Caught Drawing Near

“Jada….did you swipe that cookie off my napkin? Did you? Did you?” Our dog’s cowering look and smacking lips told the story. She slinked down under the table hoping that out of sight means out of mind. No one does guilty gracefully, especially if caught in the act.

A few years ago, I was driving home from an enjoyable evening out with the family. I thought returning by way of the back roads would be fun. I love the feel of a car hugging the curves and night driving is so peaceful, especially with the road to myself.

Coming to my turn, I slowed, but with no cars in sight, I made rolling right hand turn, not bothering to stop and I didn’t give it a second thought. Right then I heard a siren. I looked at Jen, “Did you hear that?” 

“You didn’t stop!” she said.  “What?” I said, a little flustered, checking my rearview mirror. “That stop sign, you didn’t stop.”  “Rats, but we’re the only car on the road!” I said. 

My headlights pointed me forward, so I drove on cautiously, hoping it would all just go away. The faint flashing of lights in rear window told me otherwise. Dang it. So much for the relaxing evening. Now I was frustrated and had no excuse.

With adrenalin pumping, I begin to scheme. “Oh officer, it’s way past the kids bedtime, we were just trying to get home quick to put them to bed.” Or, “I’m sorry officer, it’s so dark, I didn’t see the sign.” Or, “I thought I did stop.” Anything to deflect blame. But he had me, Jen and I both knew it.

Jen said. “You’d better pull over.” But I didn’t. No, I slowed down, but kept driving. I went through a 4-point check, as I did. Seat belts are on? Check. Radio turned down? Check. Feel for your wallet? Check. Slow down pretending to be completely innocent? Check.

There’s the siren again, still in the distance. 

“That sneaky cop, probably hiding off the road just waiting on some poor sucker,” I thought. It made me mad just thinking about being ‘caught in a trap.’ I imagined a smug-faced policeman shining a light in my eyes asking, “Didn’t you see the stop sign, sir?” 

The road bent left then right and having slowed down considerably, I thought, “He sure is taking his good, sweet time.” The siren again, still muted, but obvious.

An idea emerged. “Aidan, are you playing a video game?” Jen asked. “Yes,” came the answer from the darkness of the back seat.  “Is that siren coming from your game?”  “You mean this one?” Replicating the siren sound. 

“Oh, my gosh,” said Jen, laughing loudly, “that’s it! Oh, my gosh!” I shook my head in disbelief and breathed a sigh of relief. Those flashing lights and faint sounds were coming from a handheld device ricocheting off the rear windshield.

Relief hit and shame lifted. 

We laughed the rest of the way home. Aidan laughing hardest, as he, quite innocently, created panic in me. 

Have you ever experienced that panic alert at the sudden sight or sound of a police cruiser? The kind that makes you feel like you’ve done something wrong, even when you clearly haven’t? Why do I cower in the presence of authority so often?

I hated how my guilty conscience went easily to cover up, excuses, and self-justification. It was almost instinctual, the speed with which it came. 

That got me thinking: What’s instinctual in how I relate with God? What’s my gut response? Am I cowering or living in the provision of Hebrews 10:22? “Drawing near to God with your whole heart…having been cleansed from a guilty conscience and washed in pure water.”

Often, I find myself trying to clean up, or check things off the proper list, before making any attempts in approaching God in prayer or in any other way.

Someone once told me, “When you mess up, do you run to God or run away from Him? Your answer will show you where your heart truly really is.” That’s been sound advice over the years and is still so today. Running to God is always the right direction, even when you feel guilt or shame. 

God’s not looking to catch us doing wrong, He’s looking to catch us drawing near. Real relationship with God and true prayer arises in that place. The guilt-free life is available and its contagious.

I’m thankful that this day, a distraction in the back of the car found me reflective in the front. Guilty, but free; corrected but not rejected; momentarily jostled, yet eternally steadied. 

Today, what are you running to?