…The problems started innocently enough: My husband Jim asked me to paint the outside of the large playhouse he built for a customer. Sounded simple, but I had no idea about the problems awaiting me.
With the customer’s color chip in hand, we went to get paint, but the store didn’t have the formula for the right tint. I tried to show the saleslady that it was between two different shades and needed extra colorant. But, my husband said, “Don’t worry honey, this lady’s been coloring paint a long time, you just let her handle it.”
I knew trouble was brewing. And then the weather turned nasty.
The next morning I bundled up with heavy pants, three shirts, plus coat, hat and gloves. This playhouse was the size of an average room: ten feet by twelve feet. That’s a lot to paint, especially on such a miserable day. The painting seemed to take forever, but finally I was done; I washed the brushes and staggered into the house.
That evening, Jim looked at the playhouse and said, “That’s not the right paint color; it won’t match the customer’s house.”
Fire blazed out of my eyes, smoke came out of my ears and I said, “I told you!” He replied, “Sweetie, we have to paint it again.”
I tried to act nice and spiritual, but underneath I was frustrated beyond words. I would not have called my feelings “strife” but I was a textbook example of controlled anger.
Without telling me, Jim drove to the hardware store and tried to guess what colorant might adjust the paint. I could have told him what to get, but he didn’t ask me. Humph!
He bought red colorant but not the yellow that was also needed. I told him a thing or two about his choices so far. He calmly informed me the store closed early on Saturday and it was too late to get the other colorant.
I think my hair was standing on end by this point. I stirred and muttered and splattered the red colorant into the paint, knowing this was not the real solution. Jim paced the floor and said, “Hurry, we’ve got to get this painted.”
Now, I’m a patient person, but this pushed me over the edge. I honestly didn’t care anymore if it matched the color sample or if it all just blew to hell.
We bundled up to endure the miserable weather and started working. I painted on one side and Jim painted the other.
Jim was especially kind as we worked but I (usually the calm one) was downright furious and struggled to hide it. I thought, “That dirty rat; this is a horrible way to spend a Saturday afternoon.”
Usually I like to paint, anticipating the finished product, but this felt like torture. Load the brush. Paint. Shiver in the cold wind. Load the brush. Paint.
As I bent over once again to dip the brush into the bucket of paint, I was startled to see a huge chunk of wood sticking straight up out of the sand right next to me. I stared in puzzlement, “What’s that piece of wood?”
I looked up and was shocked out of my mind to see Jesus hanging on the cross, not more than three feet away from me. I stood up in amazement, paint dripping all over my shoes, my mouth hanging open.
Jesus spoke to me from the cross, “Is this enough to pay for Jim’s sin?”
Enough? Yes! It felt like my heart would burst in distress. Yes, that is enough to pay for Jim’s failings. How could I compare the wrongness of Jim’s actions to the unfathomable payment of Jesus dying for Jim’s sins?
I staggered back, “My God, what was I thinking?” It came into focus that Jesus died for Jim’s sins, yet here I was furious at him. My mind whirled in amazement at my own self-righteous and condemning thoughts.
Not a word was spoken aloud; all this was a picture in my heart (although the paint on my shoes was really there). With tears streaming, I nodded my head to Jesus and silently thought, “Yes, that payment is quite enough.”
At that very instant Jim ran around the side of the playhouse, grabbed me in his arms and kissed me saying, “Honey, I’m so sorry I put you through all this. Will you forgive me?”
This astonishing experience permanently changed my life and made my understanding of salvation come alive. I realized that faith is the one thing we do that God calls right; this is the righteousness of faith. All we can do is stand at the foot of the Christ’s cross and nod our heads “yes” as we wholeheartedly trust God.
MARIJO LAVINE HICKMAN • NOV 2014
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