Christian Living

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Whose Burden?
©
by

Stephen A. Peterson


It was February 26, 2004 the day after the Mel Gibson’s “Passion Of The Christ” when I tried to park my car close to the entrance of the Wal-Mart Super Center on the far west side of Oklahoma City just off of Interstate 40. Sick with a stomach flu and a splitting headache, I wanted to purchase medication quickly to avoid an accident. I found I could have parked closer but it was impossible because two cars were parked so carelessly that they had taken up four spaces. Not wanting to embarrass myself, I drove away angry. As I did so, I thought of a laundry list of other recent evens where I, the innocent, who tried hard to obey the laws of God and the rules of Caesar, was made to pay the penalty for them, the guilty.

When I stayed in a hotel or motel on reserve military duty, on my bill I found I helped pay for, sheets, bedspreads and carpets that had to be replaced because of cigarette burns. I do not smoke. I was told I paid for face clothes and/or towels people took from their rooms. I do not take these items as it is not right nor are these items very good anyway for the most part (El cheapo Supremo).

My car insurance pays for accidents, I was informed, caused predominantly by persons who speed well above the speed limit, who drink alcoholic beverage before and as they drive, used illicit drugs or in a hurry to get to wherever. I avoid all knowing that accidents can and will undoubtedly occur and because I hate the thought of not being in control of my mind.

I pay taxes for people receiving food stamps and other public assistance going to a higher than I would like to see number who refuse to work though younger and healthier than I am, for criminals in prison, abortions for unwed mothers, who, for the most part lack personal, self-control, teens and adults of all ages whose sexually transmitted diseases are at epidemic levels with or without a condom because most will not admit to or deal with their sexual addictions and for work crews to pick up pop cans, paper and trash strewn along the highways.

Everywhere I look, the sins of the other people cost me something—money, freedom, security. It just did not seem right!

Then as I made the 60 mile drive to Shawnee Christ seemed to say in the silence of the car: “Steve, I bore all the sin, sickness, and depravity of the whole world for all time! Since my sacrifice, humankind has laughed at Me, doubted My love, concluded that I never came to earth and cursed My Name! I even died, a painful, merciless death for all of your wrongful thoughts, words and deeds!”

My heart sank.

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