Thursday, July 24, 2014

Gracefully Speeding

“For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God” -Eph. 2:8 First Baptist Church in Branson, the wonderful church where I serve, is in the same neighborhood as the Catholic Church. I love the church next door for one reason: it’s bells. The have an amazing tower where the bells chime hymns throughout the day. My favorite is “Amazing Grace.” As a matter of fact, as I’m writing this, Amazing Grace is playing across the parking lot. It always moves me. Every time I hear it, it stirs my soul. Grace is like that. Any time we’re given something we don’t deserve, it settles our soul. Twenty years ago, we were driving to Fort Worth to visit my mom and were making our way through Ft. Smith Arkansas on Interstate 40. The kids were young and playing in the back of our mini-van and I was cruising along at the posted speed limit, 70 miles an hour. As we neared the Arkansas-Oklahoma state line, a highway patrolman pulled me over. “I need to see your license please sir,” the patrolman said. As I handed it to him, I commented, “I really think I was going the posted speed limit sir.” “No sir, I clocked you at 72 miles an hour”, he responded. I had just noticed the “speed limit 70 miles an hour” sign and at the bottom of the sign it read, “strictly enforced.” Wow. I had no “come back” for the officer. He was 100% correct. I wasn’t speeding by much, but I was speeding. He walked back from his patrol car and said, “I’m giving you a warning today, but slow it down and have a great day.” “Yes sir”, I responded and drove away. I was relieved and frustrated at the same time, but he was right. I was speeding. A few weeks ago, we were in Fort Worth headed to our favorite Mexican food restaurant, Joe T. Garcia’s. I was talking with my brother in the front seat and the ladies were in the back of the car. I glanced in the rear-view mirror to see a patrol car behind me. “He’ll probably pass,” I thought. But he turned on his lights and I pulled over. “You were going 48 in a 35” he said. I couldn’t believe it, but radars don’t lie. “I had no idea,” I said. He ask for my driver’s license and went back to his car. I was hoping for a warning, but he was in the patrol car for over 5 minutes before he returned. I knew I would be paying a huge fine. “Today is your lucky day,” he said. “My ticket writer isn’t working, so I’m giving you a warning.” He drove away and I sat there in shock. Twenty-five years ago, we received a letter in the mail from our bank here in Branson. As we read it tears came to our eyes. Our car note had been paid in full and they thanked us for doing business with them. We thought one of our parents or a friend had paid it for us. We were overwhelmed with gratitude until the call came from the bank the next day. “We made a mistake,” the vice president explained.” “That letter went to the wrong person and we apologize.” We were stunned and disappointed but understood. The common theme in all three stories? Grace. I got what I didn’t deserve. In both speeding stories, I deserved to pay a big fat fine. Sure, I was barely speeding in the first story and really speeding in the second story, but in both situations I was guilty. In story three, I received a gift, but only for a day. Then I was brought back to the reality of my debt. God’s gift of grace trumps any speeding ticket or paid off loan. God offers us His love, period. It’s a free gift. Grace is super complicated in it’s origin but is meant to be super simple in it’s application. We simply accept it. We simply walk in His love. God, through Jesus, tells us we are free. Jesus says to put our faith in Him, accept his free gift of grace, let him love us, then drive away in peace. We should try not to speed because living without boundaries is dangerous, but we need to enjoy the ride as well. Is grace a bit enabling? Yes. Is grace a bit naive? Yes. Is grace real? Yes. Try it on this week. Wear it around for a while. Let it fit who you are. And enjoy the ride… …as it settles your soul. By Eric Joseph Staples ©

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