It’s hard sometimes to be grateful for anything that happens to us in the darkness of the dungeon of our difficult times. But this morning God graced me with a memory from my time in the pit and gave me a little object lesson.
A year or so before the Texas State Parole Board sent me home in time for the holidays, I caught a break that quite possibly kept that eventual parole possible. A prison guard escorted me and my co-workers in the kitchen back to our block after we dished out chow for our fellow inmates. When we stopped to be searched before the door to our cage could be opened, I noticed the guard on the keys eyeing me in a strange way.
I had never had any problems with this particular officer, but my stomach still did it's best contortionist impression. I knew something was up. Woodard, step out, he said.
I stepped back out of line and stood with my hands behind my back as he let the others into the day room. I felt like I was deflating as my chest tightened and I fought the urge to crumble. Hopelessness set in when the guard said, I guess you weren't expectin' to be on the shakedown list today, with a look that said he was thinking the exact same thing that I was. What I was thinking was how could I have been so stupid?
The second he said shakedown I knew what happened. I had been drinking a little, preparing to pull my shift in the chow hall when the guard who escorted us to and from work showed up a little earlier than usual. I screwed the lid back on the all-purpose cleaner bottle I'd rinsed out and used to keep my drink in and stashed it quickly behind my bunk. If no one entered my rack, there would be no problem, but I wouldn't have called it hidden. Busted,
The guard took me over to the cat walk and pulled out my bottle. He showed it to my escort joking about how it'd basically been right out in the open. My boss looked at me like he wanted to smack me in the head. He reminded me of my mother a little at that moment, and then to my surprise he acted like a parent. P. asked E. to let him handle things, he said I was one of his workers and he'd appreciate it. E. looked at me, shook his head, said something about how I'd never given him any problems so why not? He handed the bottle to P., who then escorted me towards the holding area for disciplinary cases.
He asked me what I had been thinking leaving the bottle out like that, and in true alcoholic fashion I blamed him. If he hadn't shown up early I'd have had time to hide it better and wouldn't have gotten caught. He looked at me like I was an idiot, and today I understand why. At the time though I believed my answer true and solid. He talked to me for a few minutes, the gist of the conversation being that if I ever got caught like that again he'd personally make my life unbearable. He poured the contents of the bottle into the toilet and wrote me a warning contraband case for the empty bottle. No alcohol mentioned anywhere in the paperwork. Then he sent me back to my cell. I never heard anything else about it.
I screwed up. He covered for his own and let it go. I still don't really know why, other than grace. At the time I had little gratitude. Of course I felt glad that I wasn't in trouble, but I felt too angry at losing my liquor to appreciate it. I actually believed he should have let me keep it somehow if he was going to let me off the hook at all. Today I am grateful for the mercy he showed, but that's not the point.
What is the point? The point is that this prison guard, who proudly wore the symbol of his pagan beliefs every day, gave me an example of God's grace and love. I've screwed up. We all have. For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. The accuser stands before the Father, the Judge, and screams, guilty! And from the side Jesus steps in and says, this one is mine, I've taken care of it.
No it's not exactly the same. Jesus didn't hide anything or break any rules to cover for us. Instead He shed His blood and died for us. He doesn't threaten us with a promise to let us have it next time. He gives us His grace and power to access so that we can become someone different, someone better, than the offender He covered, and if we fall short again, when we fall short again, He forgives.
But we are His. He takes us and makes us clean. He takes our failures, mistakes and rebellion on Himself so that we don't have to pay the debt that we owe. When the accuser tries to hold our sins against us, He's right there saying His blood has covered it all. But Jesus does more than that. He does something that human grace can never do. He gives is the power to change. He sets us free, not only from the law and the accuser, but from ourselves. Our very nature makes it impossible for us to please God and walk according to His ways. But the transformation that comes from being one of His makes us righteous and able to walk with Him, to not only be but to act like a child of God.
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