For the person who keeps all of the laws except one is as guilty as a person who has broken all of God’s laws. [James 2:10 (NLT)]
Last January, an official in a northern city was found guilty of twenty counts of bribery, extortion, and conspiracy along with mail, wire and tax fraud. His crimes netted him over $2 million in ill-gotten gains. Last month, he was sentenced for those crimes and, while he didn’t protest his innocence, he did protest his punishment. His crimes were merely “ethical mistakes” made because he was inexperienced and just doing his job. His lawyer compared his offenses with those of other corrupt officials, asserting his client’s felonies were less criminal so a shorter sentence was in order. In addition, he wasn’t really all that guilty since, in spite of his dishonesty, the city still managed to collect over $700 million in fines from the program he managed. Being just a little guilty, however, is much like being just a little bit pregnant—no matter how you spin it, you’re still guilty or pregnant.
Since the beginning of time, man has tried to deny responsibility, spread the blame and minimize his guilt. Believing he was only a little guilty, Adam blamed Eve for the apple debacle and then had the audacity to blame God for giving him Eve in the first place. Eve, of course, minimized her guilt by blaming the serpent. When King Saul was told to destroy everything possessed by the Amalekites, he only destroyed what was worthless or of poor quality. After lying to Samuel about his actions, he tried to minimize his guilt by blaming the people for his actions. Then he tried to put a positive spin on his disobedience by saying they’d only taken the plunder to use as sacrifices to God. For their sins, Adam and Eve were evicted and Saul lost the kingship. That guilty city official? He got ten years in prison!
We’re all sinners and, like Adam, Eve, Saul and convicted felons, we try to minimize our guilt. Clearly some crimes are greater than others; stealing a candy bar is not same as murder. Yet, the guilt is the same. Some sins also seem greater than others; profanity doesn’t seem as sinful as worshipping an idol. Nevertheless, they both are sins and offensive to the Lord. Big or little, every sin separates us from God and every sin deserves the death penalty. Fortunately, the blood of Christ and our heartfelt confession and repentance have commuted the sentence we so rightly deserve.
I was right. In fact, I was so right I deserved a gold star and he was so wrong that he should have gotten a big red “F” but he never admitted it. Although I congratulated myself for not saying, “I told you so!” I still wanted him to eat a little humble pie. Then the Holy Spirit did His job and rightly convicted me of being a bit self-righteous and a whole lot mean-spirited. I was reminded of Luther, a man from our church who I called “a disciple of Christ” in a previous devotion. He always greeted people with a smile and the phrase, “Jesus loves you and I do, too.” As I heard Luther’s words in my mind, I stopped in mid-gripe and remembered that Jesus loves my man and I do, too.
When my children were younger, there were several occasions that I wanted to pretend I had no idea to whom they belonged! There was that time one noticed (and used) the red emergency stop button on an escalator, or another discovered the meaning of the “domino effect” after pulling over one stanchion at the airport and seeing another ten follow suit, or one managed to be so nasty to the babysitter that she went home in tears, or when hotel security came knocking because of spitballs dropping from the window of our children’s adjoining hotel room. I really didn’t want to admit I knew them, let alone had given birth to them. We expected better from our children and their conduct certainly didn’t bring honor to our name. Unfortunately, their behavior, while unacceptable, was a somewhat unavoidable and unpleasant part of their growing up. Fortunately, those times of boundary testing are long over and I am now proud that they bear my name.
According to the Boston Globe, the college class of 2015 graduated with an average of over $35,000 in student debt. That’s a mammoth $56 billion in student debt, giving them the dubious honor of being the most indebted class in history. It’s likely that honor will pass to the class of 2016 come June. While a few occupations may qualify for student loan forgiveness programs, one way or another, that debt must be repaid. Recent college grads aren’t the only ones in debt. According to NerdWallet, the average American household carries nearly $131,000 in debt for such things as student loans, credit cards, mortgages, and both auto and personal loans. Even if we are fortunate enough to have no personal debt, the national debt of over nineteen trillion dollars still weighs heavily on each and every one of us. With a nation that has clearly spent more than it can afford, it’s too bad we no longer follow the laws in Deuteronomy for the Israelites that prohibited charging interest and canceled all debts every seven years.
It’s springtime in the mountains and I’m thrilled to see that it’s snowing. Although I was hoping for at least one more powder day on the mountain, that’s not why I’m pleased. I’m happy because, once again, everything looks pristine and clean. You see, March’s warmer temperatures and sunshine have been busy melting the nearly 300 inches of snow we’ve had this season. As that white stuff gradually disappears, ugliness is uncovered. Hidden under those mounds of snow is four months’ worth of unsightly litter, pollution, exhaust and smoke residue, scoria and gravel. That filthy accumulation is now making its appearance along the roadways. As the snow recedes along the footpaths, it’s not just lost mittens, discarded tissues and cigarette butts that emerge but also the dog dirt and moose and elk pellets from the animals who have ventured onto the trails. As beautiful as springtime in the mountains can be, this ugliness is part of what we call “mud season.” Today’s snow covers it all up again and I can briefly forget the filth hiding beneath it. It’s sort of like sweeping dirt under the carpet or painting over handprints on the wall; although the grime is still there, it doesn’t bother us because it can’t be seen.
Devotions of the Heart 