This is a portion of the sermon for today, Christ the King Sunday.

Judgment Day
November 20, 2005
Matthew 25: 31-46

I’m so glad that God’s call to me was to seminary and not to law school. Truth be told, I think I’d make a terrible judge. And as a pastor, I’m a trained intuitor, not a trained observer of the cold hard facts. You see, I’m all about the feelings, most of the time, where as attorneys have to be about strategy, and precedent, and law.

Attorneys and judges are a very important part of our system; having a system of due process is one of the things that make us a democracy. But, oh my goodness, I’m perfectly happy getting my knowledge of the justice system from TIVO’ing reruns of The Practice.

I recently was pulled over by a sheriff’s deputy for making a left-hand turn that the plain-clothed deputy, driving an unmarked car considered unsafe. For a moment after those familiar blue and red flashing lights came on behind me, I was unsure what to do. I really wasn’t sure if it was me he was pulling over, I was driving around a curve, there was no shoulder to pull over into, and I started to get that sweaty-palmed shaky feeling of a person who has been caught at something—but she doesn’t know what. I slowed down considerably, looked into my rear-view mirror, and saw him gesturing toward the side of the road. My stomach did one of those little somersaults that happen when the adrenaline hits the bloodstream suddenly.

When I got to a place that was safe, I pulled over and was indeed dismayed that the car with the flashing lights pulled right in behind me. Telling myself calmly, “Just put the car in park, turn off the radio, and wait” was no help. A minute or so later he came up to the window and I rolled it down and looked at him, waiting for him to tell me what I had done. I knew what the first question would be: “Do you have a valid driver’s license?” “Yes, sir I do. It’s in my purse, which is in the trunk. I’ve just come from the gym. Should I get it for you?” “No, no yet.”

I knew what the second question would be because unfortunately, this was not the first time I had been pulled over for a moving violation. The second question is always “Ma’am do you know why I pulled you over?” I sat for a minute sweating because I knew I had to truthfully give an answer that the officer would not like. “I’m not sure, sir.” This was not exactly the contrite answer he was looking for. The deputy stated the statutory citation of the offence for which he had pulled me over, rattled off the exact dollar amount (to the penny) of the fine for failure to yield to oncoming traffic.

From there, the questions came faster. “Are you in a hurry?” “No officer, not really.” “Are you visually impaired?” “No, officer.” “Then why did you do this?” “Excuse me, sir, why? I’m afraid I don’t have a good answer to that question.” “Let me put it another way”, said the sheriff, “Are you naturally reckless or did you exercise bad judgment?” Ah, now I understood where this was going. The sheriff’s deputy was giving me the opportunity to punt. Given the two choices he was offering, it was rather obvious which one to go with. “I exercised poor judgment, sir.” That seemed to satisfy him for the moment. “Wait right here.” He went back to his car—to do what I’m not sure. I don’t know if his unmarked county car was equipped with the computer with which to look up the tags on the car or not. When he came back a minute later, I was prepared to get a ticket. I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I was prepared to.

And then, a moment of grace. The deputy told me that he was giving me a verbal warning, that I would not have to pay a fine and would not be assessed any points for my offence; but he strongly urged me to pay closer attention and to think more carefully when driving about how much room to leave when making a left-hand turn on a busy highway. “It’s not just you out there.” the deputy said before he walked back to his car.

I mumbled something brilliant like “Thank you sir. I will.” And drove off, still kind of shaky and unnerved by being pulled over, hyper-careful about my driving, and grateful for the second chance.

I’ve though a lot about how that simple reminder, “It’s not just you out there.” has effected my driving. The temptation to live our lives for ourselves and to effect our own gain is so strong, I know it is. It’s as if the whole world is speeding past us, and the feeling is that if we don’t get in the fast lane and keep up with traffic, we’ll get creamed. But if we’re lucky, we get that moment of grace that catches us before things get out of hand, and we get a chance to correct our behavior, and we get a simple reminder that we share this world with others.

The very last parable that Matthews’ gospel records is a strange mix of apocalyptic warning, call to mission, and foreshadow of what was to happened to Jesus. The late first century audience of Matthew’s gospel wants to know how to live and act to inherit the kingdom of God. In this parable, the author of the gospel reminds them—and us—that the way to bring in the kingdom is to first acknowledge that the kingdom belongs to Christ, and to then to act as if each person we meet is Christ himself.

The good news of the gospel this morning, brothers and sisters in Christ, is that the moment of grace, the just-in-time warning has nothing to do with luck, and everything to do with the love of God and the mercy of our Savior, Christ the King.
God is inviting us to share in the Kingdom by being the Kingdom here on earth. Thanks be to God!