Knocking The Props From Under Complication

English novelist Graham Henry Greene described children's books of his day: "Behind the complicated details of the world stand the simplicities: God is good, the grown-up man or woman knows the answer to every question, there is such a thing as truth, and justice is as measured and faultless as a clock."

In real life, too, simplicity does have a way of knocking the props from under complication.

After our son called on Saturday to report a car breakdown, I decided to deliver our van to his weekend workplace. A second call Sunday afternoon opened with a question. Will the van run without the serpentine belt? My wary answer masked concerns of an overheated engine.

The squealing belt had burned in two, he reported, right there in the parking lot. No damage was done. Just leave it there, I advised, so I can drive down and replace the belt. Shouldn't take but a few minutes.

The serpentine belt derives its name honestly. Folding into twists and coils, it encircles a batch of pulleys like a python around jackrabbits. But it installs without tools--if you can figure out how judicious folds and tucks put bends in just the right places.

Just in case, I packed tools--and then bought the new belt at AutoZone.

With my head under the hood, the serpentine belt peers out at my puzzled expression. I press it and pull it. No slack. Question: so where is the burned belt, if not the serpentine? Answer: lying in the bowels of the engine compartment like a dead snake. And replacement requires tools.

Once gingerly extracted, this overcooked rubber serpent accompanies me to a different AutoZone to effect a belt exchange. Then the assault begins with the first bolt immediately capitulating to an adjustable wrench. Another, however, demands a deep socket, whether English or metric, I know not.

I consult my toolbox, only to discover a jumble of sockets, wrenches and pliers heaped in hopeless disarray by the last thoughtless user. This grimy mess defies me, and having long ago lost the ability to eyeball sizes, I claw layer upon layer of oily metal, scrounging for the right tool. This takes at least 15 minutes.

But with the simplicity of that single right tool in hand, the problem bolt eagerly surrenders. A five-minute job.

Surely behind the complicated details of my life lurk three simplicities, three perfect tools the Bible aptly fits to my hand for knocking the props out from under every sort of complication. Greene's next description paints them clearly. "Our heroes are simple: they are brave, they tell the truth, they are good swordsmen and they are never in the long run really defeated."

May I introduce these three--irrepressible, indefatigable and often underutilized? "He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God."

They are never in the long run really defeated.

Copyright 2003 James McAlister

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