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My Day in Court
I was guilty. The fine was $407.
As I waited for my mandatory court appearance, I realized that I had no basis upon which to ask for mercy. I was guilty. I had been driving for two weeks on an expired license. It didn't matter that while driving to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) to renew my driver’s license, I got stopped by a policeman in a car with flashing lights. It didn’t matter that I had the application in my hand to get my license renewed. It didn't mater that I was only ONE BLOCK away from the DMV. It didn't matter. I was guilty.
Much as I squirmed, I had no grounds to ask the judge for mercy.
To say that I was concerned was an understatement. I was about to move to Israel. Didn’t the justice system know I had to go shopping? After all, I had a closet full of winter clothes. I needed clothes to wear in the desert! And, what about vitamins? A new prescription for my glasses? What about my comfort food, Oreo cookies? I needed at least one extra bag for them!
I felt childish, but I couldn’t help it.
As I waited, I considered the contrast between standing before this judge and eventually having to stand before God, THE Judge. While I didn’t know what the punishment in this case would be, I know what the punishment will be at the later judgment:
The soul who sins is the one who will die. (Ezekiel 18:20)
End of that discussion!
I didn't realize how upset I was until my appointed day. Well meaning friends hadn’t been too encouraging.
“Maybe the judge will reduce the fine,” one counseled. “He won’t even give you a chance to speak!” another piped up.
So I waited in fear -- I sure didn't want to pay that fine! Guilt (I knew my driver’s license had expired) swept over me. Then gratitude pushed in -- deep in my heart, I knew in the more important judgment, God would extend mercy.
But gratitude left when I entered the courtroom. Crowded with fellow lawbreakers, all I could see was the microphone in front of the defendant's table. I'd never been afraid of a mike; I’d had years of television and radio experience. But this mike was HUGE. There would be no way to do this quietly. Every word would broadcast just how guilty I was. I felt guiltier than ever.
It didn’t help when the Spirit reminded me of the words of Jesus, "There's nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What you have said in the dark will be heard in the daylight, and what you have whispered in the ear in the inner rooms will be proclaimed from the roofs." (Luke 12:2ff).
Why was I embarrassed? Long ago I had been counseled, “Never project or protect a false image of yourself." I told myself we all make mistakes. I just don't want mine broadcasted all around.
The judge opened the session declaring that we had three options:
1. Guilty. He reminded us that we had all been guilty sometime--it was just that we got caught THIS time!
2. Not guilty. He warned us that he didn't like this plea because it automatically meant a trial involving five officers of the court (and he implied he didn’t want to waste their time defending “guilty” people.)
3. No contest. The judge disliked this plea even more. (Darn! That was the one I was going to use!) He said that this plea really admitted we were guilty, but didn't want a trial.
Whoa! Did this judge believe ANYONE was not guilty?
So with my heart pounding, I watched how he treated the first cases. Could it be? Surprisingly, there seemed to be a flicker of hope as I watched his eyes. He even looked eager to help us lawbreakers. With each plea of “Guilty,” he asked if there was an explanation. Unfortunately no one could give him a good enough excuse. So, fine followed fine. There were none innocent. No not one.
Finally, it was my turn. I stepped up to the HUGE microphone. I heard the charge.
“Joan, get a grip,” I told myself, “this really isn’t the worst catastrophe in your life.” For all the consoling I gave myself, I stepped in front of the microphone with my heart in my throat, looking up at a BIG judge, feeling like a SMALL child.
I threw myself into the hands of my Savior who promised never to reject or abandon me.
“Guilty,” I tried to whisper. Silence.
“Have you now gotten your license?” his eyes narrowed.
“Yes sir!” I was on my way. . .only one block away from the DMV before I was stopped by a policeman.” (Boy did that sound lame.)
Bravely I stepped up to the bench to show my new license. His eyes narrowed further as he reviewed my driving record. (What did he see that made his eyes squint like that?)
Time for some kind of action, I thought, as I showed him the copy I had insisted on making of my old license.
“Sir, actually the license had only expired two weeks ago. The officer said it expired four years ago!” I shoved it in front of him and pointed at the date indignantly.
Suddenly he looked at me with either a faint smile of amusement or relief, and pronounced, “Case dismissed. All charges dismissed!” With that, he cracked the gavel and left his bench.
What a relief! I wanted to jump up and shout, “Praise the Lord of Grace and Mercy!”
My earthly judge had had compassion on me . . . . I almost felt Jesus wink and say, “Now, sin no more - - -
And, have fun shopping.”
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