During the ten years I spent working for various radio stations, I saw these scene numerous times. After all, radio stations try to bribe people to listen. They offer money, prizes, and all sorts of excitement just ot keep people listening or to get them to show up at a radio station event. Often those events brought out some real gems.
I had been at this new car dealership for about an hour and a half with free hot dogs, drinks and balloons for the kids. The guy at the grill had gone through all the hot dogs on hand and since the appearance was almost over, he didn't go out to get any more. Then a man walked up to me at the radio station van. He wasn't shabbily dressed or anything, but he smelled like he hadn't bathed in a few days.
The man said, "I wanted to get a couple of hot dogs."
"Sorry, but we're all out," I explained.
"But you said on the radio that if I came down here you'd have free hot dogs, and I want mine!" he countered.
"Um, if you listened, you know I said 'while supplies last' when I was talking about the hot dogs. We had a whole bunch during the last hour and a half, but now we're all out. Sorry about that."
It was at point the man started shouting at me about me telling him lies and him wanted what I promised him. Eventually he stormed off.
That scene happened for a hot dog, for a t-shirt, and for an album or cassette (it's been a few years ago). I was yelled at for giving someone the wrong size free t-shirt, for giving away a tape the person already had. Some people really appreciated the free gifts. Others felt cheated by receiving something for free.
I realized back then that being given something for free didn't mean a person would appreciate the effort. It would be easy even for me to complain about a free gift. I've received birthday and Christmas gifts that I didn't like, maybe because it was the wrong color or it just didn't suit me. I probably wasn't very appreciative that someone gave something to me as a present.
I was having a discussion last week about this very phenomenon. Do most people appreciate a gift received? What about a benefit received from a church or a service organization? What about from the government?
Our church typically collects money in a fund and then gives it to people we know are in need, whether they are part of our congregation or not. There are plenty of stories of people needing $300 desperately, then our check for exactly that amount is enclosed in a card. God works miracles through us, and the recipient understands that and is truly grateful. From my understanding of Scripture, that's one of the things a church is supposed to do.
While debating whether or not a government should be giving things away, I tried to play things out in my mind. I've got to admit, I've rarely seen any appreciation for a government check. I've seen plenty of people angry when the check was a day late, though. It seems like a "regular gift" can quickly deteriorate into an expected right.
In my area there are many people out of work. Around one in ten people in this county are jobless, many recently losing positions due to plant closings or other issues. While not every displaced worker does this, a large majority of them plan to remain on unemployment as long as possible. They are not even considering looking for another job until the unemployment checks have all but dried up.
"I've got 18 months of benefits coming? I'll look for work in about 18 months... not before."
They do not appreciate the benefits. They consider them something they deserve. Some of those folks are simply getting what they paid in... for a while. But they want to get paid for doing nothing. Again, not everyone, but more than I would have thought.
I know farmers who own ground they do not farm. The government pays them not to use that land in some sort of federal program. They get paid for doing nothing, much like a welfare payment. Is that right? Does it fit with a Christian worldview?
My observations lead me to believe that this isn't how Christ would have us operate. The New Testament tells us that every person who is able should work. The church takes care of the widows and orphans. I think there is an important distinction there. When the church (or for that matter a private, secular social agency) provides, there is more appreciation from the recipient. Their heart is in it. When the checks come from a faceless entity, it's too easy to feel entitled to them rather than thankful for them.
But I'm not simply griping about people who get free benefits. Some of those government benefits come from me. Now I realistically don't feel any too wonderful about giving that money when I don't have a choice in the matter. The Lord loves a cheerful giver, right? And I have no problem giving. But when it is simply taken from me, my heart isn't in it.
With all that, I wonder if the current way our government does things is more like giving us all a cardioectomy -- taking our hearts out of the whole process. I don't want my gift taken forcibly and the recipient feels like it's not a gift, but an entitlement. No heart.
I want those who need taken care of to be taken care of. But by the same token I don't want them like the guy demanding a free hot dog or the guy complaining that his t-shirt is too big. Maybe that's foolish on my part. But I do know that I want my heart to be in every gift and sacrifice I make for someone else. Anything else is simply going through the motions.
Thoughts?
Thursday, November 06, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Yo hablo Inglés
I do remember 1977. Not every bit of it, of course. But I have my selective memory retention intact. The Late 70’s Memory File was reopened this morning when I heard my two teenage sons speaking Spanish. The younger boy was hurriedly running through various Spanish words and phrases in preparation for what I can only assume was a test of some sort in Spanish class. My older son, who completed two years of Spanish, was busy peppering his brother with more foreign terms, probably only serving to confuse the whole situation. Mixed in with the dialogue was the giggling of my first-grade daughter who just thought the boys sounded pretty silly.
With this odd mix of United Nations and slumber party running through my ears, I thought back to 1977. I was a freshman in high school taking Spanish I under the tutelage of Mrs. Kaye-Smith. We had the technologically-superior classroom, with trays of headphones that descended from the ceiling at the press of a button so we could learn our second language with the help of a state-of-the-art reel-to-reel tape recording.
I thought back to what I learned during those sessions. I learned basic words and phrases. I learned to conjugate verbs. And I learned how to create feedback in a pair of headphones.
I began to think to myself that I really should learn a second language. Spanish would be the most obvious choice since I already had a head start — a year of Spanish! Maybe I could pick up one of those “Muzzy” videos or a set of CDs for the car or even some computer software. My heart started to pick up the pace as I realized that I could certainly build on that year of headphone-enriched language skills. All it would take to be fluent in Spanish would be taking the time to study and memorize and learn and practice and…
Then I remembered 2008. “I don’t have time to do all that!” I reminded myself. “It’s all I can do to find time to mow the lawn and buy gas before the price changes.”
Sadly, that’s the way yet another brilliant inspiration ended. There in the driver’s seat of my car, my future as a bilingual quickly died. I could probably pull it off but it would mean dedication, sacrifice, and well, work. The ability to speak Spanish just isn’t a big enough reward for me to use up my spare time to achieve the goal.
It didn’t stop there. Oh, no. Once my mind starts filing through the memory banks, it apparently can’t stop. I was reminded of many other goals, promises, vows, and New Year’s resolutions that had suffered the same fate as my mastery of the Spanish language. Whatever happened to the closet I was going to build? What about starting that online business? And what happened to the whole exercise every day and get myself in shape promise?
I know most people have encountered the same experience. You set that goal of walking or running a mile every day, and the first five days go incredibly well. Then on Day Six it’s raining pretty hard and the decision has to be made. The real decision happens on Day Seven after missing a day and wondering if it’s all worth starting again.
I know people who set goals and try to stick to them. Read the Bible every day. Take self-defense classes. Stop smoking. Learn Spanish. Some people succeed. My dad gave up smoking cold turkey, an accomplishment I attribute mostly to his stubborn streak.
Many of the rest of us fall flat after some initial success. I think it comes down to, as one of my old coaches used to say, “How bad you want it.” If I see the goal as important enough, I’ll buckle down, make the sacrifice, put in the effort, and eventually succeed. If I am not convinced that achieving the goal is that big of a deal, I might as well wear a t-shirt that reads, “Quitter” across the front.
Others don't even try, not out of an inability to do something, but either a fear of failing or an overwhelming laziness. I have talked to many, many people about their need to read the Bible. I am convinced that it is the major way God communicates His truth to us. Yet far too many Christians refuse to make it a habit.
"I don't read very well."
"I don't like to read."
"I don't have time to read."
"I fall asleep when I read."
I've heard 'em all. But no matter the excuse, no matter the reasoning behind the failure to crack open the Good Book, it comes down to the question of how badly we want to do it. And, truth be told, far too many Christians don't see a real value in reading and studying Scripture. If we did believe it was important and we would get something out of it, WE WOULD ALL BE DOING IT!
As I drove this morning with the echoes of conjugated Spanish verbs still ringing in my ears, I understood that my mastery of Spanish will never go much beyond a Mexican restaurant menu. I don't value that skill enough to pull away from my fears or my limitations or my laziness. What we value, we will try to accomplish. And with God's strength, we can accomplish anything. Even reading, studying, and finding joy in a centuries-old Book.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Crying at Wal-Mart
My daughter loves to have slumber parties. Being a six-year-old girl, it kind of goes with the territory I realize, but this really seems to be exciting for her. These attempts at sleepovers haven't always gone well. We have had to call the parents of a none-too-happy girl to come pick up their crying and homesick daughter on a couple of occasions. But usually everything goes smoothly.
Earlier this spring my daughter wanted to have the mother of all slumber parties. We eventually talked her into scaling it back to just four other girls from the original invitation list of the entire county. The girls mostly all got along well and were typical talking, giggling six-year-old girls.
The whole scene was working very well. The potential problem we had to watch for was from little Rachel. Two days before the sleepover Rachel found out that her mommy and daddy were separating and that daddy was moving out of the house. Her mother told us that Rachel had naturally been upset, but she was so looking forward to the sleepover that she was fairly certain she would be alright with all the other girls.
Everything was moving along well. My brave wife, bless her heart, decided we needed to pick up a few things. So we loaded up the truck and took the whole gaggle of giggling six-year old girls to Wal-Mart. It was a high time for the soon-to-be kindergarten graduates, let me tell you. They were involved in picking out shoes that the boys would like them to wear, and choosing entire ensembles, and basically acting like they were ten years older than they were. Six going on sixteen times five. My wife was browsing through the aisles and I was mostly trying to keep the whole herd in the same general area until the shopping stopped.
Then I heard it. I didn't see how it started, but I saw what was happening. It was little Rachel, eyes awash in tears, wailing and sobbing. My wife, her motherly instinct taking over, immediately swept Rachel up in her arms, asking, "Honey, what's wrong? What's wrong?"
The sobbing continued for a minute or two, maybe. Then finally little Rachel was able to form words. Those words sent a chill down my spine.
"I want my daddy back!"
I looked at this tiny girl, her body shaking and convulsing with tears. I looked at my wife, her eyes had started to well up. I had to turn away. The tears were running down my cheeks, one after another. With the drama being played out in front of the other girls, including my own daughter, I didn't want to break down. I wanted to be strong for them somehow. I couldn't.
I turned and walked quickly up and down the shoe aisle, rubbing my hands across my face as if to try to push the tears back into the ducts. My heart was breaking for this little girl. In the teary eyes of little Rachel, I saw my own daughter. "What would it be like for her if my wife and I separated?" I thought to myself. "Would it be my own little girl sobbing and crying her heart out at Wal-Mart?"
My daughter greeted me when I got home last night with so much love. "Oh, Daddy, I haven't seen you all day!" she told me. We had some special cuddling time on the couch. She colored me a picture. She chose me to tuck her in. She said, "I love you very much, Daddy."
I love you too, darling.
Earlier this spring my daughter wanted to have the mother of all slumber parties. We eventually talked her into scaling it back to just four other girls from the original invitation list of the entire county. The girls mostly all got along well and were typical talking, giggling six-year-old girls.
The whole scene was working very well. The potential problem we had to watch for was from little Rachel. Two days before the sleepover Rachel found out that her mommy and daddy were separating and that daddy was moving out of the house. Her mother told us that Rachel had naturally been upset, but she was so looking forward to the sleepover that she was fairly certain she would be alright with all the other girls.
Everything was moving along well. My brave wife, bless her heart, decided we needed to pick up a few things. So we loaded up the truck and took the whole gaggle of giggling six-year old girls to Wal-Mart. It was a high time for the soon-to-be kindergarten graduates, let me tell you. They were involved in picking out shoes that the boys would like them to wear, and choosing entire ensembles, and basically acting like they were ten years older than they were. Six going on sixteen times five. My wife was browsing through the aisles and I was mostly trying to keep the whole herd in the same general area until the shopping stopped.
Then I heard it. I didn't see how it started, but I saw what was happening. It was little Rachel, eyes awash in tears, wailing and sobbing. My wife, her motherly instinct taking over, immediately swept Rachel up in her arms, asking, "Honey, what's wrong? What's wrong?"
The sobbing continued for a minute or two, maybe. Then finally little Rachel was able to form words. Those words sent a chill down my spine.
"I want my daddy back!"
I looked at this tiny girl, her body shaking and convulsing with tears. I looked at my wife, her eyes had started to well up. I had to turn away. The tears were running down my cheeks, one after another. With the drama being played out in front of the other girls, including my own daughter, I didn't want to break down. I wanted to be strong for them somehow. I couldn't.
I turned and walked quickly up and down the shoe aisle, rubbing my hands across my face as if to try to push the tears back into the ducts. My heart was breaking for this little girl. In the teary eyes of little Rachel, I saw my own daughter. "What would it be like for her if my wife and I separated?" I thought to myself. "Would it be my own little girl sobbing and crying her heart out at Wal-Mart?"
My daughter greeted me when I got home last night with so much love. "Oh, Daddy, I haven't seen you all day!" she told me. We had some special cuddling time on the couch. She colored me a picture. She chose me to tuck her in. She said, "I love you very much, Daddy."
I love you too, darling.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Full Moon Fever
I'm inside tonight. It's raining. But for the past two nights it's been hard to escape the great outdoors. For me it was the call of the full moon.
Two nights ago I looked up and noticed that giant orb of reflected light. Before I went to bed around midnight, I had to go outside for a while. In the place I live there aren't a lot of artificial lights. There is a lot of farmground surrounding me, and at this time of the year the crops are all cut. The land is flat, the trees are few, and that night it was brighter than twilight from only the light of the full moon hovering overhead.
It's a odd look at midnight with the bright light of the full moon illuminating the lawn. Things are easy to detect when a normal night hides them well. Light in the darkness.
Last night was mostly cloudy. But I knew where that moon was. Clouds blew slowly across the sky, but the clouds were of different densities and didn't control every inch of the sky. From time to time I could make out the arc of the moon as it stood silently, waiting for the clouds to pass. Soon it would be covered in clouds again -- thick, purplish-black clouds that gave no hint of the light coming from behind them.
But even when the full moon was blocked, some of the thinner clouds were reflecting the light. With a bit of study, I could figure out exactly where the moon was by concentrating on where the light was brightest. Even when I couldn't see the moon, I saw light.
I am a servant of the Light. But there are plenty of times when I simply cannot see the Light. For one reason or another, He has hidden himself from me, wanting me to continue to seek and lean upon Him. But I cannot see the Light.
Yet even when the Light is hidden behind the darkest clouds, I still see light. The reflection of His light is apparent in so many places. The people around me. My family. An answered prayer. A word of encouragement. A dark night lit by a full moon.
Like last night, not even the darkest of clouds hides all of the Light. But sometimes I have to study the situation and concentrate on the Light to see the Light.
In these days when the clouds seem much more abundant than clear skies, I am so grateful that He cannot be completely hidden.
Two nights ago I looked up and noticed that giant orb of reflected light. Before I went to bed around midnight, I had to go outside for a while. In the place I live there aren't a lot of artificial lights. There is a lot of farmground surrounding me, and at this time of the year the crops are all cut. The land is flat, the trees are few, and that night it was brighter than twilight from only the light of the full moon hovering overhead.
It's a odd look at midnight with the bright light of the full moon illuminating the lawn. Things are easy to detect when a normal night hides them well. Light in the darkness.
Last night was mostly cloudy. But I knew where that moon was. Clouds blew slowly across the sky, but the clouds were of different densities and didn't control every inch of the sky. From time to time I could make out the arc of the moon as it stood silently, waiting for the clouds to pass. Soon it would be covered in clouds again -- thick, purplish-black clouds that gave no hint of the light coming from behind them.
But even when the full moon was blocked, some of the thinner clouds were reflecting the light. With a bit of study, I could figure out exactly where the moon was by concentrating on where the light was brightest. Even when I couldn't see the moon, I saw light.
I am a servant of the Light. But there are plenty of times when I simply cannot see the Light. For one reason or another, He has hidden himself from me, wanting me to continue to seek and lean upon Him. But I cannot see the Light.
Yet even when the Light is hidden behind the darkest clouds, I still see light. The reflection of His light is apparent in so many places. The people around me. My family. An answered prayer. A word of encouragement. A dark night lit by a full moon.
Like last night, not even the darkest of clouds hides all of the Light. But sometimes I have to study the situation and concentrate on the Light to see the Light.
In these days when the clouds seem much more abundant than clear skies, I am so grateful that He cannot be completely hidden.
Thursday, October 09, 2008
Empty
I haven't visited here much lately. Sorry if there's anyone around still checking in on me. I plan to do better once again.
You see, the thing is, Attention Span has always been a great outlet for me to pull some thoughts together that have inspired and encouraged me. I like to use Attention Span to help fill others with what God has filled me with.
Funny thing happened to me... I hit the spiritual "empty" point. I had nothing much to give. I started a few blog posts, but didn't finish many. There just wasn't much inside.
As a pastor, that kept me from being what God wanted me to be. Preaching was difficult. My daily life was also. Life was pulling me down, and I wasn't leaning on Him as I should.
God is merciful. But I do get reminders not to start thinking I don't need to lean on Him. I'm not that strong, and I realize that.
At this point, God is beginning to fill me again. My life isn't perfect... far from it. I still have major issues to deal with at church, at work, and at home -- especially in my Christian walk. I guess maybe I had many of those issues before but didn't want to admit it.
I have been incredibly blessed. My wife is wonderful. Having her by my side means so much. There was a time I took her for granted. Not anymore.
My children are constant challenges, especially with two teenagers, but they bring me so much joy. I am really enjoying watching them mature (albeit slowly) each and every day.
My calling as a pastor is both a blessing and a curse sometimes. Often I feel like Solomon, realizing I need wisdom to care for God's people.
I have many other blessings too. We have so much. I've found friends both old and new. We have the support of family. And God is granting direction. It's still a little fuzzy, but it's coming. I'll be patient.
More than anything, God is filling me, slowly but surely.
"Lord, pull me to You. I am weak, but You are strong. Fill me and use me to Your glory. And thank You for the strength You have provided... strength that I could count on when I had no other way to stand. Thank You for being so patient with me. Amen."
You see, the thing is, Attention Span has always been a great outlet for me to pull some thoughts together that have inspired and encouraged me. I like to use Attention Span to help fill others with what God has filled me with.
Funny thing happened to me... I hit the spiritual "empty" point. I had nothing much to give. I started a few blog posts, but didn't finish many. There just wasn't much inside.
As a pastor, that kept me from being what God wanted me to be. Preaching was difficult. My daily life was also. Life was pulling me down, and I wasn't leaning on Him as I should.
God is merciful. But I do get reminders not to start thinking I don't need to lean on Him. I'm not that strong, and I realize that.
At this point, God is beginning to fill me again. My life isn't perfect... far from it. I still have major issues to deal with at church, at work, and at home -- especially in my Christian walk. I guess maybe I had many of those issues before but didn't want to admit it.
I have been incredibly blessed. My wife is wonderful. Having her by my side means so much. There was a time I took her for granted. Not anymore.
My children are constant challenges, especially with two teenagers, but they bring me so much joy. I am really enjoying watching them mature (albeit slowly) each and every day.
My calling as a pastor is both a blessing and a curse sometimes. Often I feel like Solomon, realizing I need wisdom to care for God's people.
I have many other blessings too. We have so much. I've found friends both old and new. We have the support of family. And God is granting direction. It's still a little fuzzy, but it's coming. I'll be patient.
More than anything, God is filling me, slowly but surely.
"Lord, pull me to You. I am weak, but You are strong. Fill me and use me to Your glory. And thank You for the strength You have provided... strength that I could count on when I had no other way to stand. Thank You for being so patient with me. Amen."
Monday, June 16, 2008
Anni-Birthday
I haven't posted as often as I would like, but I had to make a brief stop tonight. Tomorrow my wife and I celebrate our 19th wedding anniversary as well as my wife's 39th birthday. It's her Anni-Birthday and it's always a special time.
I have often wondered what I did to deserve a wife like I have. The truth is, I could do nothing to merit the affection of this wonderful woman. She amazes me each and every day. She has such a never-say-quit attitude that I have found her doing things I didn't think she'd ever do. Yesterday she was helping me change the headlight in her car, getting grease all over her hands and her cute little face. She was something to behold.
Words cannot describe how I feel about her. She married me on her 20th birthday, without getting the chance to live life as a single person. I know that many times she wishes she could have experienced being out on her own, but personally I'm glad God worked out the timing the way he did. I was in a sad state before I met her, and I'd be nothing without her today.
A lot of things have changed in our relationship over the years. Just over the past year, we've been through a lot. I truly admire her courage and her sacrificial attitude. I marvel at her willingness to beat the problems she has been given. And I am ever so grateful that she is by my side as my wife.
As we begin our 20th year of married life tomorrow, I have little idea what the next 12 months will hold. I sincerely hope the ride is less eventful than the past 12 months have been. There are all kinds of options open to us. But whatever God brings into our lives, I want her there beside me for the rest of our lives.
I love you, darlin'.....
I have often wondered what I did to deserve a wife like I have. The truth is, I could do nothing to merit the affection of this wonderful woman. She amazes me each and every day. She has such a never-say-quit attitude that I have found her doing things I didn't think she'd ever do. Yesterday she was helping me change the headlight in her car, getting grease all over her hands and her cute little face. She was something to behold.
Words cannot describe how I feel about her. She married me on her 20th birthday, without getting the chance to live life as a single person. I know that many times she wishes she could have experienced being out on her own, but personally I'm glad God worked out the timing the way he did. I was in a sad state before I met her, and I'd be nothing without her today.
A lot of things have changed in our relationship over the years. Just over the past year, we've been through a lot. I truly admire her courage and her sacrificial attitude. I marvel at her willingness to beat the problems she has been given. And I am ever so grateful that she is by my side as my wife.
As we begin our 20th year of married life tomorrow, I have little idea what the next 12 months will hold. I sincerely hope the ride is less eventful than the past 12 months have been. There are all kinds of options open to us. But whatever God brings into our lives, I want her there beside me for the rest of our lives.
I love you, darlin'.....
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Mercy Refused
Please forgive my absence over the past few weeks. I'd like to tell you that I've been traveling hither and yon bringing joy and excitement to one and all, but in truth I've simply been working too much.
As part of my work, I find myself in courtrooms from time to time. No, I'm not in trouble or going through a divorce. But I do get to see a variety of people at crisis points of their lives. Some are sorry for what they've done and some are not. For a few, a court date is simply an inconvenience while for others it's a chance to get out of the cell and see some new surroundings. But with all the differences, the process is almost always the same and the variety of personalities all end up facing the justice they'd rather avoid.
This week I saw something different... truly different.
She didn't look like all the rest, but she didn't look out of place either. 26 years old. College graduate. Facing four felony counts. And she was smiling, even joking with her attorney a couple of times. When the hearing began, I didn't think too much about her attitude. The charges against her were read -- theft, complicity to commit theft, complicity to commit theft, engaging in a pattern of corrupt behavior. Obviously, this young woman had some problems.
The typical process involves a plea bargain. The prosecution agrees to reduce the charges against a defendant in exchange for a guilty plea. It saves the county money because the expense of a jury trial is saved. The defendant usually gets a lighter sentence since the charge against him is less serious. I've seen the whole parade go by dozens of times.
This week the parade took a detour.
During the hearing, it was revealed that this young woman had conspired with another person to steal big-screen televisions out of the local Wal-Mart, then either sell them or return them to another Wal-Mart and collect the money. The lady helped her partner twice to sneak out televisions. Then she stole one on her own. Then the police showed up and the whole thing fell apart. She was charged with four felonies, three counts less serious and one count -- engaging in a pattern of corrupt behavior -- much more serious.
As usual, the prosecution offered a deal. They would dismiss the most serious charge which carried with it a possible 8-year prison sentence if she would simply plead guilty to the three lesser charges and face a possible three years in prison. But this woman refused the deal, and decided to plead guilty to all four charges! Her attorney tried to talk her out of it, but she was determined to plead guilty to all four counts and face a maximum 11 years total and up to $22,000 in fines!
I don't know why this young woman wanted to do this. The difference between 3 years in prison and 11 years in prison is staggering. As I sat in the courtroom, I wondered about her motives. Was she trying to punish herself? Was she trying to make a point about the justice system? Was she just being stubborn? Was she reflecting a recent more awakening in her life? Did she think she'd get a lighter sentence by going through this act?
I couldn't decide. But whatever it was that made her refuse the mercy offered to her, she appeared to be at peace about it all. She was happy facing the full consequences of her actions, and not just getting away with a lesser punishment. Despite the urgings of her lawyer and even the prosecution, she wanted to face all four charges head on.
I think I can really admire her for that. I'm not really sure, as I don't really know her motivation. Still it seems somehow honorable to take full responsibility for one's actions.
But as my mind continued to wander, and I continued to wonder, I realize what I had just witnessed. This woman had refused mercy. That's very unusual in most settings, but not in the realm of Christian witness.
I've known countless people who have refused the mercy offered to them. I've talked to many who seem content facing the consequences for their life of sin, thinking it somehow wrong if they accepted the grace of Christ. There was the old man who saw no reason to accept Christ at his age because it wouldn't seen fair to live as a sinner for almost 90 years, then slip into heaven after one little prayer. There was the lady who realized her sinfulness but wouldn't dream of asking for mercy. She didn't think she was worth it.
I find it odd that refusing mercy is so easily understood when it involves Jesus Christ, but stands out so when it happens in any other walk of life. Perhaps it is a pride issue. Maybe that old man simply didn't want to give up control of his life. Maybe the other lady didn't want to seem hypocritical to others. Could it be that they felt the need to take responsibility for their own actions and didn't want to be obligated to Someone else?
I don't know what will happen with the 26-year-old television thief. I hope she has refused mercy because she feels the moral obligation to take her punishment, and I hope that mercy will still be given by the judge. I'll know in about six weeks. But more than that, I wish that refusing the grace and mercy offered through Christ Jesus wasn't so easy for so many to do.
As part of my work, I find myself in courtrooms from time to time. No, I'm not in trouble or going through a divorce. But I do get to see a variety of people at crisis points of their lives. Some are sorry for what they've done and some are not. For a few, a court date is simply an inconvenience while for others it's a chance to get out of the cell and see some new surroundings. But with all the differences, the process is almost always the same and the variety of personalities all end up facing the justice they'd rather avoid.
This week I saw something different... truly different.
She didn't look like all the rest, but she didn't look out of place either. 26 years old. College graduate. Facing four felony counts. And she was smiling, even joking with her attorney a couple of times. When the hearing began, I didn't think too much about her attitude. The charges against her were read -- theft, complicity to commit theft, complicity to commit theft, engaging in a pattern of corrupt behavior. Obviously, this young woman had some problems.
The typical process involves a plea bargain. The prosecution agrees to reduce the charges against a defendant in exchange for a guilty plea. It saves the county money because the expense of a jury trial is saved. The defendant usually gets a lighter sentence since the charge against him is less serious. I've seen the whole parade go by dozens of times.
This week the parade took a detour.
During the hearing, it was revealed that this young woman had conspired with another person to steal big-screen televisions out of the local Wal-Mart, then either sell them or return them to another Wal-Mart and collect the money. The lady helped her partner twice to sneak out televisions. Then she stole one on her own. Then the police showed up and the whole thing fell apart. She was charged with four felonies, three counts less serious and one count -- engaging in a pattern of corrupt behavior -- much more serious.
As usual, the prosecution offered a deal. They would dismiss the most serious charge which carried with it a possible 8-year prison sentence if she would simply plead guilty to the three lesser charges and face a possible three years in prison. But this woman refused the deal, and decided to plead guilty to all four charges! Her attorney tried to talk her out of it, but she was determined to plead guilty to all four counts and face a maximum 11 years total and up to $22,000 in fines!
I don't know why this young woman wanted to do this. The difference between 3 years in prison and 11 years in prison is staggering. As I sat in the courtroom, I wondered about her motives. Was she trying to punish herself? Was she trying to make a point about the justice system? Was she just being stubborn? Was she reflecting a recent more awakening in her life? Did she think she'd get a lighter sentence by going through this act?
I couldn't decide. But whatever it was that made her refuse the mercy offered to her, she appeared to be at peace about it all. She was happy facing the full consequences of her actions, and not just getting away with a lesser punishment. Despite the urgings of her lawyer and even the prosecution, she wanted to face all four charges head on.
I think I can really admire her for that. I'm not really sure, as I don't really know her motivation. Still it seems somehow honorable to take full responsibility for one's actions.
But as my mind continued to wander, and I continued to wonder, I realize what I had just witnessed. This woman had refused mercy. That's very unusual in most settings, but not in the realm of Christian witness.
I've known countless people who have refused the mercy offered to them. I've talked to many who seem content facing the consequences for their life of sin, thinking it somehow wrong if they accepted the grace of Christ. There was the old man who saw no reason to accept Christ at his age because it wouldn't seen fair to live as a sinner for almost 90 years, then slip into heaven after one little prayer. There was the lady who realized her sinfulness but wouldn't dream of asking for mercy. She didn't think she was worth it.
I find it odd that refusing mercy is so easily understood when it involves Jesus Christ, but stands out so when it happens in any other walk of life. Perhaps it is a pride issue. Maybe that old man simply didn't want to give up control of his life. Maybe the other lady didn't want to seem hypocritical to others. Could it be that they felt the need to take responsibility for their own actions and didn't want to be obligated to Someone else?
I don't know what will happen with the 26-year-old television thief. I hope she has refused mercy because she feels the moral obligation to take her punishment, and I hope that mercy will still be given by the judge. I'll know in about six weeks. But more than that, I wish that refusing the grace and mercy offered through Christ Jesus wasn't so easy for so many to do.
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