Chopped, Sprinkled and Ready to Serve

It took the Mercedes incident, to bring home the personal cost involved in exercising grace. During one of our discussions I said to Don: “Did you know how important the number seven and its multiples are in the Bible?” “Yes, seven is the number of perfection. It is the time God took to complete creation. In the agricultural cycle it is the year when the land lies fallow. All farming activities cease.” Don explained, knowing some of this was new for me. “If people took it seriously, how did they sustain themselves in the period of rest?”My comment was skeptical. “It is a deep-seated dependence on God’s grace to supply their needs. That is his promise“ Don explained. “Wow! That is scary.” I said. “To let go, stop farming and trust God for your sustenance for a whole year and maybe more while the new crop grows! Imagine that! I’m glad we don’t take these things seriously now days.” “If you find that difficult, check out the Year of Jubilee. It’s the 49th year, the year that completes seven such cycles. If the seventh year depends on grace, the forty ninth requires super grace. All debts are to be wiped out, all land returned to its original owner!” “Enough about grace and super grace for the moment; I need to make an early start tomorrow morning. The mission driver and I will go together. He has to collect the Mission leader’s Mercedes after servicing and I need craft material for the Christmas rally” I said closing the discussion.

The driver and I made it for the five am bus to Coimbatore, 60 kms downhill from Coonoor. We collected the Mercedes then drove into the narrow lane that sold craft material. Traffic crowded and rippling along as though belonging to a single muscle. Scooters wove in and out with aplomb. Horns honked and brakes jammed as a pedestrian suddenly cut across our path. Our driver stopped to let him pass. The driver of the city bus behind us was not so quick with brakes. The bus jammed the Mercedes from behind. Our driver shot out of the car to assess the damage. The newly repaired tail lights were smashed to smithereens. Both drivers gesticulated wildly to try and settle the issue in impolite Tamil. The bus driver was apologetic and owned his mistake. Our driver wasn’t satisfied with a mere apology. Original Mercedes lights cost a small fortune. Who would pay for them? “What is the matter?” I asked the irate drivers. “He admits he is at fault and is even willing to pay the damage,” our driver said pointing to the bus driver. “But he hasn’t got the money on him right now.” “Where can he get the money from?” I asked. “He has half an hour to finish his schedule. Then he will drive the bus back to the terminus, only then will he take us to his house and get the money for us” our driver said. “Does he know how much the tail lights cost?” I asked. “I’m afraid to tell him as they are so expensive,” our driver said “Tell him, so he knows how much to arrange for” I said. I saw the bus driver throw up his hands and raise his voice. Finally he calmed down and asked us to follow the bus to the terminus. We proceeded slowly, stopping at each bus stop. Before the last stop, the driver pulled up at a side lane, jumped off the bus, rang the bell, hands gesticulating around his words. I gathered he was asking his friend, the house owner for money. The friend just shrugged his shoulders and closed the door. Next we were at the terminus. The driver signed off in the office, got his bicycle and signaled us to follow him. Heads turned to see a Mercedes following a bicycle! He stopped outside a small shanty dwelling, knocked on the door, went in and came out with money in hand. A disheveled lady with a drawn face whom I presumed to be his wife followed him. She stood still and stared at the Mercedes. The money totaled half the amount he owed. Some of it consisted of small change. “That all…” he said in broken English, shrugging his shoulders. He presumed I owned the car. “He must arrange for the rest from somewhere.” I said firmly for our driver to translate into Tamil. “It’s his mistake and he has to pay for his carelessness.”

After a brief altercation, the bus driver turned to his neighbor’s door and knocked. A wizened old man put out his head. The bus driver’s gestures pleaded. The man rummaged in his house and returned with some money. Totaled up, the sum was still short of what he owed. At this point I decided things had gone too far. I took the money he gave us and headed back for Coonoor. The balance would have to come out of my pocket.

“Jesus has forgiven you a lot you know.” The faint whisper started on the way home. The Resident Director did not waste time.

“I know but why do you bring it up now? What has that got to do with this real life incident?” I said. “He did not give you what you deserve” the inner voice continued. “He paid your debts and gave you freedom instead. How could you who have been forgiven so much expect the poor bus driver to pay what he hasn’t got?” “Be serious. This is the mission leader’s car. Besides original lights cost so much. Who do you think should pay; me, the offender or our driver? It wasn’t my fault. Why should I pay?” I argued back. “Is your relief at being forgiven by God big enough to absorb the cost of another’s mistake?” The words insinuated softly. “Oh no, don’t spiritualize everything. Let’s be practical. This month we are a bit tight on money. What you say is impossible,” I shot back blocking off further communication. **** Don and I continued our discussion on the Year of Jubilee the day after the ‘tail light’ incident. “It is the year one cancels all debts, freeing others from any debts that may be outstanding” Don mumbled, preoccupied with thinking it through. “You can’t be serious. It’s like paying off someone else’s debt from resources that are rightfully yours. Even if it is written in the Bible, it’s not fair!” I said. “It needs grace to be able to wipe off such a debt to free the other person from being trapped; much grace and compassion.” Don observed. ”I think you’d have to be too stupid to do that” I said. “One would need a really strong dependence on God, to be able to do so.” Don’s words ignored my sarcasm. “It is humbling to believe all resources really belong to him and one only manages them as per his rules.” “All this is too fast for me” I said, avoiding the real issue. “The logic makes sense. It ensures no one becomes too landed at the cost of another” Don continued. “The communists would be very happy with the equal distribution!!” I retorted. ***** The next day, I told Don about the Mercedes tail lights incident. “I think what you did was OK, but you still seem disturbed. Why is that?” he asked. “I am so overwhelmed by the voice inside that I want to send back all this money to the bus driver. Do you think you and I could pay off the full amount?” My tone was sober. “I feel guilty making the suggestion, as we are short this month.” “Let’s do what the little voice inside is telling you. Only that will bring you peace. Send back the money and I’ll pay the bill for the lights. Don’t worry about the hole it will make in our budget. We’ll manage somehow,” Don said putting his arm around my shoulder. So the money went back and I learnt the big cost of a little grace.