youth participated in “Trek,” and again when the stake sponsored “Quest.” The Expedition became the Uber for early morning seminary.
Often, we hooked a trailer to the back that was big enough to haul furniture. When immigrants found themselves in apartments without tables or chairs, or sofas or beds we loaded up the trailer and helped furnish their new homes. The back of the Expedition was the same size as a queen-sized mattress, which not only proved convenient when furnishing apartments, and also provided sleeping quarters on several campouts that were drenched in rain.
We loaned out the Expedition on occasion and when she came back with a few bumps and bruises, we figured that added to her character. That the driver’s-side door creaked upon closing simply reminded us of the time a guest-driver backed the open door into a tree.
Our popsicle-green Expedition lasted and lasted. We thought for sure she would give up the ghost at 100,000 miles or perhaps at 200,000 miles. But she kept going and we kept driving her. We changed the oil, went through several sets of tires, and replaced the starter, all the time the engine kept humming. Finally, at 360,000 miles we sold her, and used the money toward buying another Expedition, this time a fancy royal-blue one. However, the royal-blue paint didn’t remain fancy for long because she, too, liked to haul furniture, and sandbags, and chainsaws and people. Our royal blue Expedition lasted as long as her sister, and now we drive a black one.
For a long time we thought we had simply chosen a reliable brand of car to drive. However, nobody we knew got as many miles out of their Expeditions as we did. And nobody worked their cars as hard. We finally realized that these amazing vehicles lasted and lasted, not because of the manufacture, but because they were consecrated. They were consecrated to the work of The Lord, and The Lord increased their capacity to serve, and gave them strength beyond the norm. They blessed hundreds of lives over decades of service, because of a covenant to consecrate our all.
Currently I am considering some of our other possessions–our computers, our phones, the printer, the laminator, my sewing machine, our piano… and I wonder if these possessions will also be blessed as we consecrate them to The Lord.
JeaNette Goates Smith is a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist and a Licensed Mental Health Counselor. She and her husband, Bret, served as mission leaders in the Dominican Republic from 2017-2000. Information about her books can be found at www.smithfamilytherapy.org
