The Depravity of Man and The Power of the God

Romans 6:23, “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

John 1:5, “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.”

Twenty-four years of being a cop exposed me to the evil that men do in ways I could never imagine. I witnessed firsthand how selfish choices driven by addiction, greed and rage destroyed the lives of the innocent. I did not fully understand what this meant until the day I responded to a 911 call to investigate an overdose death in Santa Barbara; and in a moment of heartbreak, I also saw how the Power of God will triumph over evil.

The death happened in a one bedroom apartment on the east side of town. I arrived at the complex and walked into what amounted to a 600 square foot living space; through the front door, down a short hall way, passing the bedroom and bath. The hallway opened to an area with the kitchen on one side and a couch and workbench on the other. The dining/living area was separated by a wood framed, cloth screen. It seemed odd that such a small area was separated by the screen. The body was lying on the floor of the living area between a couch and a workbench.

In the workbench was drug paraphernalia, syringes and other evidence that indicated sales of narcotics.  As I searched through the house, I figured out why the apartment was divided as it was. The dead man had two daughters (6 and 8) and they lived with him. They were at school when the overdose happened. The dad used the living area of the house to deal and use his dope. It was also the place that he slept. The single bedroom, bath and kitchen area were for the girls. Their room was equipped with a bunk bed, TV and VCR, children’s books, board games and all their clothes. It was like there was a studio apartment set up inside of the one bedroom space. I found out that the girls were not allowed in the living room area of the apartment to keep them “safe.”

I could not fathom why a parent would subject his daughters to such dangerous living conditions. Buyers would show up at all hours to get drugs. I imagined that at night, these little girls would not feel safe in their own home because strangers would be coming and going, preventing the girls from sleeping in safety. At least there was a lock on the bedroom door. Parents can be so overprotective.

I noticed the girls' school photos hanging on a wall. My heart stopped when I looked at the pictures. They were beautiful young ladies but did not have the appearance of healthy 2^nd and 4^th graders. They looked ill at ease. They appeared haggard, resigned to a life of uncertainty, stress and fear. Home was not a safe place for them. It was their eyes that got to me. They had puffy, dark circles under their eyes from very little sleep night after night. I had seen those eyes once before. They were my wife’s.

Early in our marriage, Margie told me stories about her growing up in a home defined entirely by alcoholism and violence. Her school pictures from kindergarten through fifth grade all had the same look: the same puffy, dark circles under her eyes and the same face of sadness. Margie talked about the drunken brawls, the police responses, the strangers in and out at all hours of the day and night. I just did not comprehend the impact of such a life on a 6 year old little girl.

I went home that night and told Margie about my day. We talked about how Margie would sleep in her clothes so she was always ready to take action. She would hide under her bed or behind and armoire so she would feel safe. Margie is quick to point out that God was with her through all of this. In fact, He told her to move to California many times during her late teens and early twenties. She listened and escaped to her promised land on the west coast. She would accept Christ and be baptized three months after she arrived in California and a few years later a life insurance salesman would knock on her door. She did not buy insurance from him, but she did marry him!  (Yes, I got the better end of the deal on this.) March 4th will mark 23 years of marriage for us and we have three beautiful daughters. We are blessed.

I pray now and then for the two little girls I met briefly in front of an elementary school. I do know that Margie is a testimony that even in the total depravity of human beings, when it appears that one little girl growing up in the 1970’s and two little girls growing up in the 1980’s would have no chance, the Power of God triumphs over evil and brings light into a dark world. 

Matthew 19:14, "Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'"

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.

If the Shoe Fits...

Meeting people where they are at does not always mean sharing the gospel. Scripture speaks of providing for the basic needs of people as part of sharing the grace and forgiveness of Christ.

On one particular night it was 3:30 in the morning, the middle of a graveyard shift. The weather was freezing cold and it was raining non-stop. The storm was rolling in from the north Pacific and it didn’t help that I had the police car heater running on high with the dashboard lever pushed to where the red bar was the thickest. Not even drinking hot coffee helped. Instead of warming me up, I was wired on caffeine and had to find a bathroom every half hour. My boots were damp and were like ice cubes after every traffic stop or call for service that required me to get out to the car.

I was driving on what was a normally busy Santa Barbara street that parallels the beach. At one particular intersection is Sterns Wharf. This is a popular tourist destination with a trademark, three dolphin fountain at the base of the wharf. Just to the east of the fountain is a public bathroom that is locked at night. Only a partially covered entrance provides any sort of shelter in the middle of a rain storm.

As I drove past the bathroom, I saw a figure standing at the entrance to the bathroom. I could see through the rain that the figure was a homeless man. City buildings were closed from 10:00PM to 6:00AM and that gave me “probable cause” to stop and contact the man. I pulled up in front of the bathroom leaving enough room to ensure a safe distance between my police car and the “suspect”. I used my radio to give my location and watched to be sure he made no quick movements to hide an open bottle of alcohol or run away to avoid arrest for a possible outstanding warrant. I turned on my police car spot light and shined it in his direction.

I made my approach and recognized the guy as someone I had written many citations to for possessing open containers alcohol or small amounts of marijuana. I had also arrested him for being drunk in public a number of times. This would have been a good night to find a reason to arrest him. The county jail facility would at least give him a dry place to stay and something to eat until the weather passed.

He had no warrants for his arrest and he was not drunk so I told him that he could not stand at the bathroom and that he had to move on. It was pouring at that point and he was soaked through. I felt bad that I was going to make him walk off the beach without any way of keeping the rain off.

“I got rolled tonight and they took my shoes.”

I looked at his feet and sure enough he was in socks. I could see his wet sock prints in the dry entryway that he left when he arrived at his current place of refuge. He had nothing. He was shivering and wet. He had no blanket. He had no home. It was 3:35am, freezing, raining and nothing to do but stand in the entry of a men’s bathroom to keep from getting wetter.

“Ok, you can stay here until the rain slows down but then you have to move off.” I told him and walked back to my police car. He said thank you. I cleared my call on the police radio with a warning.

I drove off and felt like I had to do something for the guy. I was really troubled that the guy had his shoes stolen. In a community where the price of a condominium was $500,000, how could a homeless guy get jumped for his shoes? I can’t remember if I prayed but I thought I would take a shot and drive to the Salvation Army shelter five blocks away. The shelter was not open at night but there was a night watchman. Maybe I could get the guy a blanket, a bed or even a pair of shoes. I knocked on front door and woke up a man sleeping on a cot in an office near the front door. I asked the watchman if I could get a pair of shoes. The watchman said, “I don’t have access to anything but let me look around the office.” Two minutes later he came back to the door and said, “I can’t find anything, but someone dropped off a pair of shoes when I came on duty and you can have them if you want.”

I took the shoes and climbed back in my police car and drove back to the bathroom. I was wondering if the guy would still be there when I got back and how I would find him if he was gone. I was not very confident that a pair of shoes dropped off at a Salvation Army would even help the guy.

The guy was still standing in the entryway when I pulled up. I did not call in my location on the radio, I did not park a safe distance away and I did not turn on my spotlight. I got out of the car with the shoes in my hand. Judging by the look on his face, he probably figured at first that a different cop was going to run him off. His expression changed to confusion and surprise when he saw I had returned a second time. He was even more surprised when I handed him a pair of shoes. “Will these fit?” I could see his mind worked to understand why a cop that wrote him tickets and put him in jail would take the time at 3:40AM to bring him shoes.

The shoes fit.

I think we were both a little surprised at this and all he could say was, “Thanks man.” The rain was slowing down and I told him he should leave. He walked off down the beach and I drove away. I said a prayer of thanks as God once again proved He was bigger than me.