I got a parking ticket for being 5 minutes late. And it made me mad…

5 minutes late!

I couldn’t believe it. Coming out of the swimming pool with the kids I could see his hat above the cars. He can’t be can he?

But he was.

As the ticket was slapped on my car window I ran towards him with a pleading look on my face. ‘Come on mate. I’m only 5 minutes out, any chance you can give me a break?’

To cut a long story short, the answer was a firm ‘no’.

And I was mad.

Mad with myself.

Mad with the guy for being so pernickety.

Just 5 minutes! Why couldn’t he be reasonable? I’m not going to pay £50 for being 5 minutes late! I don’t deserve this! I could use that money for something for more important rather than line Swale County Council’s pockets! I’m going to appeal. And if they reject it, I’ll take it all the way. I’m a big man, and I can take on a small claims court!

To be fair, the guy was reasonable. He said to say in my appeal that I’d been held up in the pool and he’d put a word in for me.

Even so, I drove off in a rage. The kids didn’t know what had hit us!

But then, I stopped.

And I realised that I’m still learning some lessons.

 

I’m not a murderer, but…

As I considered my reaction, deep down I knew I was in the wrong.

However I think about it, I agreed to get back to my car by 14:58. I knew the rules, they were stated clearly. And arriving at 15:03, I was late. I’d missed the mark. Whether by 5 minutes or 5 hours I was in the wrong. And the penalty was the same.

And it made me think of the Gospel.

 

The Bible says that I’ve missed the mark. I’m not a bad person. I like to think that often I might have missed it by 5 minutes rather than a murderer’s 5 hours.

 

What is more, God’s law is far holier and important than Swale County Council’s! So much so, that the penalty for not hitting God’s mark is eternal separation from him, not just £50.

And it’s payable by all.

Unless, of course, someone pays it for us.

How grateful I am that Jesus has paid it for me!

 

I’m a specialist in self-justification

I am good at this. There’s always an excuse.

‘It wasn’t my fault’.

I’m a child of my culture, which specialises in telling me that it’s not my fault. To look for the culprit. In my case it was:

The kids being too slow.

The person blocking a cubicle.
The swimming pool clock that was fast.
The parking attendant was a jobsworth.

In fact, I loved the attendant’s suggestion that I say I was delayed in the pool. That could be my way out! After all, it’s my first time visiting this place. I could put together a nicely worded letter outlining how I was delayed.

I wouldn’t even need to lie, I could just be economical with the truth. And it could save me £50.

Surely it’s worth it?

My ‘It’s not my fault’ reaction also applies to my relationship with God. When I’ve done wrong I’ve got the excuses lined up:

I was tired.

She antagonised me.
He started it.

The bottom line is, it is my responsibility. In my life, if I don’t hit the mark, then the responsibility is mine, and so the punishment is just.

If I’m tempted to be economical with the truth here, then what does it say about what I’m prepared to do before God?

But God cannot be mocked. He is watching.

How much better is it for me to lose £50 than to lie and grieve God, who has given everything to save me?

I hate being exposed for being wrong

I hate it. I hate someone saying that I’ve done something wrong. I’ll rage, I’ll rant and I’ll try and cover it up. Because it’s embarrassing.

Why? Because I’m respectable. Because I’m capable and together. I’m a church leader for goodness sake! I have an image to maintain here!

But of course, I get things wrong just like anyone. The fact is, some of us are better at hiding it than others.

When we do wrong in secret – looking at some porn, a white lie no-one will notice and so on – it can be tempting to think ‘I’m ok. No-one can see. It doesn’t do any harm’.

But it is destructive.

It gives us false security.
Because God knows.

And because we not only deceive ourselves, but others too. In the end it will destroy our relationships and even entire church communities.

How many of us are willing to be open with our weaknesses?

How many of us can handle being wrong and ask for forgiveness?

I believe that the depth of our communal relationships would be transformed overnight if we were more open, honest and vulnerable with each other.

If we repented of our pride and pointed to our desperate need for Christ rather than our respectable, capable, knowledgeable selves.

 

You know the funny thing? When I went to pay my fine the computer hasn’t even registered it!

The irony…