Anybody out there remember a hit song from around 1970 called “Indiana Wants Me”? The lyrics are supposed to be a love letter written from a wanted killer to his wife just as the police are closing in on him.
I can relate. Okay, not really, because I absolutely never killed anyone. But I may have sort of, kind of, broken an Indiana law when I got my first driver’s license.
Back in 1973, I’m pretty sure you weren’t allowed to graduate from a learner’s permit to a real driver’s license until 30 days after you turned 16. But I didn’t want to wait that long.
I’d already taken a driver’s education course at fancy training facility operated by Indiana State University. I’d spent hours in a classroom and gotten up at the crack of dawn on many Saturday mornings to drive with an instructor to pass that class.
Let me digress to add this: Being a driving instructor is near the top of my list of “Jobs I Never Ever Want to Do”—right up there with skyscraper window washer and bomb disposal expert.
Anyway, I passed the driving course and turned 16 on May 14. On May 15, if I remember correctly, I somehow convinced my dad to take me to the license bureau to try to get my license. I think he assumed that when you turned 16, it was legal to get a license. I didn’t feel the need to enlighten him about the 30-day waiting period.
I figured the folks at the license bureau would just turn me away if I was, in fact, 29 days too early. I’d heard chilling tales about the surliness of Indiana license branch employees, but I felt it was worth the risk.
And now, for another digression: What’s up with so many teenagers these days who don’t seem anxious to get a driver’s license? Back in my day, it was the Holy Grail of adolescence. Of course that was before social media … and cell phones … and video games … and Uber. Yes, I am ranting like a certified old person.
But, back to my story. The most amazing thing happened when I went to get my license. I wasn’t turned away. I wasn’t rebuked. I wasn’t even questioned. Life before computers did have its advantages and I guess I was lucky enough to encounter a clerk who hated doing math as much as I do.
I showed the lady my learner’s permit, took the written test and—voila!—she handed me my license. I think I heard angels singing.
But now, 46 years later, I still have an irrational fear that someone may come knocking at my door to take my ill-gotten license away. And now that my conscience is more fully formed, I also feel a pinch of guilt about it all.
My possible crime is pretty small potatoes, even if it means I can never run for president, but I’ve met a number of people who are dogged by fear and guilt about a far bigger issue, as they wonder whether they’re good enough to get into heaven when they die.
But there’s really no need to wonder. The Bible is clear: We’re absolutely not good enough. I’m not. You’re not. But Jesus was, which is why only He could be the perfect sacrifice for our sins and we can be saved only through faith in Him.
Jesus offers us freedom from both fear and guilt. His salvation covers both, which is very good news for a lawbreaker like me.
“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. (Ephesians 2:8-9).”