A Moment of Kindness and Grace

As many of you know, I’m in the Lone Star State to be with my brother, who will undergo surgery for melanoma of the eye on October 20. The trip here has been smooth—well, mostly.

Somewhere along Interstate 20, I got pulled over.

Now let’s be honest: I was speeding. I deserved to be pulled over. I deserved a ticket.

The officer, speaking in a thick East Texas accent, couldn’t have been more courteous. He asked for my license and registration, then asked why I was in Texas. “Family,” I replied. “And what do you do in Ohio?” he asked. “I’m a pastor,” I said.

He took my documents and returned to his cruiser. And there I sat—waiting to see if I’d get a ticket or a warning.

A few minutes later, he returned, handed back my paperwork, and said with a smile, “Rev. Russell, you’ve got more souls to save. 75 mph is fast enough. You’ve got work to do for the Lord, so slow down.”

I thanked him (sincerely) and drove off—more slowly and with much on which to reflect.

We live in a world that runs on clocks and calendars. “The early bird gets the worm,” they say—and often that’s true. But we’ve also heard, “Slow and steady wins the race.” I confess I sometimes feel anxious about the pace of God’s promises. I want to rush ahead to the future God wants and ultimately will have—rather than patiently, faithfully, run the race marked out for us.

The writer of Hebrews offers this encouragement: 

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith…” (Hebrews 12:1–2)

This race of faith requires stamina, not speed. Endurance, not anxiety. It’s not about getting there first—but about keeping our eyes fixed on Jesus as we go. And we will get there—in God’s time.

Back in Ohio, I plan to send a letter to the Department of Public Safety to thank them for the kindness and good humor of one of their own. It was a moment of grace disguised as a traffic stop.

Running (but not speeding) with you on this race,