We moved to Alabama, and I bought a truck. Yea, I know…it’s kinda like saying you jumped from a ledge and surrendered to gravity. Is there really any other option?

I love this truck. It’s big. Way too big, actually. My sideview mirrors are the size of most windshields. And they stick out much like my ears did in grade school, not that they are that much better now. It has a large bed, which implies something much different than saying the same thing about a van. If you are wondering about fuel economy, here are the numbers: dismal highway, and atrocious city.

The truck has none of the power options we’ve all come to expect on our vehicles. For example, it has crank windows. You don’t “put” the windows down, you actually roll them down. My kids think it’s pretty cool, so far. They think I am pretty cool, so far.

This truck doesn’t have power door locks either. No clicker remote to unlock the doors as I approach. That means that when Beth and I go anywhere in it, I “get to” unlock her door first. I need all the help I can get being a gentleman. In all the truck’s primitiveness, it does drive itself to Lowe’s. Kinda nice when ya think about it. Didn’t have to steer or nothin’.

It’s a manual transmission. A 5-speed with a “granny gear.” I’d really like to know how that extra-low first gear got the label “granny gear.” I was told that, unless I’m towing something really heavy, to start off in 2nd gear. Like I said, I wonder at what point did someone associate “towing heavy objects” with “granny”? So far the heaviest thing I’ve hauled is my 15” laptop.

The truck sits up pretty high. I love my freedom of ingress and egress. I don’t grunt climbing out of the driver’s seat like I did with the little car I used to drive. When I was at a car dealership driving a similar truck, I commented on the vehicle’s height and used the words “ingress” and “egress,” to which the car salesman informed me those weren’t proper truck words.

Oh, I have so much still to learn! Take, for instance, the “truck wave.” I found out there really is no literal “waving,” per se; to do so would be a tad overstated for truck owners. So I was told to nonchalantly raise the index finger of my hand atop the steering wheel. Strong displays of emotion are assigned to other fingers.

The last thing I want to say about my truck is, of course, it’s four-wheel drive. Sadly I’ve driven it off road only once and the kids started screaming. Hopefully I’ll be awake the next time so I can enjoy it.

Christmas is rapidly approaching. We celebrate Jesus’ coming to earth. Not merely living among us, Jesus lived as one of us. It’s called “incarnating.” Jesus incarnated – He took on a bodily form. He moved from heaven to earth, incarnating in human flesh.

You move to earth and you get a body. Jesus jumped from the ledge, humbly surrendering to gravity. Incarnating was God’s plan. Was there really any other way?

I wonder what the ingress and egress was like between heaven and earth. When I read the Gospels, I think I heard Jesus grunt. He spun His wheels and got caught in traffic. He forsook His rightful power options when accepting the call to incarnate. His waving to passersby was never nonchalant, yet he received many rude gestures in return. He wisely learned the importance of constantly refueling before his tank was on empty.

Jesus incarnated, and that’s my call, too. I love this calling. It’s big. Way too big, actually. Keeps me leaning on grace.

In light of this calling to Alabama, I’m coining a new term: I’m “intrucknating.” I move to Alabama and I intrucknate. Is there really any other option?