A race for parking; a grace that's startling

Before I left my apartment to go to class this morning, I was studying Martin Luther's writings on the uses of the Law. Before I got to class this morning, the Law gave me a speeding ticket.

A $128 speeding ticket — 43 mph in a 30 mph zone.

I had been really determined to get to class on time this morning, as I'm often a little late. It often seems that no matter how hard I try to get someplace on time, I get there late. Last Tuesday, for example, I arrived at seminary earlier than ever but ended up hunting for a parking spot for 15 minutes — lucky for me on that day, it turned out that the special lecture that had drawn all those extra cars also caused classes to be delayed.

Today, I wasn't so lucky. When I put aside Luther's writings and was heading for the apartment door, I was well on time. Then I realized our toilet was still gurgling, and I had to figure out how to stop that. Then, on my way out, I ended up spending another minute trying to get our door to lock. It's not that our apartment is that dysfunctional — it just seemed like God was out to get me from the get-go.

I was especially conscious of not driving too fast in the six miles to seminary. And I was only running a couple minutes late when I arrived in the seminary's parking lot nearest to my class. But then I let the guy driving the other way take the one parking spot I saw, and of course, I couldn't find another. It was while I was racing (a nervous, unawarely 13-mph-over-the-unposted-limit kind of racing) down Como Avenue to another parking lot that the Law got me.

I pulled over. I handed the St. Paul Police officer my license (actually, I accidentally started to hand him my seminary ID — a brilliant mistake that nonetheless brought me no mercy). He came back with the $128 citation.

As I parked my car and made the long walk across campus, I considered whether my series of unfortunate events might be a message from God. And I mulled my absolute stupidity. It seemed like I just couldn't learn my lesson about time-management. It wasn't simply that I was always running late — it was also that I was already behind on much of my course work this semester. I just couldn't seem to manage my time wisely, and to the detriment of my ability to do God's work. I reached the conclusion that I really needed to do a better job keeping God's will in mind and asking him for help in doing that — I certainly couldn't do it alone. I got to class almost 20 minutes late, piling further onto my state of self-loathing.

Then, at some point, it occurred to me how Luther's writings about the uses of the Law tied into my run-in with the Law. Luther saw the Law — meaning God's rules, such as the Ten Commandments, that order our lives — as serving two purposes. Clearly, I had come up against the first, civil use of the Law, the threat of punishment that scares us enough that we "refrain from killing or from committing adultery or from stealing" (I suppose speeding wasn't as much of an issue in 1535 when Luther wrote this, in regard to Paul's letters to the Galatians).

But it even seemed that the Law's second use — the spiritual use — was playing itself out in a way. Luther defined this more important use of God's rules as a "hammer of death" that reveals to us our sins, unrighteousness and inability to measure up to God's expectations on our own. This hammer of the law crushes us, and indeed I felt crushed as all my seemingly inescapable shortcomings piled up in my mind.

The good thing about that second sense of the Law, Luther wrote, is that by making us so aware of our inability to be good enough, it brings us to the Gospel, to the love of Jesus that saves us as nothing else can. "When the conscience has been terrified this way by the Law, there is a place for the doctrine of the Gospel and of grace, which raises it up again and comforts it." Although I had received this faith and devoted myself to the Gospel — certainly, I plan to make a career out of it — this hammer of a $128 citation reminded me that I need to be focusing my life on God and asking for his help even more.

The day wasn't getting much better. The hardest part was calling my wife, Tracy, and letting her know that I lost $128 of our money, most of which she earns through her hard work while I'm at seminary.

And then something remarkable happened. After the misery from the Law had played itself out, the Gospel and its grace came directly into view — in my e-mail.

I got a message from my dad, who is the pastor at my home church in Green Bay. Knowing nothing of my speeding ticket, he was writing to let me know that the Church Council's treasurer had just sent a check to the seminary for me. He explained that the church, which was already doing so incredibly much to support Tracy and me, had a good year financially, and the council determined to share the blessings. It was a big check — many times bigger than the cost of the speeding ticket. I was at a loss for words. My eyes started to tear up, just as they're doing as I write this. God, or at least this wonderful group of people in Green Bay who are doing his business, had saved me from my plight, just as the Gospel of our gracious Lord saves us from all things.

I'm so incredibly grateful right now — to God and to my church — and so energized to better focus on doing God's will, with his help.

I'll be focusing on my speedometer more, too.