Over The Pass
Sermon
Gospel Subplots
Story Sermons Of God's Grace
Gerald Carrier's mind was pretty much unoccupied for a dozen miles as he maneuvered the big station wagon around potholes and switch backs. He and his passenger, Richard Kaylen, had been neighbors and best friends for eight years now, and silences did not bother them. Then Richard spoke, "What did you think of Pastor Eric's sermon?"
"Well, I told you first time I invited you to worship he isn't the reason I attend church. I chose the congregation because it's conservative, but he's ignorantly conservative; and he started Catholic bashing again."
Richard laughed, "I thought that would rile you."
"I'm not a Catholic anymore, but I'd go to a Catholic church if it was the only one around. He blabbers about Catholics, but he doesn't know a one. He's talking about Catholics 100 years ago, or 500 years ago!"
Gerald's and Richard's sons slept in the back seat. Behind them in the second car were their wives and daughters. The two autos wound slowly down the graveled road through the mountain dusk. A week ago the children had loaded onto a bus at church to attend camp. This morning Gerald and Patti met Richard and Kathleen at camp for the last big day. The four parents inspected the cabins and the crafts, watched the races, prizes and presentations, heard the stories and songs, and joined in the final worship service. Now the two cars proceeded slowly on the gravel road, the women staying far back so not to eat as much dust. Gerald halted at the paved road, made sure he spotted the wives' car behind, and waited for a Frito Lay truck to lumber by before turning left onto the state highway toward the pass.
"I knew what you were thinking," Richard said, "but there's one thing he mentioned I can't shake. He insisted we don't need a confessional, we can confess to one another, and forgive one another in Christ's name."
"You know," Gerald said, "the confessional was about the only thing that really bothered me being Catholic -- and I can't say I was a very good Catholic. When I married Patti and agreed to worship in a Protestant church, I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I wouldn't miss the confessional -- sitting in a closet talking through a funny little curtain, hoping no one was standing too close outside the door. This is the one time I agree with Pastor Eric. There's no reason to tell a priest your sins. Any Christian can confess to any other Christian and be forgiven by Christ."
"But, Jerry, since you left the Catholic church, have you confessed your sins to anyone?"
"Well, yeah," Gerald answered after he readjusted his seat, "a couple of times, kind of."
"And have you forgiven anyone in the name of Christ?"
"Not actually, though I really think the problem of forgiveness is not so much God forgiving us. God forgives us, period. It's whether we'll forgive ourselves. That's the hard part."
They caught up to the Frito Lay truck, which geared down for the final climb to the summit. Gerald did not try to pass. The road took some dangerous turns, and it was completely dark now, so he would let the big truck lead them. Gerald was ready to put his mind into neutral again, but Richard continued, "If you've only confessed a couple times and never forgiven, then maybe the confessional isn't such a bad idea. How well do Protestants do without it? I can't get away from that part of Pastor Eric's sermon. He says there's no reason for any of us to go unforgiven. We can forgive one another for God. It's really bothered me because of going over this pass already today."
"What do you mean?"
Richard sighed, "I used to maintain this road for the State Highways Department."
"You've never said much about your former job."
"Probably not. This was not the best place for me."
Gerald just drove and waited for Dick to continue.
"In winter I used to drive a sanderplow, and had the twenty miles on this side of the pass as my section. I spent eight hours a night on graveyard shift driving back and forth, plowing and sanding." He paused. "It was ten years ago last winter we had record snow in February, but all of it came in the last twelve days of the month. Our crews worked 24 hours a day. I'd get out of the truck and the fellow from day shift would get in. The seat never got cold. We only stopped long enough for diesel, sand, or repairs.
"It was one of the worst nights, wet snow accumulating two inches an hour, the shoulder poles almost all covered, or knocked down. I know I was tired, and almost hypnotized by the snow in the headlights and the constant ring of the plow dragging on the road. I've thought it through, replayed it in my memory a hundred times, a thousand times, and I can't say for sure if I was looking straight ahead or to the left. I don't know what I was doing when I made a sharp right turn and in half a second there was a man in my lights, and before I could get my foot off the gas I hit him."
Dick gazed silently out the right window. Jerry kept his eyes on the back of the truck in front of him. He did not look at Dick.
"He died instantly. Nothing I could do. I radioed the police, and they came in a while, and an ambulance -- though I don't know why so many people responded. The autopsy showed his blood alcohol level was point 35 -- a wonder he could stand. He'd been driving down hill -- don't know how he got over the pass -- and lost control. Must have smacked into both sides of the road until stopping against my side. He couldn't have moved the car without a tow. But he got out and wandered down the road." Dick gazed silently out the right window.
"The whole scene was a nightmare -- the body, the lights of all the emergency vehicles, the radios popping off over loud speakers, all the police, and the constant snow, usually blowing sideways, and cars and trucks being waved around us, while I stood there freezing, two officers asking me questions.
"I didn't work for a week. That was standard, during the investigation and review. But when I went back it was on the same section, and I tried to be brave and not say anything about how it bothered me. I would get nauseated passing the spot -- a couple times I had to stop and vomit. At least they changed me to day shift so I didn't have to drive by in the dark, and there were only a couple more little snows that March, so I didn't have to go by the place much. Fortunately, that summer I worked on the other side of the pass, and we lived on that side too, so it was easier.
"When the next winter came I asked for a transfer, but that's when we had the reduction in force and no one was getting transferred for anything. All I could do was work or quit, and Kathy was pregnant. I had a different foreman by then and we didn't get along. Thinking back I'm not sure I explained myself very well; but all he said when I mentioned working a different section was that there were plenty of truck jockeys who wanted my job.
"So I was back on graveyard shift and I couldn't sleep, started getting headaches and then a bleeding ulcer. Kathy had Kevin to care for, and I wasn't much help with him or the rest of the kids. It was a horrible winter for me and for her too. When the next winter came, at the first snow I quit. Didn't know what I'd do, but I realized I wanted to move at least 100 miles away, which I did. That's when you got me as your neighbor, you lucky guy."
Jerry did not quite laugh, but he snorted a response.
"Today was the first time Kathy and I have been by the accident scene since we moved. We didn't say anything when we drove by. I'd been anticipating it every curve for 25 miles. I'm sure it gave her the willies too. That's why I didn't eat anything at the dinner. I appreciated you asking what was up, but I couldn't talk about it. Then Pastor Eric did his usual worst, and I was really angry at him, until he talked about forgiveness."
Dick fell silent. Jerry drove on, waiting for Dick to continue, but the silence dragged, both of them staring straight ahead at the truck they followed. Finally Jerry said, "I'm listening."
"I know, but this next corner is the place."
Jerry felt his hands tighten on the wheel and every hair on the back of his neck raise. Jerry was instantly aware of everything around him: the truck ahead with the large red Frito Lay sign on it, mud flaps with orange reflectors, and the small tunnel their headlights made through the forest. In the rearview mirror he saw Dick's car which Kathy drove. He could hear the two boys in the back breathing deeply in the exhausted, happy sleep of children going home from camp. He was especially conscious of the rigid figure to his right. He glanced at Dick as he turned his car sharply around the corner, but Dick focused straight ahead. Jerry looked past him, but there was nothing to see, just the shoulder of the road where a human had died ten years before. They said nothing for at least half an hour. They sat as close as priest and parishioner in a confessional, but without a curtain separating them. Jerry was praying as he had never prayed before, wishing he could help Dick, and telling God he would do what he could but he sure needed some ideas. For miles they drove in silence, until up ahead the truck merged onto the freeway. Dick spoke softly, "You believe you can forgive people for God?"
"Yes."
"Then, would you forgive me for God?"
Jerry looked left to merge onto the freeway. It gave him time to think. He quickly formulated three options, but when he spoke he said, "Dick, all I know about forgiving people for God is what I remember from the confessional. Okay?"
"That will do, I'm sure."
Jerry tried to recall the words which had been said to him every week for sixteen years. He could not remember exactly. It was difficult to concentrate because he was praying so desperately; but he ran through what he could remember of the ritual, and said, "Okay, this is something like the priest said: Dick Kaylen, I absolve you from your sin of killing ... what was his name?"
"Gordon, Gordon Wiedemeyer."
"Dick Kaylen, my friend, I absolve you from your sin of killing Gordon Wiedemeyer, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. That, I believe is straight from God to you, Dick. Now your response, if you really believe and accept what I said, is 'Amen.' "
Jerry looked in his rear view mirror, and expected Kathy was praying. He hadn't thought of her praying, but in that moment he now believed without a doubt she and Patti were praying for their husbands. He prayed and waited, and then in the dark Dick uttered one quiet word, but the happiest he had ever spoken to Jerry, "Amen." And Jerry echoed his friend, "AMEN."
* * *
Friends, we all have done things, intentionally and unintentionally, which have hurt others and haunted us. Yet none of us needs go unforgiven. Please bow in prayer and hold before God that for which you need to be forgiven.
Now in the name of Jesus Christ I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. If you believe and accept this forgiveness, please say, "Amen."
Discussion Questions
Text: John 20:23
1. What are your immediate responses to the story?
2. If you could have a conversation with one of the characters in this story which would you speak with and what would you ask or say?
3. Do you identify with any character in the story?
4. Have the consequences of an accident haunted you?
5. Was your early religious training helpful or hurtful to you? In what ways?
6. To whom do you talk about your faith? About your painful experiences? About your deepest joys?
7. When or with whom do you confess your sins?
8. Have you left a denomination or a religion? What of the religion you left still has value for you?
9. In that Christ rewrites our lives, what from this story would you like to have happen in your life?
"Well, I told you first time I invited you to worship he isn't the reason I attend church. I chose the congregation because it's conservative, but he's ignorantly conservative; and he started Catholic bashing again."
Richard laughed, "I thought that would rile you."
"I'm not a Catholic anymore, but I'd go to a Catholic church if it was the only one around. He blabbers about Catholics, but he doesn't know a one. He's talking about Catholics 100 years ago, or 500 years ago!"
Gerald's and Richard's sons slept in the back seat. Behind them in the second car were their wives and daughters. The two autos wound slowly down the graveled road through the mountain dusk. A week ago the children had loaded onto a bus at church to attend camp. This morning Gerald and Patti met Richard and Kathleen at camp for the last big day. The four parents inspected the cabins and the crafts, watched the races, prizes and presentations, heard the stories and songs, and joined in the final worship service. Now the two cars proceeded slowly on the gravel road, the women staying far back so not to eat as much dust. Gerald halted at the paved road, made sure he spotted the wives' car behind, and waited for a Frito Lay truck to lumber by before turning left onto the state highway toward the pass.
"I knew what you were thinking," Richard said, "but there's one thing he mentioned I can't shake. He insisted we don't need a confessional, we can confess to one another, and forgive one another in Christ's name."
"You know," Gerald said, "the confessional was about the only thing that really bothered me being Catholic -- and I can't say I was a very good Catholic. When I married Patti and agreed to worship in a Protestant church, I didn't know what to expect, but I knew I wouldn't miss the confessional -- sitting in a closet talking through a funny little curtain, hoping no one was standing too close outside the door. This is the one time I agree with Pastor Eric. There's no reason to tell a priest your sins. Any Christian can confess to any other Christian and be forgiven by Christ."
"But, Jerry, since you left the Catholic church, have you confessed your sins to anyone?"
"Well, yeah," Gerald answered after he readjusted his seat, "a couple of times, kind of."
"And have you forgiven anyone in the name of Christ?"
"Not actually, though I really think the problem of forgiveness is not so much God forgiving us. God forgives us, period. It's whether we'll forgive ourselves. That's the hard part."
They caught up to the Frito Lay truck, which geared down for the final climb to the summit. Gerald did not try to pass. The road took some dangerous turns, and it was completely dark now, so he would let the big truck lead them. Gerald was ready to put his mind into neutral again, but Richard continued, "If you've only confessed a couple times and never forgiven, then maybe the confessional isn't such a bad idea. How well do Protestants do without it? I can't get away from that part of Pastor Eric's sermon. He says there's no reason for any of us to go unforgiven. We can forgive one another for God. It's really bothered me because of going over this pass already today."
"What do you mean?"
Richard sighed, "I used to maintain this road for the State Highways Department."
"You've never said much about your former job."
"Probably not. This was not the best place for me."
Gerald just drove and waited for Dick to continue.
"In winter I used to drive a sanderplow, and had the twenty miles on this side of the pass as my section. I spent eight hours a night on graveyard shift driving back and forth, plowing and sanding." He paused. "It was ten years ago last winter we had record snow in February, but all of it came in the last twelve days of the month. Our crews worked 24 hours a day. I'd get out of the truck and the fellow from day shift would get in. The seat never got cold. We only stopped long enough for diesel, sand, or repairs.
"It was one of the worst nights, wet snow accumulating two inches an hour, the shoulder poles almost all covered, or knocked down. I know I was tired, and almost hypnotized by the snow in the headlights and the constant ring of the plow dragging on the road. I've thought it through, replayed it in my memory a hundred times, a thousand times, and I can't say for sure if I was looking straight ahead or to the left. I don't know what I was doing when I made a sharp right turn and in half a second there was a man in my lights, and before I could get my foot off the gas I hit him."
Dick gazed silently out the right window. Jerry kept his eyes on the back of the truck in front of him. He did not look at Dick.
"He died instantly. Nothing I could do. I radioed the police, and they came in a while, and an ambulance -- though I don't know why so many people responded. The autopsy showed his blood alcohol level was point 35 -- a wonder he could stand. He'd been driving down hill -- don't know how he got over the pass -- and lost control. Must have smacked into both sides of the road until stopping against my side. He couldn't have moved the car without a tow. But he got out and wandered down the road." Dick gazed silently out the right window.
"The whole scene was a nightmare -- the body, the lights of all the emergency vehicles, the radios popping off over loud speakers, all the police, and the constant snow, usually blowing sideways, and cars and trucks being waved around us, while I stood there freezing, two officers asking me questions.
"I didn't work for a week. That was standard, during the investigation and review. But when I went back it was on the same section, and I tried to be brave and not say anything about how it bothered me. I would get nauseated passing the spot -- a couple times I had to stop and vomit. At least they changed me to day shift so I didn't have to drive by in the dark, and there were only a couple more little snows that March, so I didn't have to go by the place much. Fortunately, that summer I worked on the other side of the pass, and we lived on that side too, so it was easier.
"When the next winter came I asked for a transfer, but that's when we had the reduction in force and no one was getting transferred for anything. All I could do was work or quit, and Kathy was pregnant. I had a different foreman by then and we didn't get along. Thinking back I'm not sure I explained myself very well; but all he said when I mentioned working a different section was that there were plenty of truck jockeys who wanted my job.
"So I was back on graveyard shift and I couldn't sleep, started getting headaches and then a bleeding ulcer. Kathy had Kevin to care for, and I wasn't much help with him or the rest of the kids. It was a horrible winter for me and for her too. When the next winter came, at the first snow I quit. Didn't know what I'd do, but I realized I wanted to move at least 100 miles away, which I did. That's when you got me as your neighbor, you lucky guy."
Jerry did not quite laugh, but he snorted a response.
"Today was the first time Kathy and I have been by the accident scene since we moved. We didn't say anything when we drove by. I'd been anticipating it every curve for 25 miles. I'm sure it gave her the willies too. That's why I didn't eat anything at the dinner. I appreciated you asking what was up, but I couldn't talk about it. Then Pastor Eric did his usual worst, and I was really angry at him, until he talked about forgiveness."
Dick fell silent. Jerry drove on, waiting for Dick to continue, but the silence dragged, both of them staring straight ahead at the truck they followed. Finally Jerry said, "I'm listening."
"I know, but this next corner is the place."
Jerry felt his hands tighten on the wheel and every hair on the back of his neck raise. Jerry was instantly aware of everything around him: the truck ahead with the large red Frito Lay sign on it, mud flaps with orange reflectors, and the small tunnel their headlights made through the forest. In the rearview mirror he saw Dick's car which Kathy drove. He could hear the two boys in the back breathing deeply in the exhausted, happy sleep of children going home from camp. He was especially conscious of the rigid figure to his right. He glanced at Dick as he turned his car sharply around the corner, but Dick focused straight ahead. Jerry looked past him, but there was nothing to see, just the shoulder of the road where a human had died ten years before. They said nothing for at least half an hour. They sat as close as priest and parishioner in a confessional, but without a curtain separating them. Jerry was praying as he had never prayed before, wishing he could help Dick, and telling God he would do what he could but he sure needed some ideas. For miles they drove in silence, until up ahead the truck merged onto the freeway. Dick spoke softly, "You believe you can forgive people for God?"
"Yes."
"Then, would you forgive me for God?"
Jerry looked left to merge onto the freeway. It gave him time to think. He quickly formulated three options, but when he spoke he said, "Dick, all I know about forgiving people for God is what I remember from the confessional. Okay?"
"That will do, I'm sure."
Jerry tried to recall the words which had been said to him every week for sixteen years. He could not remember exactly. It was difficult to concentrate because he was praying so desperately; but he ran through what he could remember of the ritual, and said, "Okay, this is something like the priest said: Dick Kaylen, I absolve you from your sin of killing ... what was his name?"
"Gordon, Gordon Wiedemeyer."
"Dick Kaylen, my friend, I absolve you from your sin of killing Gordon Wiedemeyer, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. That, I believe is straight from God to you, Dick. Now your response, if you really believe and accept what I said, is 'Amen.' "
Jerry looked in his rear view mirror, and expected Kathy was praying. He hadn't thought of her praying, but in that moment he now believed without a doubt she and Patti were praying for their husbands. He prayed and waited, and then in the dark Dick uttered one quiet word, but the happiest he had ever spoken to Jerry, "Amen." And Jerry echoed his friend, "AMEN."
* * *
Friends, we all have done things, intentionally and unintentionally, which have hurt others and haunted us. Yet none of us needs go unforgiven. Please bow in prayer and hold before God that for which you need to be forgiven.
Now in the name of Jesus Christ I absolve you of your sins, in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. If you believe and accept this forgiveness, please say, "Amen."
Discussion Questions
Text: John 20:23
1. What are your immediate responses to the story?
2. If you could have a conversation with one of the characters in this story which would you speak with and what would you ask or say?
3. Do you identify with any character in the story?
4. Have the consequences of an accident haunted you?
5. Was your early religious training helpful or hurtful to you? In what ways?
6. To whom do you talk about your faith? About your painful experiences? About your deepest joys?
7. When or with whom do you confess your sins?
8. Have you left a denomination or a religion? What of the religion you left still has value for you?
9. In that Christ rewrites our lives, what from this story would you like to have happen in your life?
