Innocent

Yesterday was one of the best Saturdays I've had in a long time. Krister and I had planned ahead to make it a day of sabbath - we did laundry and cleaned on Friday evening so our weekly chores wouldn't get in the way of our restful day on Saturday. The next morning we slept in, drank hot tea and read in our pajamas (okay, only I did this part - Krister hates hanging out in his pajamas, as he's more of a get-up-and-go type guy), made cinnamon rolls (the easy kind), then got ready and headed to White Rock Lake for a walk and some more reading. We laid out our picnic blanket by the water and lounged with our books in the beautiful spring sunshine while the breeze played with the trees and the ducks flitted across the water before settling on its glassy surface. It was the kind of spring day that makes you feel that all is right with the world. I closed my eyes to drink in the moment - the pace, the air, the sounds of nature swelling around us. Bikers rode past on their morning excursions. A young couple cradled their newborn against the base of a tree nearby. It was lovely.

It wasn't long before more families joined us by the water and the lovely sounds of springtime were replaced by screaming children and raucous noises of every kind. It made me chuckle, as the noise level grew like some practical joke come to ruin our peaceful outing. My romantic Jane Austen notions of spending the morning reading in the sunshine came to a quick close, but I was determined not to let the harried scene steal away my former peacefulness. After all, sabbath is as much a state of mind as it is a circumstance.

We spent the rest of the day enjoying various relaxing activities and then finally turned on the television for some good 'ole basketball. It may be the sabbath, but it's also the Final Four, and something not to be missed in our household. We debated about what do to for dinner and finally settled on some Red, Hot, and Blue. (On a side note, if you've never been there, you really must go and order their sweet tea - your glass is an actual pitcher - it's the real deal.) We decided to forego the sweet tea and get take-out so we could enjoy our ribs in front of the game. On our way back to our house, potato salad in tow, we had an incident that did what the noise at the park had failed to do - rob us of that sabbath feeling.

We were less than a mile away from our house when a truck in the lane next to us began to swerve into our lane, nearly causing an accident. Krister honked at the truck, as I would have (even though I'm not a big honker) and the driver proceeded to gesture at us out his window and yell obscenities. I was a bit taken aback, as he was the one who was swerving around. He sped off in front of us and soon ended up on our left side, still shaking his arm in the air and yelling. It was quickly growing uncomfortable. Anyone who's had a mishap with someone on the road knows that the goal is not to see this person again after the initial encounter. No such luck. By the time we reached the light the truck had crossed back over to the far right hand lane and, as luck would have it, we ended up stopped right next to one another. This is the part that really pushed me over the edge and stole the last ounce of peace I had accumulated from the day's restfulness. The man began leaning out his window and yelling at us. He decided to raise the bar a bit on the obscenities and was now yelling words I've only heard in the worst parts of the worst movies. My body went into fight or flight mode, adrenaline rushing down through my arms, my pulse quickening. Krister and I stared straight ahead in an attempt to ignore him. This proved to be a difficult task, as I desperately wanted to peek to my right and make sure we weren't in any immediate danger. I fully expected that at any moment he would get out of his truck and try to drag me out of the car, or more likely would pull a rifle out from under his seat and aim it straight at us. Not looking was scary. I realize that probably sounds dramatic, but you were not there. You did not feel the rage, the unreasonable anger coming from this man in the old white truck. I think that was what made it so scary - the fact that this man was acting like a crazy person, unpredictable and irrational.

During the few heart-pounding moments that we sat helplessly stopped at the light under a constant barrage of verbal abuse, I suddenly thought of Christ on the day of his crucifixion. Let me immediately state that I am in no way comparing this experience with that of Jesus' last day. It's just that, I have never been in a situation in which I was completely innocent and yet had someone hating me from the depths of their being. The man in the white truck was clearly drunk, he clearly had issues, and he clearly goes through life (or at least that day) angry at the world for whatever reason. I knew that we were not the source of his anger, but simply the latest victims to cross his path. I felt transported in that moment to the scenes at Golgotha, to the angry mobs who mocked Christ, who spat at him and hated him with their ugly, seething anger. Never has one been more innocent and more hated at the same time. What must he have felt during his last hours, watching from his shameful perch as the vile cruelty of sin took on life in his mockers at the foot of the cross? Mercy. "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." I think Jesus knew that he was not the true source of the anger that day. There are throngs of people out there who are hurting, who feel kicked in the teeth by life and who lash out in anger at a world they can't understand and can't control, a world that hurts too much and loves too little. But Jesus was able to love them even when the pain of sin turned to burning anger in their bellies. I don't know how he did it. My first instinct at that light wasn't to love the man in the white truck. I just wanted to run away. I wanted to sneak around to the passenger side of his truck and let the woman next to him escape, to tell her "you don't have to live like this anymore." I wanted to go back in time and tell his mother to love him a little stronger. But in the next moment, the truck took a right turn and we continued straight ahead, his voice still ringing in my ears.

The other thing ringing in my ears was the voice of the angry mob yelling "Crucify him! Crucify him!" What an awesome savior we have. One who was loving enough to look down on the hatred and feel mercy, one who was powerful enough to crush the grave, to put sin in its place once and for all, to announce to the whole world that the curtain's been torn, the barriers are down, the captives are set free, that grace and mercy have the last word. I'm so thankful that Jesus was brave enough to come around to the passenger side of the truck, to open the door and tell me, "You don't have to live like this anymore."