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.