July 14, 2016 (Thursday)
I think it was in early 1950 when it happened. I went into the little cafe across the street from the Freshman Dorm in which I was living at the time, to have breakfast. I ordered pancakes. When I took the first bite, I discovered a toothpick in the pancake. A second bite revealed another one, and I soon discovered that all the pancakes were loaded with toothpicks.
You see, I had temporary use of my stepfather’s automobile and he and I, with a mutual friend of ours had visited our homes in Houston over the weekend. The mutual friend was my room mate and I had asked him if he wanted to go with me. He did, and invited the other boy, his friend, to ride with us.
On the way back to Waco, between Hempstead and Navasota, the car began steering eratically. I pulled over, got out and looked and saw nothing wrong. So I started the car and pulled forward, but found steering difficult. We decided to go back to Hempstead to see if a mechanic could be found, so I made a u-turn on the highway, but when I got to the other side, facing the opposite direction, the front left wheel collapsed. A spindle axle had broken. Fortunately, the car was off the road on a grassy “shoulder.”
A driver stopped to inquire about us, and gave us a ride to Navasota, which he said was closer and was the direction he was traveling. We spent the night in the bus station, waiting for the next bus to Waco. My two riders took the next bus while I arranged for a mechanic, towing, etc. and got the car fixed the next day.
The boy who put the toothpicks in my pancakes was the second rider in my car. He blamed the inconvenience on me; hence, toothpicks.
I ate the pancakes, culling the toothpicks. I figured out that he was angry with me. I would have returned his money for the ride, but, oh wait, he never offered to pay me anything. The ride was free. My room mate and I were just as inconvenienced as he was, but he never noticed that. Not only that, but an awful consideration seemed to escape all three of us boys: we had narrowly escaped death; the wheel broke when were parked, not when we were traveling at 60 mph.
A few weeks later, I saw him waiting for a ride in a little shelter built for students and military as they waited as hitch hikers for rides home. I don’t remember if I offered him a ride. What would you have done?
I’m not putting myself in the place of Jesus in the remotest way, but wasn’t He mistreated because he was trying to help us? They didn’t put toothpicks in his breakfast; they drove nails through his hands and feet. Yet he prayed, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
Someone has said, “Forgiveness is a lovely idea, until you have something to forgive.” When we have opportunity to forgive, let us always remember that Jesus has forgiven us our own sins.