Weekly Devo: Gate Crasher

After the humiliating – er, humbling – experience when Marilyn taught me how to mow the field, my first solo assignment working on her father’s farm was to clean out the chicken house. Using the old farm truck, I was to load up a dozen watering troughs and transport them across the road to another barn and store them away.

I was excited about driving the truck, a large flatbed pickup with fence-like side boards. The rear gate operated much like a guillotine so the farmer could drop the gate quickly when loading animals. This boy was excited to manhandle a big truck; my confidence level pegged the needle.

I carefully maneuvered the truck across the road, backed up to the chicken house, raised the gate and loaded the truck. So far, so good! I was feeling great about the project, and proud that I didn’t need anyone to instruct me. Easing the truck into low gear and slipping the clutch just enough, I rolled off without a shudder. I drove across the road toward the other barn, a long, low building with multiple overhead doors. I spotted an open door with plenty of clearance and carefully aimed the large truck toward my target.

As I entered the building, I heard a sharp crack. The truck shuttered, lurched and squatted to a stop. My brain went TILT! I couldn’t process the situation. I couldn’t imagine what had caused all the commotion. But as I stepped down from the truck, the answer became all too painfully apparent. I had failed to lower the gate, leaving it extended over eight feet above the already tall truck bed. The gate had smashed into the spouting and the roof, bending the gate straight back. The momentum of the truck used the broken gate like a plow to rip through the roof.

I prayed the Rapture might occur immediately. After a few moments, I recovered my wits and changed my prayer to, “Oh, Lord, you’ve got to help me here!” I scanned the area, praying no one had witnessed the destruction, hoping against hope I could somehow fix it before it was discovered.

As my mind raced for solutions, the Williams family filed from the house one at a time. Marilyn’s mother, Naomi, came first, wiping her wet hands on her apron as she squinted toward the heavens (calling down fire and brimstone, I was certain). One by one, the family circled around me. There they stood, each scanning the sky in all directions as though searching for a UFO. At first, no one said a word. Finally, Wayne spoke as though honestly impressed, “Wow, you managed to knock out the electric and telephone, smash the barn AND the truck!”

Sure enough, not only had I made Swiss cheese of the tailgate and splintered the building, but I had managed to snag the electric and telephone lines along the way. I had temporarily but quite effectively put the Williams Farm out of business.

I don’t recall my exact state of mind at that moment or what expression I may have been wearing as I stood there scared and humiliated. But I certainly recall their expressions. I watched as their puzzlement melted into smiles, smiles sparked into snickers, and snickers erupted into raucous laughter. I could only manage a feeble grin as baptized in their grace and forgiveness.

I wish that feeling on everyone.

Lord, thank you for your graciousness when I make a mess of things. Thank you for forgiving my mistakes and keeping no record of my wrongs. Thank you for your Spirit, alive and powerful in the hearts of others, that enables them to extend your mercy to me. May I be that same kind of person, Lord—one who quickly forgives and easily laughs as I give  honor to others even when they stumble.

Read 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

1. Recall a time when you made a big mistake. Has anyone ever lovingly responded to you with:

Patience?

Kindness?

Honor?

No anger?

Forgiveness?

Protection?

Trust?

Hope?

Perseverance?

1. Now think of a time when you’ve been impacted by someone else’s mistake. How could you lovingly respond with:

Patience?

Kindness?

Honor?

No anger?

Forgiveness?

Protection?

Trust?

Hope?

Perseverance?