Like this:

For the past three winters, my garage door wouldn’t open in extremely cold weather. One or two days each week this would happen. To remedy the situation, I had to keep clicking the garage door opener, making the door bounce up and down for the little bit of room it was willing to move. Finally after much hoping, praying and clicking, the stubborn door would raise itself all the way.

Desperate for a more scientific method, I discovered a second option: stooping down and—keeping my back straight to avoid a visit to the chiropractor—boosting the door upward as it started moving in that direction. This worked every time, but it also wasted time.

Meanwhile, I tested an array of solutions within the narrow range of my mechanical expertise. I lubricated the drive chain, but that didn’t help. I realigned the sensors with the same non-result. I asked a mechanically gifted friend about it, but he didn’t know what to do.

Finally I concluded that the garage door motor itself needed replacing. Last week I started scanning Home Depot ads for sales, and this week my wife and I started praying about it during our worship time.

The elusive solution finally showed up. It happened the afternoon before yesterday while we were out for our usual walk around the block. A neighbor was unloading a pickup truck with his son. On impulse, I ventured over and asked if they knew what to do with reluctant garage doors. Both of them immediately suggested the same solution, talking at the same time. I needed to give a little twist on the dial that was on the garage door motor, they explained—the one that has an “up” arrow. This would lessen the resistance that kept the door from opening whenever the system got cold.

Upon arriving home, I set up my ladder under the garage door motor and looked for the “up” dial. Ah, there it was. I gave it a twist, and the job was done.

Mission accomplished. But would it work?

Last night the weather got cold (in case you hadn’t noticed). This morning came the big test. You guessed it—the door went up without a hitch. (Otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this blog post.) No muss, no fuss.

Gleefully I kept raising the door up and down, like a little kid playing with a light switch. I could hardly believe it—a problem that had stymied me for the past three winters had been solved in three seconds.

So where am I going with this story?

It’s New Year’s Eve. Like a good Adventist, I’m home with my wife and the cats instead of out partying somewhere. Along with everybody else who’s not getting drunk right now, I’m thinking about the past year and how I can become a better person in 2011. And I’m wondering whether the garage door principle can also work for character development. Is it possible that stuff we’ve struggled with for years might be solved with a simple adjustment in our attitude? Specifically, our attitude toward Jesus?

Maybe that solution sounds simplistic. I realize there are complex spiritual, social and psychological reasons for the stupid things we keep doing to ourselves and to others. But perhaps the solution to our dysfunctions/addictions/habits is not as complex as the analysis is. Consider this Scripture:

“The hour has come for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we first believed. The night is far gone; the day is at hand. So then let us cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. Let us walk properly as in the daytime, not in orgies and drunkenness, not in sexual immorality and sensuality, not in quarreling and jealousy” (Rom. 13:11-13, ESV).

So instead of indulging in drunkenness of one kind or another (like food binges), we put aside our deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. That instruction may sound appropriate and eloquent, but what does it mean in practical terms? The next verse explains:

“But put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires” (verse 14).

We have here a simple formula for success with New Year’s resolutions: “Put on the Lord Jesus Christ.” That is, we invite His presence over every part of our lives—not just forgiving our sins as our Savior; we welcome Him as our Lord, expressing through us His purpose and His power through His presence. For this to happen we’ve got to stop making excuses and allowances for indulging the flesh (e.g., “So what if I just messed up? Nobody’s perfect—give me a break!”)

Sorry, that reaction is too superficial to satisfy the needs of the soul. We don’t need a break—we need Jesus instead of anything and everything that keeps us from being covered by His purpose and power, through His presence.

This sounds simple, and I think it genuinely is. But just because it’s simple doesn’t make it easy. Let’s be honest with ourselves: it’s hard doing the right thing, since we live in sinful flesh that wants to do its own thing. As the old hymn laments: “Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it! Prone to leave the God I love.”

We may find ourselves paralyzed in merely good intentions, like the man Jesus approached one Sabbath morning. This man had been a human doormat in the dust of old Jerusalem for 38 years. Jesus had one simple question for him: “Do you want to be made whole?” (John 5:6).

That seems sort of a silly question. Of course he would!

Well, maybe not. The fact is that humanity all around us (and within us) is allergic to trustful obedience. Jesus doesn’t force Himself through our stop signs. He invites and then He patiently waits.

“Whom are you seeking?” He asked the mob wanting to arrest Him (John 18:4, NKJV).

“Jesus of Nazareth!” they shouted.

He responded quietly yet firmly: “If you seek Me, let these go their way” (verse 8).

If you are open to a creative application of that passage, I can’t tell you what it could mean for your life—but God is able and willing to do that. He has ways of making His will obvious, after we get desperate enough to honestly ask Him about it.

Just like my neighbor the other day. He explained the simple solution for getting my garage door to rise up so my car could be released for service to God. Then I had to act on his instructions. And I’m so glad I did.

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