I received a notice in the mail that, despite being from our local government, was most welcome. The local court let me know that my previous conviction of felony OWI has been expunged. As far as the state of Indiana is concerned, my grievous sin never happened. It was cause to celebrate and so we did. This change, however positive, doesn’t make a huge difference in my day-to-day life. When I apply for a job I click a different box than I used to. I do not have a felony conviction that has not been expunged. That said, any potential employer with the sense to do a simple google search will find plenty of webpages announcing my guilt, some even celebrating it.
There are myriad ways to remember someone’s sin. My critics, taking a cue from that accuser, Old Nick, delight to rub my face in it. Their bitterness is its own reward. Many of my friends take a different tack, looking at me with what might graciously be called pity. They take no pleasure in my sin, but look at it as if it was the end of my life, and usefulness for the kingdom. When our paths cross they look away, like I’m the Elephant Man.
Then there are those who genuinely care for me, who walked with me through this valley. They didn’t excuse my sin but nevertheless felt no shame to be with me. This group I call friends. It was a wise man who first said, “Your friends are not those who stand with you on the mountaintop but those who stoop with you in the deepest valleys.” No mere human, not a single soul, exhibited this spirit more fully, more tenderly and beautifully, than my beloved wife Lisa.
How I look back on it is another matter. It remains an occasion for shame to me, a scarlet letter. It is a constant reminder that even those who have been redeemed, like Gomer, are not immune from grievous sin. I too am tempted to look back on that night as the end of my usefulness for the kingdom. I also remember it, however, as a time when God poured out His grace on me.
First, He spared my life, the life of our boys and the lives of others on the road. Given the scope of my sin, this is no small grace. Second, He ripped from my hands several idols that were harming me and my relationship with Him. Third, He welcomed me to a whole other level of authenticity, as my façade came crashing down along with my platform. Fourth, He showed me who my friends are. My father, a walking testimony to our heavenly Father’s hesed, or “loyal love” used to encourage me with this pithy principle, “We stick with the stuck.” Finally, and most important, He forgave me. He removed my sin as far from me as the east is from the west (Psalm 103:12).
While I am thankful that the state of Indiana and the God of heaven and earth have both forgotten my sin, I am committed to not forget. Not because the shame has any value, but because the gratitude does. May my joy in His grace never be expunged.
You don’t know me, but consider me a friend. God bless you, your family, and your contribution to the Kingdom. You have an enormous impact for good for Christians including me. God is not through with you just yet.
Thank you.
Such good news!
I am so happy for you!
Good news indeed!
When I was nineteen, my one and only time, I drove home drunk. I got home safely and was not caught. But just think, how bad it might have been, and what could have happened. Is your sin greater than mine, just because you were caught?
One thing I look back on, as a scarlet letter, is my divorce after 19 years of marriage. My wife filed for divorce after she found a boyfriend and wanted to marry him. Though I didn’t want to divorce, and forgave her, still, I felt unworthy and unfit to continue any kind of ministry for the Lord.
Sometimes Christians can be the most indifferent and apathetic folks around. After my divorce and remarriage, I continued to attend the same large church I had for years. However, things were never the same with my old friends, some I had known for many years. I’m not sure the reason, was it because I was divorced and remarried? Only God truly knows.
My second marriage was to a Filipino. Eleven months after our vows, Hannah Marie, our firstborn came into the world, but she never left the hospital during her brief twenty-three days of life (Hannah’s story, “23 Days” can be found in the book The Path Life Takes). While in the hospital, other than the pastor and his wife, no one from our sizeable congregation came to visit, though it had been announced over the pulpit every service. Then, after she died, there were no phone calls, no offers of help with the funeral arrangements from old friends, nor from the church staff. Though the day and time for the funeral were announced, other than the pastor who was giving the eulogy, and his wife, no one from the church came for the service. Moreover, when we went to church the following Sunday, I can count on one hand the number of people who offered condolences, and only one old friend said anything.
What is very puzzling, I even talked with the pastor after these things took place (for a long while), and laid out what you have read, and so much more about what we had gone through. The pastor understood, and the next Sunday spoke to the whole congregation about the total lack of support. It made no difference, there was still no response from the congregation. It was like we were being shunned or invisible and didn’t exist. Why? What was the reason, the purpose, Lord? What sin had we committed? I will ask Him when I get to heaven.
Nevertheless, we were not totally alone, a great deal of support came from the Filipino community, which passed the information around and many responded with love and care. We didn’t need to ask for help, they knew. There were lots of emails with condolences, cards with money poured in, many we haven’t been able to thank, for there were just first names and no addresses. An American/Filipino couple, Dale and Irene S. called and asked if we needed any help. They came to our apartment and made all the arrangements for the funeral, the music, the place to meet after the service, the food served, and clean-up afterward. I still don’t know who paid for the food or where it came from. We were so distraught; I don’t know what we would have done without their help. For the funeral service, as I looked over those who had gathered, it was a sea of mostly unfamiliar Filipino faces, dotted with a few of my relatives and one old friend. We had a lack of support from our own congregation, but truly had the full support from the Filipino community.
My wonderful Godly wife died two days before our seventeenth wedding anniversary.
He Knows Exactly What I Need
(Dottie Rambo)
When I thought I needed friendship,
I had to stand alone.
When I thought that I was doing right,
The Lord said I was wrong.
When I thought I needed a blessing,
The good Lord sent a trial.
Now I know just what it is,
To suffer for a while.
He knows exactly what I need
to walk the narrow way.
Jesus knows how to keep me humble
Knows how to make me pray.
He knows when the clouds are up in the sky
And I’m walking through the valley low,
I’ll be down on my knees
Calling on Him, there’s no other place to go.
When I thought I needed sunshine,
The Lord sent rain.
When I thought I needed healing,
I had my share of pain.
I’ve been looking for a mountain top,
But a valley’s all I see.
Jesus always seems to know,
Exactly what I need.
One of the best days of our lives happen when idols are knocked off the throne of our lives. This was a life changing event for our family. No matter the depth of hurt, rejection, and loss you’ve experienced real family doesn’t walk away.
We stick like glue.
I’m sorry for the hurt you’ve bore, those who you thought were friends and even worse family that turned and walked away. No worse stinging slap.
But God.
Time proves all things.
His merciful grace cleared the road for authenticity and deeper communion with Him.
Perhaps those who threw you away will be convicted and reconcile their ways.
But regardless— you are a man of God.
Tender and honest.
I thank God your life was spared and that of our sons. And any others that dark night.
Thankful He has given you a testimony of God sustaining grace.
You are His and you are mine. Forever