Lightning McQueen, a young hot-shot racecar, gets lost on his way to a big race in California and incidentally causes major damage to the main road in a small town. The town’s judge, Doc Hudson, holds a long grudge against racecars. He wishes to dismiss the case and force McQueen out of town as quickly as possible, only to be overruled by a clever Porsche, Sally, who rallies the town behind an impassioned speech. Reminding the citizens of their proud history and value as “the glorious jewel on the necklace of Route 66,” she compels the town to make McQueen fix the road. Why? “Because we are a town worth fixing!”
Radiator Springs seems to be nothing more than a fading dot on a lonely road in danger of becoming a ghost town. Sally—who’s common sense is eclipsed only by her idealism—sees something else, longing for the town to be renewed. By the end, that is exactly what has happened. Lightning fixes the road and in due time, Radiator Springs is restored to her former glory, becoming a highly sought-after tourist destination.
At the risk of overthinking the plot, one would think the cars who made that town their home would be better served giving up, relocating to a place where business and opportunity were more favorable. That is, after all, the American way. We abandon and withdraw in the hopes of greener pastures somewhere else.
Unfortunately, that is also a pervasive belief when it comes to biblical eschatology (a study of the “last things”). There are many things Christians universally agree upon: God is one, Jesus is divine, he died and rose again, ascended, and will eventually return (the “second coming”). But there are a variety of opinions with respect to what that “second coming” entails. If Disney cartoons don’t do it for you, perhaps “Left Behind” is more your thing. That popular book and movie series depicts Christ’s return as the believers’ opportunity to evacuate, abandon, and withdraw from the earth. “Rapture” is the key concept: good Christians mysteriously disappear, leaving behind a pile of clothes. Then God takes out his wrath on the evil earth and its evil inhabitants until all that is left is a black hole where our planet used to be.
Were this the plot of “Cars,” once Lightning McQueen destroys Main Street, everyone in town would throw up their wheels and say, “Well, that’s that,” abandoning the home they have come to know and love. As it turns out, they are not a town worth fixing. So set the place on fire and roll the credits.
This is exactly the plot too many theologians teach about the biblical “last things.” Sin entered the world back in Genesis 3, rendering the metaphorical “main street” of our earthly Radiator Springs impassible. Someday we’ll evacuate this world, abandon the town and leave it for the ghosts. In the meantime, we do the best we can until Jesus returns, removes us from this earthly mess and relocates us to some disembodied ethereal bliss. Why? Because, we are NOT a world worth fixing.
Yet throughout the history of Christianity, that has never been the predominant understanding of “last things.” In fact, outside of the Western world (where most present-day Christians live), “evacuation” is not taught. “Left Behind” is a fascinating piece of science-fiction (emphasis on fiction), but hardly a faithful biblical interpretation of the end.
God made the world, and he made it good. He said so repeatedly throughout Genesis 1. The land, sea, sky, plants, animals, mankind—God declared it all “Good.” And the essential “goodness” of creation didn’t die when Adam and Eve shared forbidden fruit. Cursed, yes. Marred with death and decay, of course. Alistair Begg reminds us our lives are marked for death and we should be careful not to cling too tightly to our worldly goods which themselves are subject to rust and moths. We contend with rust, moths, thorns and thistles until we return to the dust from where we were taken. But the physical world we inhabit isn’t any less good.
The resurrection of Christ itself should be all the evidence we need. If Jesus’ plan from the beginning was to abandon the physical world only to evacuate the rest of us at a later date, rising in bodily form makes little sense (see 1 Corinthians 15). He could have shown himself to his disciples as a mere apparition. But he didn’t; instead his dead body was restored to life. The significance of Christ’s resurrection is deep and wide, but at least on one level, it informs us that in spite of death and decay, thorns and thistles, the physical creation is still as good now as it was on the first day he created it.
Any understanding of “last things” that sidesteps this forgets Paul, for whom Christ’s resurrection serves as the firstfruits of more renewal to come:
For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies (Rom. 8:18-23).
Paul personifies the world herself as alive yet hungering to be free from her suffering. Not “free” as in a wounded horse waiting to be put out of its misery, but as in a pregnant mother hoping the baby comes soon. If our idea of heaven involves evacuating the earth to a remote disembodied celestial location where we can watch God shoot the horse, we have misunderstood Paul.
To everyone’s surprise, Disney Pixar’s Cars gives us a better eschatology. The plot runs like this: In Genesis 3 when our first parents shared the forbidden fruit, it was as if Lightning McQueen destroyed Main Street, Radiator Springs. The world becomes impassible and we might think the collective wisdom of the Trinity would decide to abandon the project altogether, set it on fire and relocate. Instead, Sally enters the scene and captures the entire biblical narrative in one line: We are a town worth fixing!
Then, as if pulling up the thorns and thistles, Lightning McQueen tears up the old road to make way for a new and better Main Street. We don’t evacuate our version of Radiator Springs and relocate. We trust Jesus Christ to come and “fix the road” because ours is a world worth fixing. The cursed earth with its thorns, thistles, death, and decay is not abandoned but renewed; we don’t evacuate because the road is torn up, we do our part to make our little corner of Radiator Springs worth living in.
Have you ever wondered why Mary Magdalene mistook the newly resurrected Jesus as, of all things, a gardener (John 20:15)? I like to think it was because after three days resting in the sleep of death, Jesus was on his hands and knees pulling weeds, piling thorns to be burned, planting a tree, or doing some … I don’t know … gardening. He had fixed the road; now it was time to make the rest of “Radiator Springs” worth living in.
Christ’s resurrection from death does not punch our ticket out of “Hillbilly Hell.” Quite the contrary. When Christ rose from the dead (and subsequently did some gardening), it was a reminder that the world was still as good as when God first declared it so, even if it is not yet as good as it will be when Christ returns. It was the first step toward removing from the world its thistles and thorns, death and decay. It was the guarantee for us that death has no power over those who die in Christ. It was a statement that even though it is marred by sin and destruction, ours is a world worth fixing!
Our destiny as disciples of Jesus is not to evacuate our late, great planet earth. Quite the contrary, someday we will walk out of our own tombs following Christ who paved the way, and we will take up residence in a created world that is not abandoned but renewed. Want to take your part in that renewal? Jesus has already done the hard part. Perhaps our response is to fix a road, plant a garden, or do whatever work is necessary to make our corner of Radiator Springs worth living in until Jesus himself returns to finish the job he started.
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