Scripture:
Mark 2:8-12
At once Jesus perceived in his spirit that they were discussing these questions among themselves; and he said to them, "Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, 'Your sins are forgiven,' or to say, 'Stand up and take your mat and walk'? But so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins" — he said to the paralytic — I say to you, stand up, take your mat and go to your home. And he stood up, and immediately took the mat and went out before all of them; so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, "We have never seen anything like this!"
Reflection Questions:
Why do we get so hung up when others receive God’s forgiveness and grace? Have you ever been stingy when it comes to sharing God’s love with others? Have you ever taken offense when others are forgiven?
Five-minute Story:
On a winter’s night, I drove up to the Canada/United States border. I was coming back from two days in Canada with my cute Canadian girlfriend. We had just started dating about a month prior. Our quick trip to Canada was both pleasure and business. We stayed with her brother in his apartment in Ottawa and toured the winter carnival at Canada’s capital city. Giant snow sculptures, ice carvings, skating on the canal, and warm beavertail pastries made for a pleasant time. The business involved getting a work visa as we reentered the United States. This piece of paper would allow my girlfriend to live with her parents in Utica and work as a dietician at a local nursing home. It would mean that we would see a lot of each other and our relationship would have time to grow.
At the Prescott-Ogdensburg border, there is a bridge that vaults high above the St. Lawrence River. On both sides of the bridge, you have to go through customs/immigration officials that sit in little tollbooth shelters. I have always disliked border crossings. They raise my anxiety and make me want to confess to kidnapping the Lindberg baby. At the booth, the guard told us that we needed to go inside.
Behind the counter stood a formidable presence. He wore a crisp white shirt that slightly hung over a thick leather belt which holstered a large sidearm. Sporting a black mustache, this border guard looked either like an old west sheriff or a cattle Barron. With his hand on his hip and penetrating glance, I did not doubt that he would hesitate to shoot first and ask questions later. It is only speculation, but I think that such an incident would make this guy’s day.
My girlfriend presented her identification, documentation from her employer that stated they she wasn’t taking the job away from an American, etc. Suspiciously and gruffly, the guard took them. This guy was a piece of work. His whole manner contained a hardness that some would applaud. To me, it was unnecessary rudeness that emanates from insecure persons intoxicated with power. At this point, I should mention that a similar set of documents from the same employer were approved when my girlfriend’s mother received her visa. Not this time. This time the visa was denied. I can’t recall the exact reasoning, but the border guard wanted another sentence added to the employer’s letter. There was no discussion. No appeal at the time. Until we settled the matter to this guard’s satisfaction, he denied us access to the United States. He then proceeded to threaten me that should I try to enter through another crossing, officials would arrest me and confiscate my truck.
As I drove the hour back to Ottawa, I remember feeling a deep sense of rejection, powerlessness, injustice (the papers worked for others but not us), and intimidation. I was devalued as a person and threatened like a criminal. I was also mad. As a nation of immigrants, we treated immigrants with disdain. The encounter opened my eyes, and I could only imagine what other folks might feel who come from distant lands without the benefit of language. It is not a good feeling.
Btw… The next day, we got things resolved. A revised letter and a different guard, without a chip on her shoulder, were all it took for my girlfriend to get her visa. A little time/travel/emotionally worn for the experience, we returned to Utica where six months later we were engaged to be married. The story had a happy ending for Katie and me.