(unedited/draft show notes here, not a totally dialed-in transcript — what a great time to listen, compare, and experience the superiority of the podcast to the text below!)
The plane — with me in it — landed in Houston, Texas. And I was anxious to get off.
I knew I had a ride waiting for me, a ride that was going to take me straight to an important dinner with the board members of an association that had hired me to speak the next day. I’d felt lucky, too — I was able to book a seat that was forward in the plane. Time was going to be tight for getting to dinner on time, and spending less time deboarding from the front of the plane would save precious minutes.
But then…
When it was my “turn” to step into the aisle, a young guy cuts right in front of me with a lurch. There was no “I need to make a connecting flight”, or even eye contact that communicated anything.
“Whatever,” I thought. “Clearly this dingleberry thinks his time schedule is more important than mine. How presumptuous.”
My thoughts didn’t get kinder from there.
This guy then begins an epic struggle, one he was mostly losing, trying to dislodge a bag from the overhead bin, and traffic starts backing up behind us.
While I waited I was head-down, partly to change up the music playlist that was ringing in my ears and partly because I had time to check email and social media (and both of these while drawing ever more impatient).
When we did start moving, you could barely call it moving. One of those moving-not-moving kinds of slowness that didn’t require me to even raise my gaze. We shuffled forward. Barely.
As we left the plane and started up the ramp to the terminal I shifted gears. Time to blow past this driver…but this idiot was driving in both lanes. Walking smack in the middle of the ramp in a way that continued to block me and everyone behind me from passing. Definitely inconsiderate. More unkind thoughts. And then…
I raised my gaze. Bam! It hit me and, well…
I noticed he was limping, and not just “my foot hurts” limping. This was a deformity or birth-defect kind of limp.
I had kinda kept my peripheral vision on his upper body. I didn’t pay more attention because I didn’t need to — we’d been going nowhere fast. And his upper body was upright and steady. But down below his lower body swayed and contorted, accommodating his handicap so as to keep that upper part upright as he walked along.
“Oh God,” I murmured in silent prayer, “forgive me for jumping to…”
“…compassion?” God replied. “You jumped right to compassion, didn’t you? You gave him the benefit of the doubt, because, after all, you know that even if you don’t see someone limp, every single person you meet has something going on in their lives that needs your understanding, right? You immediately jumped to compassion because this guy is someone that I love and made in My image — supposedly through YOU, mind you! — right? And you started from a place of love and compassion just like I taught you, right?”
I was silent. I turned off the music. My low-hanging head was now hanging in shame.
For our Sunday reflection today this got me thinking about an Old Testament story, a story of a King. King David’s story was a beloved rags-to-riches story of a shepherd boy turned hero warrior and gifted poet, a real Renaissance guy some 2600 years before the Renaissance.
Except that he lost his way, too.
You remember the story. David fell into lust with a woman named Bathsheba, beds her, gets her pregnant, and then tries to cover it up by making sure her husband – an honorable guy, no less – got killed in battle.
The whole plot went down in flames, of course, and it took the prophet Nathan calling him out on his junk to bring him to his knees in repentance.
Like any good songwriter, David didn’t let the pain go to waste. Here he is, guilty of both murder and adultery – both capital offenses in ancient Jewish law – and how does he respond?
The song we now read as Psalm 51 begins this way:
Be gracious to me, God,
according to your faithful love;
according to your abundant compassion,
blot out my rebellion.
Completely wash away my guilt
and cleanse me from my sin.
For I am conscious of my rebellion,
and my sin is always before me.
Against you—you alone—I have sinned
and done this evil in your sight.
So you are right when you pass sentence;
you are blameless when you judge. (Ps 51:1-4, CSB)
I imagine David, the greatest of all the earthly Israelite kings, laying prostrate on the ground in a show of complete humility and humiliation. And yet this is the same David that God Himself spoke about through the prophet Samuel, calling him “a man after God’s own heart.” Why? Because of his awesomeness? No, because he acknowledged his brokenness before the only one who could save him from himself.
The Good News, my friends, is that there is no one beyond the reach of God’s lovingkindness. Not David, not me, not you. Realizing this, David’s sings a song of remorse that he has ultimately wronged someone who loves him more than is imaginable. He knows what he deserves. And you can hear his heart breaking as he sings the first line, “Be gracious to me, God.”
The reminder in this story of David is that all are broken, all are welcome, and all are called to repentance. No one’s sin is exempt, but grace is available to each and every person.
Even for those who abuse their power.
Even for those whose pride keeps them from acknowledging their need.
Even for those whose pain keeps them drinking at the well of self-medication.
Even for those who think they’re off the hook because it was just a little white lie. Or just a little bit of gossiping behind someone’s back.
Even for those whose secret sin isn’t known by anyone else.
And even for a guy on an airplane jumping to conclusions about a guy who cut him off in the airplane aisle.
This guy had stumbled in front of me because it was, in fact, a stumble. And he probably heard every word I didn’t say.
But God did. And it was like I could hear His heart break at my failure. I could hear Him asking me, gently, “Did you jump to compassion or jump to conclusion?”
“Guilty as charged,” I whispered under my breath. “I most definitely did NOT jump to compassion. Be gracious to me, O God.”
And then came his reply: “I love you, Roger. Now go and do likewise.”
ForTheHope is a daily audio Bible + apologetics podcast and blog. We’ve got a passion for just keepin’ it real, having conversations like normal people, and living out the love of Jesus better every single day.
Roger Courville, CSP is a globally-recognized expert in digitally-extended communication and connection, an award-winning speaker, award-winning author, and a passionately bad guitarist. Follow him on Twitter -- @RogerCourville and @JoinForTheHope – or his blog: www.forthehope.org.
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