Fragments

There is something you need to understand as thoroughly as possible as you read the following account. Everyone who knows me well knows that I am just a regular person, with more than my share of flaws. This event is not an account of a special person. It is an account of a normal person who, by the grace of Christ and by a desire for New Testament obedience, is connected somewhat to a very present God. I do not relate this event to show off. I relate it to attest to the working of God in the lives of normal, flawed people, and to show that biblical experiences are still happening today.

It took place near Malibu, California early in the summer of 1983. My wife Kathy and I had been new parents for about 6 months. We had made that common new parent mistake: working and trying so hard to be good parents that we were completely exhausted from the effort. So we decided to leave our son with his grandma for a day while we took some time to be alone together, lay on the beach and relax.

The beach we drove to is right next to the coast road. People park along the road. There is a short descent from the road to the beach. Though the descent is short, it is so rocky that one must first walk to one of the pathways, located every 75 yards or so, that have been cut through the rocks. Kathy and I did this, then began laying out the blanket, towels, etc., in preparation for our relaxing afternoon. We were surrounded by many others who had also come to the beach that day, perhaps a total of 300 were scattered a hundred yards in each direction up and down the beach.

At that moment, the gentle peace was severely disturbed by the sound of a screaming man. The disturbance was so rude and loud that everyone stopped to look. Next to one of the parked cars along the road, a man of about 30 was exploding out of control with rage.
Everyone on the beach found out immediately the occasion for the outburst. The man was screaming at two boys, each about ten years old, who had unloaded some beach gear from the car and then locked and closed the doors with the keys inside. The boys were cowering as the man literally jumped, first toward them, then back at the car, then again at them, and so on, with his hands waving, his fingers pointing, his voice booming, and his body barely able to contain all the violent energy.

Several years prior to this moment, I had made a commitment to God that if I ever witnessed the mistreatment of a child, I would intervene – no matter what the situation was, and no matter what cost. I remembered this commitment, dropped whatever I had in my hand, and began walking. Kathy knew of my commitment and understood where I was going.

Because of the rocks, I was unable to go directly to the disturbance, but instead had to walk about thirty yards up the beach to one of the paths before making my ascent. When I began this walk, my breathing was heavy, my heart was pounding with fear, and my hands were trembling. At that moment, I was engaged in what I call raw obedience. Then I prayed something like, God, I’m scared to death. I have no idea what I’m going to do when I get there. But I can’t stand and do nothing. Whatever happens, may you break into this moment and redeem the situation as only you can. Have mercy on us all. By the time I made it up to the road, my internal world had completely changed. Still not knowing what I would do or say, I was now calm, gently empowered, filled with love for the man and the boys, and confidently anticipating whatever God would do.

During my entire walk to the man’s car, he continued his tirade at the same fever pitch, so that it was still going on even when I arrived. Walking up to the man’s car, I put my hand in the pocket of my swimsuit, removed my own car key, put it into the door of the man’s car, and turned it easily, unlocking the door.

When the man saw his car door standing open, his rage turned to a kind of disjointedness as if he had just been running till speed in one direction with his arms lull of rocks, and now had to stop and run in the opposite direction without dropping anything, and noticing that the rocks were turning to sand.

He stuttered, “What.. .you. . .that.. .it. . . how… while his eyes dashed wildly about, looking first at the car door, then at me, then at the b then back at me, etc. Finally, he was able to eke out a sentence, “How did you do that?”
It needed to be done, I said

There was a long pause, after which his manner softened considerably. He walked over to me, looked one more time at the car door, then turned back to me. “Thank you,” he said, with more than a hint of amazement. “What can I do to thank you?”
Glad you asked, I replied. Two things. First of all, you can apologize to these poor kids and beg their forgiveness, because you have abused them. You have treated them in a matter that is all out of proportion with the seriousness of their mistake.

Yes, I will.

“Secondly, you need to understand what a very serious problem you have…” [Here, I will skip the exact words of my response. As I said, the emphasis needs to be, not on me, but on God’s unusual provision.)

I began the return walk back to my wife.
When I got back to the head of the pathway that would lead back down to the beach, I looked down from the road for the first time and saw that many were motionless and gazing up toward the boys, the man, and me. May they never forget that God is always in their midst.

And when I got back to our spot on the beach, I looked back up to the car. The man had gotten on his knees, was holding the boys close to himself, and was gently, tearfully sharing with them whatever was on his heart.