Engine Lights and Manuals

For me, 2025 was the year of the engine light.

My ancient Toyota has many commendable qualities, but I was on the highway far more than usual last year. Even the most reliable vehicle — and this one has given me some stellar low-cost years — eventually needs aging parts replaced. This car is close to the 200,000 km mark, and all four wheels needed new bearings over a twelve-month period. Those, some brake work and a few other exciting moments pushed me over the $7,000 mark (Cdn) for the year.

Okay, technically, shot wheel bearings trigger the ABS and emergency brake icons, not the engine light. But I saw plenty of warning lights last year, and I quickly tired of them all.

Spiritual Warning Lights

Our study of the book of Judges this week reminded me that the Christian life has very few spiritual warning lights on the dashboard. The Lord provided us with a manual, and he expects us to read it and obey the instructions we find there. Life works better that way. God is not in the habit of repeating instructions endlessly for the chronically disobedient or terminally inattentive. The wisdom of his revelation is a treasure he does not often squander on people who do not value it.

When the Israelite army inquired of God who should go up first to the battle, the Lord answered only the question they asked. He did not shower Israel with unsolicited advice. He did not interrupt their inquiry to say, “Hey, maybe you want to rephrase that.” He did not gently suggest they consider confessing their own sins before heading out to address the sins of others.

Why not? Wouldn’t that have been a nice gesture? Might not a little red warning light on the prayer dashboard have saved, oh, maybe 40,000 Israelite lives?

A Continual Dripping

Possibly, but how seriously would we take the revelation God has given us if we knew that every time we were about to sin, he would pre-empt it by sending us an urgent warning? I suspect we’d take him as seriously as husbands and teenage boys take a nagging wife or mother. We’re used to a stream of non-stop unsolicited advice, so we wait until her volume button hits eleven before responding. That screech tells us something important is coming. The rest just becomes white noise.

Warning lights on the car dashboard are convenient, but we tend to start ignoring them too if they come on all the time. My cousin has a Honda Pilot with all the bells and whistles. That thing has so many lights and noises going off that you can’t possibly pay attention to them all. The vast majority of the notifications are for minor things his next regular maintenance will catch automatically. If he took that car to the mechanic every time he saw a light, he’d be flat broke in a few months. My cousin manages the overkill with a regular maintenance schedule so he doesn’t have to think too hard about what’s lighting up his dashboard at any given moment.

Too Much Information

There is such a thing as too much information. If we already know something, or if we already should know something, the Lord is usually disinclined to nag us about it. The evidence of scripture suggests he is not the micromanaging type. Christians do well to take note.

Four hundred thousand Israelite men gathered against Gibeah to go to war. Do you think every one of them had forgotten the story of Achan? You may recall that Israel went to battle against Ai with unconfessed sin in the camp. Thirty-six men died and three thousand of their fellow soldiers panicked and ran away. It was a debacle, and Joshua was devastated. He tore his clothes, put dust on his head and fell on his face in distress. Why did the Lord abandon his people?

The Lord’s response suggests Joshua should have known without too many discreet hints:

“Get up! Why have you fallen on your face? Israel has sinned; they have transgressed my covenant that I commanded them; they have taken some of the devoted things; they have stolen and lied and put them among their own belongings. Therefore the people of Israel cannot stand before their enemies.”

Hmm. That’s bracing. The Lord has no interest in the prayers of people who are not paying attention to his word. It wasn’t time for prayer, it was time for confession. The guilty party was Achan, and he died for his sins shortly thereafter.

Internalizing the Lesson

By the way, when I say somebody should have remembered Achan, it’s not as if the losing battle at Ai was centuries in Israel’s rear view mirror. Phinehas, Aaron’s grandson, alive when Achan sinned, was still serving as priest when Israel inquired of the Lord about going up against Benjamin. That vivid lesson God had given to Israel — don’t go to war or pray for help when you have unconfessed sin in your company — was no more than a few decades old. The problem was that Israel had failed to internalize it. It should be no surprise to find the second lesson on the same subject more painful and costly than the first.

I have never once listened to a Christian grieve the inevitable loss that accompanies an unequal yoke without hearing something along the lines of “I knew I shouldn’t, but ...”

This being the case, why would we expect the Lord to turn on the engine light for us when we refuse to follow the instructions in the manual?