The Courthouse

1 Peter 3:15 “But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect”

It is amazing to me how God works through events and circumstances. If we are open to His call, we can be present at amazing moments of faith. They won’t be reported in the news or in church bulletins, but these moments are so significant that they change lives forever.

In 1994, I began teaching Introduction to Criminal Justice at Westmont College in Santa Barbara. This was a very cool opportunity as I graduated from Westmont in 1986. Since my expertise was in policing, I made it a practice of asking friends from other criminal justice disciplines to share their perspectives with my students. Class started at six in the evening and I would meet guest speakers at a local restaurant to share a meal before we headed to campus. I had no idea that one particular dinner would lead to a life changing moment. I would experience how God works through us to share his grace and peace.

Greg was an attorney working for the county prosecutor’s office. I met Greg when I appeared in court as the investigating officer for a misdemeanor, criminal case. Greg was new to the office and, after working with him, I felt he would be a great fit for the class. When the time came to talk about the court system, Greg agreed to speak and I agreed to buy diner. We met at Peabody’s Bar and Grill and the meal went as it usually did. We talked about family, careers and mapped out the presentation he would give in class. Greg asked me about Westmont College and I told him that the school was a Christian college and I was a graduate.

The conversation took a very different direction when Greg began to ask questions about the spiritual realm. Good and evil, angels and demons. The dialogue ranged all over the subject. After a time, Greg shared with me a personal experience he had with the spiritual world. He was trying to make sense of it. The conversation gave me an opportunity to share about what the Bible said in the context of Greg’s experience. I was also able to share a few significant moments in my life related to the spiritual encounters. I talked about how we are under the protection of the Holy Spirit through Christ’s death on the cross. It was a great conversation and shortly after that we headed up to campus. Greg did a fantastic job with the class and I looked forward to having him back a second time.

A few days later, I was back at work on patrol. As I was driving my police car past the courthouse, I saw Greg walk out of the building. I pulled to the curb to thank him again for speaking.

Greg and I spoke very briefly when Greg said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“I want to become a Christian and I don’t know how to do it.”

It was not the question I was expecting. In fact, nothing like this had ever happened to me before.

So here was the situation: I was sitting in a police car. Greg was standing on the sidewalk in front of the courthouse asking me how to accept Jesus into his life. What to do?

I picked up the radio and requested a lunch break. My request was approved (as if there was any doubt). I parked my car and we walked to a garden area on a quiet corner of the courthouse grounds. To anyone who walked by, it appeared that a police officer and an attorney were discussing a criminal case. There was so much more going on in that moment. I prayed with Greg, shook his hand and went on with the day. I was humbled that God would work through me and it all started with an invitation to speak to a college class on criminal justice.

When Grace Shines Though

Ephesians 2: 8-9 says, “For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.” There is peace that surpasses all understanding in this verse. I remember a moment as a police officer when my understanding of grace became very clear when I arrested an alcoholic, transient named Toby. 

It is a tragedy that the criminal justice system is the only answer for some addicted to drugs and alcohol. These people are so driven by their addiction that they neglect even their basic needs. These people wind up on the street and the only time they receive help is after they are locked up in jail. Jail becomes a place to sober up, get fed and receive medical treatment.

In Santa Barbara, I knew these people too well. I wrote them citations for possessing open containers of alcohol in public, aggressively panhandling and trespassing on private property. I took them to jail when they were drunk in public and when they had arrest warrants for failing to appear in court. It was a revolving door. They would not choose to help themselves and the only thing to do was to arrest them. I was the last stop.

One afternoon, I got assigned a 911 call for a man passed out in a flower planter off of State Street across from a high end, shopping center. The planter was part of a walkway that brought people from downtown to a parking garage one block away. Based on the description over the radio, I figured that it was one of the many transients I dealt with on a daily basis. I had done this hundreds of times before, but this encounter would turn out to be more of a God story than a Cop story.

I parked my police car in the garage and headed toward State Street. As I started down the sidewalk, I could see a very dirty man lying on his side, passed out in a planter. I knew the man by sight. It was Toby. If police gave out frequent flyer miles for arrests, he would be a platinum member. Toby was an alcoholic and lived on the street. I had arrested him so many times that I knew his full name and birthday by heart. Toby lived for one thing: alcohol. Nothing else mattered to him. His existence revolved around how to get to his next drink.

It was no wonder someone called the police. He was filthy. He had not bathed for weeks and was wearing the same dirt encrusted clothes he had worn for months. I remember his fingernails being so dirty they looked like a bad nail polish job. He passed out in direct sunlight. Great for flowers but not for Toby. He was dripping with sweat. His hair was matted to his head. I could smell him long before I walked up to him. I suspect that only his level of inebriation prevented him from being overwhelmed by his own odor.

Toby found a way to hit rock bottom and start digging. There was nothing I could do for him except arrest him and take him to jail. I knew that once at jail, his clothes would be put in a plastic, garbage bag; unwashed and reeking of body odor, vomit and filth. They would be returned to him in the same condition after he sobered up. He would get a sack lunch and released back to the street to walk the 5 miles back to State Street. I had no doubt that within the week I would be repeating the process of arresting and booking Toby.

I stood over Toby and looked at him. There was no lecturing, debate or discussion that would make any difference or cause him to get on the wagon. There was no one around; just Toby lying in the planter and me standing on the sidewalk. I took out my handcuffs and before I arrested him I said, “Toby, I sure hope you know Jesus.”

Toby looked up at me, raised his hand, pointed to the sky and with a thick slur said, “Jesus is my Lord, man”

In that moment, I understood that the total depravity of man meant nothing against the amazing grace of God. I would not be able to do anything for Toby. My only hope was that at least Toby understood that God loved him no matter what. I also understood that I needed grace as much as Toby.