— Chapter Twenty-Seven —
Saturdays were hard, especially in the summer. I usually spent Saturdays running errands and doing light cleaning or menial yard work. But this Saturday it was too hot to do anything, which made the day seem even longer. My thoughts wandered back to the snapshot of advice I had given the “Twenty-Something” Bible study group from church on the previous Thursday night.
“God is there for the lonely. Use those times to seek Him. Act on the fact that God has inked your name in His appointment book and that He will be expecting you!”
Yes, I knew what to do. With good intentions, I sat down on the sofa, bowed my head, and prayed, “Lord, here I am again. You know my struggle on this hot, sultry Saturday. I have no plans, no invitations to visit anyone. What can we do today? What is the significance of this day?”
I played tapes, which were getting a little warped, hoping to fill this empty feeling. I waited until the afternoon when the heat index dropped, then, out of boredom, cleared out the dead leaves that had collected behind the tool shed. I swept off the deck then went back into the house. No one was out, not even the dogs!
After a cool shower, I turned on the television—which I seldom did—and joined the ranks of couch potatoes. Nothing interested me as I surfed through my minimal allotment of channels, until I intercepted a live courtroom scene. Because I was working in a law firm, the dynamics of a legal encounter captured my attention.
The courtroom drama was about a prisoner who had served fifteen years on death row for killing a man. He was appealing his verdict before a jury to change his sentence from an eventual death in the electric chair to a life sentence. My interest peaked when I heard that his heinous crime had taken place on January 10. My husband left me on that same day. Now I was intrigued.
The defense attorney called credible witnesses on the prisoner’s behalf. One by one they told how the prisoner had touched his life from within the prison walls. An enlisted man, on his way to Saudi Arabia, shared how this prisoner had given him a reason to live after his wife said she would not be waiting for him when he returned. An old high school friend whose life was in shambles had been encouraged through his letters. Declarations of value continued with the prison chaplain. There was definitely something different about him.
The opposing counsel called the prisoner to the stand. He picked up a lead pipe and reenacted the blow which had caused death. The inmate bent over, crying as he put his face in his hands. So penitent, he was barely audible when he testified how wrong he had been. He knew that he had inflicted excruciating and unnecessary pain as his victim lay dying. He understood that he should be punished for his crime. “If I live,” he confessed, “It will be because of the mercy of the court.”
A clinical psychiatrist reported her findings concerning the background of the one whose life hung in abeyance. His young life had been difficult and extremely painful. From his earliest memories, he had been victimized in his own home. He was unloved and had been sexually abused. At the age of twelve he felt like unwanted trash after a relative handed him over for foster care.
The prisoner was recalled by the defense attorney. Even though he had experienced tremendous trauma in his early life, with great clarity he testified, “I am without excuse for what I have done.”
His statement astounded me. He could have used all kinds of excuses for his behavior, especially following the psychiatrist’s report. There truly was something different about him.
After closing remarks from both attorneys, the jury retired to deliberate. During that time, a TV interviewer spoke with the inmate. “What do you have to say?”
He answered, “One day I would like to have an opportunity to talk to the daughter of the man I killed.”
To that, the interviewer scoffed, “So you can say ‘I’m sorry?”’
“No,” he said, “What I did is beyond saying I’m sorry. When I took the stand, I looked briefly over at the daughter. It hurt so much to look at her—even for a few seconds—knowing what I had done to her father. But in that quick glance, I didn’t see anger. I saw pain. I caused her pain and I must live with that.”
Why was I so involved? Was I comparing two painful events just because they happened on the same day? I’m sure that was a small part in the beginning, but I didn’t want to measure my pain against one who lost his life. There was no comparison. But there was something I believe God wanted me to see.
I saw brokenness, repentance, grief, and admission of guilt. I watched him struggle for composure as he owned up to it all. He was a living example of repentance. All he could do was ask for mercy.
When the jury returned, mercy was extended. The program ended.
Mercy. We get what we don’t deserve.
There must be pain in the life of the one who imposed suffering on me. So I knelt down and prayed for the one who had caused my pain. I prayed that he, too, will be broken and repentant, seeking forgiveness from those he hurt so deeply. I will continue to pray that his heart will cry out, “God have mercy on me!” For only God knows true repentance, only He can interpret the meaning of one’s heart.
This, I believe, was significant!
“Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy loving kindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin” (Psalm 51:1, 2 KJV).
Copyright 2001, 2004 Donna Christensen
All rights reserved.
Published Online by: The Biblical Reader
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