The Belarus Lives Again:

Finding value in the unlikely

I have an old Belarus tractor. Built in the former Soviet Union, it was never a high-quality machine to begin with, and time has not been kind to it. My mate Slim reckons it must be one of the last ones still running. The motor is strong and reliable, but everything else—the air cooler, windscreen wipers, gauges, etc.—gave up long ago.

The Belarus has also earned another distinction over the years: it’s indelibly associated with swearing. In fact, I’d wager that more curse words have been hurled at that machine than at any other object I own. It’s the kind of tractor that doesn’t just challenge your mechanical skills. It also challenges your vocabulary, often in colourful, inventive ways.

Most of the serious farmers around here love their John Deere tractors. You know the ones – gleaming green and yellow, GPS steering, air-conditioning, and enough technology to practically run the farm on their own. They glide across the paddocks with effortless precision, the cabins sealed tight against dust and heat, the hum of the engine as smooth as a well-rehearsed symphony.

And then there’s the Belarus. No GPS, no air-conditioning, not even a functioning dashboard. It rattles and wheezes, more character than comfort, the kind of machine that makes you feel every bump and hear every groan, and if you lose concentration the wandering hydrostatic steering will have you breaking down posts and vines. You don’t so much operate the Belarus as negotiate with it—and often, those negotiations involve raised voices and some language you wouldn’t use in church.

The Belarus came to a halt when one of its big back tyres failed. For the past 18 months, I’ve been searching for a second-hand back tyre. A new tyre would cost more than the whole tractor is worth and I can’t justify the cost. Every time I asked around, I’d get a chuckle and a shake of the head. “Belarus? Still running, is it?” I’d hear, but I kept looking, hoping that somewhere, someone had what I needed.

And then, finally, I found one. A second-hand tyre, good enough to keep the old machine going. I got it fitted, and the Belarus lives again. It will always be a third-choice, backup vehicle, but it’s still here, it’s still running, and somehow, that feels like a small victory.

The Beauty in Persistence

There’s something about sticking with things that others have written off. It’s easy to see value in something new, shiny, and efficient. But an old tractor, a struggling friendship, a fading church congregation—these things take more effort. They demand patience and commitment. And yet, when we put in the work and effort, we often find that they still have life left in them.

We live in a culture that moves fast. If something breaks, we replace it. If something is difficult, we walk away. But maybe we give up on things too quickly. Maybe, sometimes, the best stories come from the things that aren’t easy.

Unexpected Grace in the Things We Overlook

Jesus had a habit of seeing value where others did not. He told stories of lost coins, lost sheep, lost sons, reminding people that nothing and no-one was beyond redemption.

And then there were the people he chose to spend time with—fisherfolk, tax collectors, the sick, the outcasts. Society had written them off, but Jesus saw something more. He didn’t discard the broken. He restored them.

One of my favourite moments in the Gospels is the story of Jesus and Peter after the resurrection. Peter, who had denied knowing Jesus three times when things got tough, must’ve thought he’d blown it with Jesus for good. But in the Gospel of John, chapter 21, Jesus meets Peter by the sea, and greets him, not with rebuke, but with a simple, repeated question:

“Simon son of John, do you love me?” Three times Jesus asks Peter, and three times Peter replies, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” Every time, Jesus responds, not with a reminder of Peter’s failure, but with a call to Peter: “Feed my lambs.” “Take care of my sheep”. “Feed my sheep.”

It’s a beautiful picture of restoration. Jesus doesn’t just forgive Peter. He entrusts him with something meaningful. Peter thought he was finished, but Jesus saw that there was still life left in him and there was still work to be done.

The Joy of Keeping Something Alive

There’s a quiet satisfaction in keeping something running when others think it was done for, whether it’s an old tractor, a family farm, a struggling community event. They may not be the most impressive things, but they still matter. They still have a role to play.

The Belarus will never be my first choice of tractor but when I fire it up and hear the engine roar to life—after, perhaps, a few choice words to encourage it—I can’t help but smile. It’s still here. It’s still doing what it was created to do.

Maybe that’s the lesson, really, not just about tractors, but about life itself. When Peter thought he’d blown it for good, Jesus met him by the sea and simply asked, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” And with each ‘yes,’ Jesus asked Peter to do a job for him.

Turns out, even when we think something or someone is past their prime, they’re often still capable of work, and have life left to live. You just have to be willing to give them another chance.

This is the gospel, and it’s good news.

Brian Spencer, Minister, Waranga Uniting Churches