My Brush With Death

A couple of weeks ago Merriem and I were on a hot date (translated: running errands to pick up stuff at Target).  We were going to make a quick stop at the Hot Date Breakfast Spot known as Chick-Fil-A on Hillsborough Road when we just about bought the farm, kicked the bucket, met our maker, and all sorts of other death-related terms rolled into one.

We were getting off of 15-501 south and sitting at the red light on Hillsborough.  Our light turned green, and I started to make my move known as “driving normally.”  Then out of nowhere a massive dump truck the size of one of those mother ships in Independence Day blew through the light and came within inches of sending us to that Hot Date Spot in the sky.

For the rest of that day I mulled over the fact that I came so close to death, because let’s face it: if my 2003 Trailblazer gets t-boned by a dump truck, it’s not going to turn out well.  After contemplating my brief toil on this terrestrial ball, here’s what I came up with:

I’ve been here before.

Actually, we all have been here before.  We’ve all been going about our day, minding our own business, when the dump truck of punishment for our own sin comes barreling down on us.  We’ve all been just nanoseconds away from death…a death we were neither prepared for nor aware was coming.  

And then God, in his matchless mercy, laid the full brunt of our sin on his son, and we were spared.  And just like I spent the rest of the day marveling in what almost took me out, I spend my life marveling what happened that not only spared my life, but my soul.

Today, focus on the price God paid to stop the truck.  And marvel…marvel at the depth of your sin.  Marvel at the span of his grace.  And marvel that the latter could cancel out the former.