The Greatest Crime Ever Committed

If you're not my Facebook Friend ... you might not know that I've been writing some blog posts for a website called Crime In Charlotte .com.  Well, it's true.  Usually we write all about crime stories.  But today I got to write about the Crucifixion!   I hope it stays on the website - but if by chance it has to come down, I thought I'd post it here too!  Happy Easter!

It’s Easter Sunday.  It’s the unofficial start of spring and a day to show off your newest, pastel-colored church clothes.  From singing “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” and finding Easter Eggs to a Sunrise Service followed by a dinner of ham and potato salad with the family, there’s a little something for everyone on Easter.  For me, and millions of other Christians worldwide, it’s the day we celebrate the resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Because today is the day of Resurrection, while in church this morning, I couldn’t help but think about the crucifixion.  The act of crucifixion as a form of punishment was probably the most brutal of all methods of executions.  The ancient Romans were masters of the death tactic – and used anyone hanging on a cross as a lesson to anyone watching.  “Act right, or you’ll be next”.

Ever since Cain killed his brother Abel in a fit of jealous rage, there’s been crime and punishment in the world.  God was the judge.  He imparted His sentences fairly and without bias.  And usually as a result of a sentence served the offender learned a great lesson and was considered reformed.  Many an examples of this can be found throughout the pages of the Old Testament.  But eventually it seemed like crime had run amuck and by the time Mary gave birth to a baby boy in a manger – the world appeared to be in need of a savior.

I’m not here to preach to you or write up some kind of Bible study.  I want to talk about crime and punishment – back in the day.  I believe the greatest crime ever committed was the one that landed Jesus in the hands of the Roman executioners.  His punishment for the crime was purposely humiliating.  They shoved a crown made from thorns down on His head and paraded Him through the streets of a hateful crowd.  They spat on Him, laughed at Him and cursed Him.  They beat Him brutally, whipping Him until His flesh ripped open and was hanging from His body.  He was forced to drag His own cross up the hill to His ultimate punishment.  He was sentenced to a slow and agonizing death by nailing Him to a cross.  He hung there by the spikes driven through His hands and feet for 6 long hours, suffocating and bleeding to death before He finally died.

So what was this greatest crime?   What crime did Jesus commit?  None.  Not one.  He was falsely accused by the religious leaders.  He was betrayed by one of His best friends and taken into custody by the guards.  He was brought before a counsel and tried.  He was convicted of blasphemy for saying He was the Son of God.  He was then at the mercy of the Roman Governor for sentencing.  The governor couldn’t see that Jesus had done anything wrong but was swayed by the large and unruly crowd screaming for Jesus’ blood.  And just like that – Jesus’ fate was sealed and He died on a cross for a crime He didn’t commit.  The crime was the rush to judgment, the mockery and torture of an innocent man.  At least, and fortunately for us, the story doesn’t end there!

But let’s say Jesus was just a regular guy, going around minding his own business.  He was a nice guy and stayed out of trouble.  We worked for a living, had a few friends and loved his mom.  But living in that part of the world was hard back then.  Laws were very strict and punishment was severe.  No one was free to worship or live the way they wanted, taxes were high, crime was rampant and the government was a tyrant.  It didn’t take much for an innocent man to die at the hands of a corrupt government or some over-zealous guard.  And it didn’t really matter.  Mercifully, we’ve come a long way.

As this Holy Week is coming to an end, I find myself grateful for many things.  I’m mostly grateful for the hope that comes as a result of that crucifixion 2000 years ago.  But I’m also grateful for the many lessons we’ve learned as a result of the Easter story. 

There’s still crime – lots of crime.  And there’s punishment.  But the punishment fits the crime.  (In this country, at least!)  Since the time of Jesus, many innocent people have been punished – even executed – for crimes they had nothing to do with.  Unfortunately it happens.  But now-a-days it’s the result of mistakes or someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.  Thankfully we now live in a society that values humanity and recognizes the importance of civility.  We aren’t snatched off the streets, accused, tried, convicted and punished without cause.  We have freedoms of speech and religion and we’re free to pursue happiness. 

And then in case we do happen to commit a crime, we’re handled gently and treated with respect.  We’re given ample opportunity to defend ourselves, tried fairly and given resources to reform.  And even in those cases where the death penalty is imposed, the government and the guards take great care to make the death row criminal as comfortable as possible.

And finally, there’s forgiveness.  We can forgive because we’re forgiven.

My point is this… stay out of trouble!  We don’t to have to write about you here on Crimes in Charlotte .com!  But if you ever do find yourself on the wrong end of the law, no matter your crime you can be thankful I’ll never have to write a story like this about you! 

Whatever your traditions are, I hope you’ve had a wonderful weekend.  Happy Easter from all of us at Crime In Charlotte .com!

The Mail Room Mission Field

A couple of years ago I was stubbornly unemployed for almost 9 months - 3/4ths of a year.  The economy was tanking and unemployment was higher than ever.  For every job I applied for - so did 300 other people.  I couldn't even get interviews or return calls.  It was when I was overlooked for a job at Pet Smart (Hello!!  Pet Smart?!) that I figured I was in trouble.  Because I had officially quit my last job ("Because I had to take care of my child" wasn't a good enough reason for the government) I was unable to draw any unemployment.  I lived off a little tax refund check, some monthly child support and whatever the Good Lord provided for 9 months.

It was hard.  It really was.  But looking back now I can't complain.  I spent my extra free time getting closer to God.  I depended on Him for everything and He provided for us at every turn.  It seems like we had everything we needed - and even some of the things we wanted!  I had the time to volunteer at the local food bank a few times and I got to go with my church on some of our little mission projects.  Matthew and I had the best summer ever, spending lots of quality time together at the local public pool or at Carowinds taking advantage of our seasons passes.  I was also available to take care of my mom if she needed me.  I didn't know it then - but she was quickly heading towards the end of her life on earth.  She needed me a lot.  And I was able to be there for her.  What a blessing unemployment turned out to be.

The more time I spent with God the easier it was for me to trust that He would take care of us in every way.  I completely surrendered my job search to him as every 'opportunity' I tried to force left me more depressed and defeated.  I quit looking for employment altogether.  One Sunday morning in church I was standing in the choir loft near the end of service.  The pastor was praying.  During his prayer, my heart started to cry out to God.  "Bless me, God", I pleaded.  "So I can be a blessing to others".  "Give me the job that You would have me do, Lord", I asked.  "And where ever you send me I'll do it the job the best that I can and I will always work to glorify You".

When church was over I was coming down the steps of the choir loft.  A woman who's name I didn't know but recognized as a visitor at the church was coming up the steps.  She stopped me and said "I heard you were looking for a job".

Well yes I was, I told her.  She went on to tell me that a friend of hers worked at a company in Charlotte.  She didn't know exactly what they did or if they even needed anyone - but if I sent her my resume she would send it on over to her friend.  I sent the church visitor my resume later that day and I didn't think much else about it.

The next day her friend called me and told me she had gotten my resume and I was exactly what they were looking for!  "What is it that you're looking for?"  I asked her, realizing that I didn't even know what sort of business it was.

They were looking for a person to work in the mail room of a Homeowners Association Management Company.  How I was "exactly what they were looking for", I have no idea.  Nothing on my resume was even close to anything mail room-related, I thought.  She asked if I could come for an interview the next day and I said "Yes!"

The place was a long way from my house.  It was only going to be part time and not much money per hour.  Had I seen the job in the want-ads I don't think I would have even applied for it, as I had no mail room experience or any desire to get mail room experience.  But I contemplated my prayer telling God that where ever He sent me I would go.

My interview went very well and a couple days later, after nine months of unemployment, wondering where the power bill money was going to come from, deciding between gas money and groceries and many meals of Ramen Noodles with butter - I was employed!!  I realized right away that getting that job had nothing to do with me.  It was a gift and it might as well have been wrapped in paper and adorned with a big, shiny bow from God Himself!

I think that understanding God's plan for your life is nearly impossible!  Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and believe that He knows what He's doing!  The mail room girl - I didn't get it.  At first.  But it wasn't long before I realized what an answered prayer it really was!  Right away I found Jesus-loving Christians in the place and there was even a Wednesday morning prayer group!  If Jesus was there then I knew I was in the right place!  And because I spent 9 months robbing Peter to pay Paul and paying my utility bills in order of which one was next to be disconnected, I would have gladly taken ANY job!  I wasn't digging a ditch (not that digging ditches is not a noble profession) and I was super happy with the awesome opportunity I had been provided!

Because I felt like God Himself lined up this job for me, I looked at it like I was walking into a mission field to do God's work.  I opened hundreds and hundreds of pieces of mail everyday and I would randomly pray for the people as I opened their envelopes.  Over the last 18 months of opening mail I've gotten countless "Tracts" - little pamphlets explaining the way to Salvation through Jesus Christ.  I would pray for those folks and their ministries.  We've gotten mail from disgruntled people - and I would especially pray for them!  There was a lady in one of our older communities who sent her check in every month.  According to her account she was a widow.  Her handwriting was very shaky and barely legible.  I thought maybe she had Parkinson's Disease.  Each month the writing on her check got worse and worse.  Every time I opened her mail I prayed for her.  It wasn't that long ago when we received a letter from her son, saying they were putting her home on the market and were trying to get her into an assisted living center.  A month or so later her checks stopped coming.  I was sad, as I'd grown to love that little lady and her shaky handwriting.  I spent a lot of time "just opening mail" but I also prayed during much of it.  I was close to God in my little mail room.

The mail room wasn't the only 'mission field'.  I went over to the post office everyday.  In spending a few minutes a day over the last 18 months picking up the mail I got to know the two ladies who worked there.  They always had church playing on the radio - and we've had countless small conversations on how great God is!  One of the ladies cried with me on my first day back to work after my mother died - and lifted me up in prayer right there in the post office.  That day was one of the darkest days of my whole life - and God put postal worker Monica on the job that day to remind me of the Joy that only comes from the Lord.

There was a lady standing behind me in line one morning at the post office.  She had on a pink sweat shirt and a pink hat with a pink ribbon embroidered on the front.  She looked like she'd been crying.  "Are you ok?" I asked.  She told me that she would be ok, but that she had just come from the hair salon.  She had been going through treatment for breast cancer and her hair had started to fall out.  "I just had it all shaved off", she continued.  She took off her hat and revealed to me her bald head.  "You're the first person to see it!"  she said, starting to cry.  "What do you think?", she laughed through tears.  By then I was crying myself and told her I thought she was beautiful.  I asked the lady if I could give her a hug and she said she needed that more than anything in the world.  I embraced the stranger and she cried in my arms.  I was grateful for that opportunity.  I think of her often and I hope that she's doing well.

I could write on and on about the blessing the mail room has been for me.  At the least is was a bi-monthly paycheck that fed my kid.  It was an answer to my mother's prayer - as she always hoped I'd find something that I liked and somewhere that would 'understand' if my son got sick and I needed to be home with him.  It provided some health insurance for me - something I didn't have before.  I found some new friends and a group of prayer warriors.  But at the most it was a God-led change of direction for my life and a specific stepping stone on the path that He planned for me before time began.  Is that a little dramatic for a mail room job?  Maybe so.  But that's how it feels.  I loved that job and I treated it like it was the most important position in the place!  I also did the job remembering the promise I made to God - that I work at whatever job He gave me to glorify Him.  I took pride in the work I did and I enjoyed it.  I've been given a new position at my company and I moved into my new office on Friday.  It sounds silly - but I'm a little sad about leaving the mail room behind!  So as I head into my new mission field I will continue to pray for the little mission field in the mail room and hope that the new mail room person loves it as much as I did!

Straight From Hell, Beelzebug Flew Into My House. A True Story

Lately I've come up with about 7 or 8 different ideas to write about.  All of them I'm working on but none of them have I been able to finish.  I'm hoping to knock one out tonight ... hopefully!  And so, in the meantime, I thought I'd post up a true story about the time a bug flew into my house!  I haven't been the same since...

I'm not a great big fan of bugs. If I see one I don't generally scream like a little girl and run away flapping my hands wildly over my head but in general, I don't like them. That's for sure. When it got dark outside tonight I turned the porch light on so the little neighbor girl could see to walk home. The light's been on a good hour and that's plenty of time for all the winged insects to draw near. What is it with the bugs and the lights? You can hear them banging into the glass of our front door, colliding into each other as they dive-bomb the light fixture. I remember when I was a kid one of our friends had a bug zapper. You'd hear the thing fry bugs all night long. In the morning you could look on the ground below the glowing deliverer of death to any bug that dared answer its gleaming call and see hundreds, if not thousands of sizzled and lifeless bug carcasses heaped in a pile. To put it simply, that was just gross. Oh, so back to tonight...

It's an unfortunate placement, a porch light is, right next to the front door. You need it to see who's knocking or to allow whoever's leaving your home to see the stairs so as not to fall and break a bone or twist an ankle. But after an hour or so of the light being on there seems to be a party of flying insects swarming just above head level and right at the main entrance of your house.

So Matthew's little friend had been gone for a bit and he needed to go out to the car to get something. He opened the door and I assume the back draft (or whatever it's called when you open the door and it sort of sucks air from the outside into the inside) created a vacuum and with that flew in the largest, gnarliest, most heinous winged spawn of Satan I have ever seen. It probably weighed 4 pounds and it's thick and brown exoskeleton seemed to be some sort of armor. I can't be for sure if it was intentional but it swooped down just over Matthew's head, it's flapping wings buzzing his precious blonde hair. Matthew let out a yell and dived into the floor covering his head with his little arms. I was caught off guard but as soon as I gained a little composure tried to devise some sort of plan. Matthew screamed at me to "GET HIM! GET HIM" which only made me anxious. "Stop screaming, Matthew!" I said. "I'll get him!" 

My original and poorly, albeit quickly thought up plan was to hit the bug with something, perhaps stun him enough to get him out of the house. I grabbed the first thing I could find - a lint roller - and I stood there trying to decipher his flight pattern armed with my sticky weapon. The nasty bug just banged himself against my ceiling and he was so quick motioned there was no way I would be able to get close enough to club him with (or stick him to) my lent roller. Realizing Matthew was still in a fetal position on the floor, I got him up and sent him onto his room. "Turn your TV on the Disney Channel and shut the door", I said. "Don't come out till I tell you... Mama's got this". And he hurried down the hall and slammed his door.

So back to the first bug that I thought might have a real shot at killing me, I surveyed my surroundings. I tried to shoo him with a dish towel to which he scoffed (if bugs do that). I was going to bash him over the head with my broom but figured I'd tear the house down trying to connect. The thing just erratically flew all over my living room periodically coming straight at me, causing me to let out screams and thrash about and dust myself off just in case he was somehow attached to me. Occasionally I'd open the front door and just hope he had the capacity to understand the way to save himself would be to fly out the opened door.  No luck.  Eventually, the death-beetle landed on the corner of my prized Velvet Elvis painting which was clearly crossing the line. No bug was going to lyte on my dear Elvis Presley hand painted on smooth, black velvet and get away with it.  So I grabbed a cup and a piece of paper. My plan was to put the cup over him, gently slide the piece of paper under him and trap him in the cup. And it worked - or at least I thought it did. I headed for the door with my captured creature planning to throw the cup and all out into the yard and slam the door behind me. But then I heard the buzzing. It wasn't coming from the cup at all but from the shirt I was wearing. I let out a blood-curdling, primal screech and lost my religion there for a minute as I did what only can be described as some sort of Tribal Ritual looking dance around my living room just trying to get the thing off me. Matthew yelled from his room "Are you ok?" and then I heard his door lock.

Mommy was not ok. This flying beast commissioned by the Dark One himself had just molested me. I felt like I needed a bath and a nerve pill to get the feeling of his his jagged little legs off my body. I had had it with this bleeping bug. I was trying to somehow just deliver him back into the outside world but no. He wanted to set up shop on my Velvet Elvis and hurl himself into my body with his full force? Well it was on. I called Mike (my vicious killing machine of a cat) into the house. He wanted to play rough? Well let's see how he would like to have his wings ripped off and then be batted around like a toy. And I was going to gladly watch the infliction of torturous  doom. It only took a second for Mike to notice the hellish invader. His eyes fixed on him when the bug finally landed in the blinds. Mike slowly and quietly climbed the couch and got into stealth mode, poised to pounce. A little flick of his puffed up tail and suddenly Mike let out a little chatter of a battle cry and hurled himself into the blinds with a force that nearly pulled the shades out of the windows. And the bug flew away again casually banging himself against the ceiling. Mike got himself untangled from the bent and crooked blinds and decided he'd rather go outside to play. He stood at the door and waited on me to open it. Another great idea flew right out the window. Too bad it didn't take the bug with it.

So that was the end of the messing around. I had to get this thing out of the house or there would be no sleep for me. Eventually the bug seemed to become confused (I'm assuming) and maybe a little tired.  He decided to take a bit of a rest on the ceiling. He parked it and hung out there for a few minutes. I figured if I was going to get him it was going to be now. Against my better judgement I picked up my broom again and stood there like a ninja for a minute just trying to get up my nerve. I figured I had one good shot to kill him. Anything less than perfect was just going to piss him off. I took a big breath and with a mighty swing gave it my all and whacked that bug as hard as I could wield a broom against the ceiling! And he started to fly. Mercifully he was flying all dazed and crooked. He landed on the floor and I must have beat that bug 20 times with my broom. I never did kill him but I took away his ability to go somewhere. There was nothing left but the matter of scooping up Beelzebug and sending him back through the portal from which he must've come. I was still scared. I've watched about 1 too many scary movies where the monster gets completely killed about 8 different times and just when you think the movie's over he leaps up swinging a blood-covered butcher knife and scares the living poo out of you. I grabbed my power bill and my cable bill and I figured I'd use one piece of mail to sort of push him onto the other piece of mail to carry him outside. I've got to give the bug some credit. Even after being beaten 27 times with a broom not only was he still alive but he had enough strength to cling to my carpet.  Not even the really thick Duke Power bill was strong enough to pry him off my floor. But my Bissell 12-Amp Power Force Vacuum Cleaner was. And with that the bug was gone. (After I removed the only half full vacuum cleaner bag from my vacuum, tied it up in a grocery bag that I threw into a large garbage bag and then threw into the trash can outside).

So my point is this... If you ever want to come over here for a visit at night, you're more than welcomed to come. But you might want to bring a flash light to navigate my steps. Because unlike Motel 6, I WILL NOT leave the light on for you!