For years, the Sarah Sisterhood (gospel-centered community for women), has taken time out of our regular study to celebrate a story feast.
Since we are studying Tullian Tchividjian’s book One-Way Love, last week’s focused on theme of law and grace.
I was reminded of this terrible, bizarre experience with law and grace I had on an airplane back in 2004.
I didn’t use to tremble when I walked into an airport for a flight. There was a time when flying was filled with a sense of excitement, even importance. I was special; I was going somewhere.
The trembling probably began during the years I commuted from Pensacola to Seattle in pursuit of a graduate degree. The first course I took started the day before 9-11 happened. Ten days later, I flew back to Pensacola on an almost empty plane.
On one of these excursions, in 2004, I had made it through the long red-eye from Seattle to Atlanta and was now firmly planted in my seat for the short shot back to Pensacola. The flight attendant was doing her thing, making sure seat belts were fastened and electronic devices were shut off (yes, back in those days).
I turned off my device. The thing was, this baby in front of me.
Now I’m a mom of four who never had the courage to travel with mine when they were babies, so I’m not hating on crying babies on the airplane. However, I feel completely justified in not wanting to hear them cry, especially when they’re loud and insistent and they’re in the seat in front of me facing my way.
So I left my headphones in my ears. When the flight attendant told me to remove them, I held up my device to show it was turned off and the headphones weren’t plugged in…
Well, that’s when it got bizarre. In a stern voice, anger barely controlled, she lectured me about how I needed to comply with the rules of the plane. Before I could apologize (I had now taken the plugs out), she quickly turned away. Moments later, she reappeared with what I call a “yellow card” and explained that I was being put on a some-kinda-list because blah-blah-blah.
I still can’t remember what she or the card said exactly, because frankly my mind was numbed by fears and my eyes blurred with tears at this point. After delivering the punishment, she turned away again, and the passengers around me looked at me, some with sympathetic looks, like, “What was that all about?” and others with accusing looks, like, “You must be a dangerous person.”
So, thankfully, I guess, that wasn’t the end of the story.
Just after the captain announced our immanent descent into Pensacola, the flight attendant returned. She offered me a huge smile, and motioned for me to get up and follow her. I wondered for a moment if it was a trick, since the captain had just told us to fasten our seat belts, but I figured I’d better obey her, so I followed her down the aisle, intensely aware of being watched, my cheeks burning with shame.
We arrived at the attendant’s station, and she showed me a white clear view notebook, opened to a form filled with writing. Again, what I remember was that all the pages had sheet protectors, not what the words she pointed to actually said.
She spoke in the voice you use to tell a pre-schooler, “Now, you messed up, but this time, I’m going to let you off the hook.” And she proceeded to tell me basically that and to warn me never to disobey again and she would tear up this sheet that I think informed other people that I was an aviation threat.
I nodded and promised and conveyed that I understood what a bad passenger I’d been. She took the page out of the sheet protector and tore it up. Then — and this is still the part that is the most bizarre to me — she gave me a big hug and told me I could return to my seat.
I fought the law and the law won. But my judge, for reasons I cannot discern, decided to show me mercy. I guess. But it didn’t feel like mercy. It felt like at any moment, she could change her mind and put me on another list.
What I realized as I shared this story with my group is that God’s law, mercy, and grace is perfect. It is not arbitrary, based on how he feels that day — or moment. His law and his grace is rooted in his own eternal, holy, consistently loving character. Yes, it it is rather bizarre that a holy God would send a holy Son to die for my sins (including my defiant, self-justifying attitude on that plane). And yet it makes sense because of who God is — a God who loves and pursues us in our worst and redeemed us because of that love.
Now it’s your turn — think of a story about law, grace, or airplanes (these are usually good ones!) and share it — in the comments — and/or with friends.
Here are a few questions to get you thinking:
1. Tell of a time when someone showed you mercy and grace — surprised you with a loving response you knew you did not deserve.
2. Tell of an “encounter with the law” — a person who demanded only the best or held the law over you. How did you respond to the demands? What did this experience teach you about law and grace?
