So having already bared my soul in regard to previous encounters with the police, I thought I’d continue in confessional fashion and tell the tale of another occasion when I fell foul of local law enforcement agencies – not this time as a result of their eagerness to take a photo of me as I, quite literally, sped by, but one during which I came face to face with one of their number.
The incident took place one Father’s Day as I was travelling, along with the family, to visit my Dad. And it was as I was driving along the North Devon Relief Road, happily minding my own business that I suddenly noticed a police car following along behind me.
‘So what?’ you might ask. Well, the thing is, not only was it following along behind me, it also saw fit to flash its lights at me. You know the ones – those rather striking blue ones!
And so, I thought to myself, I’d better stop – and see if the policeman wants any help with his enquiries.
And do you know what? He did. In fact, so keen was he to have me lend my assistance, that he invited me to step out of my car, and join him in his.
Now I should point out that I had absolutely no idea what it was he wanted to talk to me about. Miraculously, I hadn’t been speeding, the car was taxed and Insured, and, as far as I was aware, it was in an entirely roadworthy condition.
And so, I thought to myself, perhaps it was simply because, proud of his own car, he wanted to show me just how much better it was than mine!
Once I was seated comfortably in his admittedly impressive vehicle, the police officer began. He started by asking me some rather easy warm-up questions: my name, where had I come from, and where was I heading. All of which I answered without any great difficulty.
And then he told me two things:
The first thing that he told me was the law – and how I was guilty of breaking it. He told me that I had been driving too close to the car in front of me and that I had been doing so for all of the previous four miles. He told me that ‘only a fool, breaks the two second rule’ and, in so doing – though I hadn’t realised it at the time – I now appreciate that he was implying that a fool was exactly what I was!
And then he went on to tell me that my crime of ‘driving without due care and attention’ was worthy of a court appearance and six points on my licence.
Gulp!
Now the law is the law, and recognising I’d broken it, I acknowledged that it was the proverbial fair cop. Besides, there was no point my trying to argue otherwise since my actions had been recorded and were now preserved on film. His rather fancy car, you see, really was better than mine – it even had a built-in camera!
And so the truth could not be denied: I was guilty.
I was, of course, sorry for what I’d done – but being sorry, didn’t change the fact that he had me, as they say, bang to rights.
And so I found myself hoping that he’d show me leniency, that he’d spare me the punishment the law required, and treat me instead as one who’d been driving perfectly safely.
That is to say, I hoped that he’d be gracious, that he’d show me mercy, and not treat me in the way the law demanded.
Or, for that matter, in the way that I deserved.
But before I had the chance to beg…or cry…he went on. And my soon-to-be new best friend told me the second thing.
He told me the news – the very good news – that he’d decided to let me off!
I don’t know why he chose not to punish me that day – only that it was most assuredly not because of anything I had done.
It wasn’t because there were other drivers who were driving even more dangerously than me, it wasn’t a result of a promise on my part to never do it again, and it wasn’t even because I’d expressed sufficient remorse.
It was simply because, though I was guilty, he had chosen to be forgiving.
And so it was that, as a result of the policeman’s kindness, I kept a clean driving licence that day. Not because I wasn’t guilty of a driving offence but because I wasn’t counted as having committed one.
And no record was therefore kept!
Which is, it seems to me, a pretty good illustration of the difference between the Law and the Gospel.
Within the pages of the Bible, there are many laws, the most famous of which are the Ten Commandments that can be summarised by saying that we should love God with all our heart, soul, strength, and mind – and our neighbour as ourselves.
However, like the Highway Code that I have also failed to keep, these are commands that I have similarly broken. And so, just as I was that Sunday afternoon, I am conscious of my need for God’s mercy too.
But, like that announced to me by the police officer, God also has some good news for me to hear.
Namely the gospel – that announces to me that I am similarly acquitted – and again, not because of any good in me.
It’s not because there may be those who have done worse things than I have, not because I’ve promised to do better in the future, not even because I’ve been sufficiently contrite.
Rather I am forgiven simply because, despite my guilt, God has chosen to be gracious to me.
Because that’s what God is like. He’s gracious – and treats us infinitely better than we could ever deserve. Rather than punishing us as the law demands, He chooses, by way of Jesus’ bearing on the cross the penalty that we deserved, to pay our debt on our behalf.
But more than just choosing to treat us as those who’ve never done anything wrong – God also chooses to treat us as if we were those who’ve always done everything right. That is to say, He counts us righteous – as righteous even as His own beloved son – before adopting us into His family as His fully forgiven and much loved children.
The law then tells us how we would need to behave if we wanted to earn God’s acceptance. And crushes us with its unmanageable demands.
Whilst the gospel tells us what God has done to make us acceptable to Him. And fills us with joy by lifting the law’s heavy burden.
Which is not to suggest that the law isn’t good – on the contrary, everything about it is right. But just as the excellent rule that tells us we shouldn’t drive too close to the car in front of us is one that, however much I may agree with it, can’t, in and of itself, stop me from breaking it – so too the even more excellent command to ‘Love God’ doesn’t, in and of itself enable us to do so either.
But here’s the funny thing. Since that encounter with the policeman my driving has improved a little. And though, admittedly, it still isn’t as good as it ought to be, I nonetheless, find myself wanting to drive better. Not because of the law – but because of the policeman’s kindness.
And so it is with the gospel. God’s law does not have the power to change us, but the kindness of God, revealed to us in the gospel, can.
And so I’ll finish with a lovely little rhyme, said by some to be written by John Bunyan, that makes the distinction between law and gospel clear.
‘Run and work the law commands
But gives us neither feet nor hands
Far better news the gospel brings
It bids us fly and gives us wings’
Related posts:
To read ‘Minding the Gap’, click here
To read ‘And not just because baked beans get in the way’, click here
To read ‘The Kindness We Don’t Needand the Truth We Do’, click here
To read ‘No Ifs or Buts’, click here
To read ‘Hope in the Ashes: Why Sin Remains But Does Not Reign’, click here
To read ‘Hope for the Guilty’, click here
To read ‘When our best isn’t good enough’, click here
To read ‘On Narcissism…an the Pot Calling the Kettle Black’, click here
Some musings 