Adoption Day

I worked patrol on Friday. It was my last opportunity to work the streets before flying to North Syracuse, New York to preach during an officer appreciation service. It was a beautiful, relatively quiet, Southern California afternoon. My partner and I worked a traffic car. We had no traffic collision to investigate and few calls for service. This allowed us to spend the better part of the day hunting for someone to put in our back seat.

My partner spotted a vehicle with an expired registration. Although it was a minor infraction, many-a-good arrests and war stories begin with a traffic stop for a minor vehicle code violation. I remember one late night, many years ago, stopping a car for an expired vehicle registration. Before I was through, I had two people in custody. The passenger was a wanted parolee who was armed with a knife. The woman driving the car was under the influence of methamphetamine. During a search of the trunk, I found a stolen computer and printer that the couple was using to counterfeit one, five, and twenty-dollar bills. The arrests and field investigation helped the Secret Service to clear several counterfeit cases in our area.

After my partner pointed out the expired registration, I ran the plate on our MDT (mobile computer). The return indicated that not only was the vehicle’s registration expired; it had been expired since March of 2005. Why was that significant? The registration tab on the license plate was a 2006 sticker—not 2005. What this meant to us was that the tab was likely stolen from another vehicle and placed on the car that was now in front of us so that the owner could defraud the DMV of annual registration fees.

This is a fairly common crime committed by people who either can’t afford the registration fees, or people who can’t get insurance or a smog certificate for their car (both are required in California), or people who just don’t want to pay the fees. Regardless of the reason for the presence of the fraudulently obtained registration tab, we determined to stop the car to see if we could take someone to jail.

The driver of the car was a 21-year-old girl named Christina. She told my partner that someone in of her classes at the local junior college gave her the registration tab. (The things kids learn in school these days). We also learned that her driver’s license was suspended for unpaid traffic tickets. My partner asked her to step out of the car, handcuffed her, and put her in our back seat.

I sat down in the front seat and started the paperwork while my partner prepared to impound Christina’s car for thirty days. Christina’s day was going from bad to worse.

Christina sat quietly in the back seat. Through the meshed, black metal screen that separated us, I could see tears running down her cheeks. I asked a question, the answer for which I was confident I already knew. “Have you ever been arrested?”

“No.” She answered. The next thing she said caught me by surprise. “I’m suppose to be adopted today, at 1:30.”

I found the statement to be unusual, since Christina was a young adult. I planned to inquire further, but, for now, I had to get through my paperwork. Once the tow truck arrived and secured the vehicle, we mad the six-mile drive to the station.

As we started for the station, Christina asked me if I thought she would make it to court on time, for the adoption hearing. I gently explained to her that she was arrested for a felony. Even if the bail commissioner granted her an O.R. release (own recognizance), which was likely, it would be several hours before she was released. She wept.

Curious, I asked Christina to explain how it was that she was being adopted. She shared the story of a young girl abandoned by her mother. At the age of fourteen, she suffered a brain aneurysm. Her mother never so much as called to see how she was doing.

Christina’s father remarried. Her step-mom loved Christina as if she were her own daughter. While basic biology can make a mother, it takes more that that to be a mom. In Christina’s case, the “step” in step-mom may appropriately identify a blended family, but it does not describe the amount of love between this mother and her child.

Recently, Christina discovered that it is legal in California to adopt adults. Christina’s step-mom did not hesitate when Christina shared the news with her. This was supposed to be a day of rejoicing, with the finalization of Christina’s adoption. The adoption would take place, but not today. Instead of standing before a judge to be blessed, she was beginning a journey that would end with her standing before a judge to be sentenced for the crimes she had committed.

As I listened to Christina’s story, I felt compassion for her. Seeing the look on my partner’s face, I could tell he was feeling the same way. The fun we had hoped to have in making this arrest was gone.

Listening to Christina’s story reminded of the following passage of Scripture.

"For all who are being led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God. For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, "Abba! Father!" The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him in order that we may also be glorified with Him" (Romans 8:14-17).

We were only a few minutes away from the station. My time to talk to Christina in the quiet confines of the patrol car was short. I tried to justify in my mind that there wasn’t enough time to share the gospel with her. Then the Lord quickly reminded me of something I said to my home church during a Sunday morning sermon.

"Jesus had a very deep, gut-level, intense, emotional attachment to the lost. It’s the kind of emotional attachment that compels a person to do something for the other person. So, in a very practical sense, if you see a lost person’s need for salvation—whether they are family, friend, or stranger—and you commit the sin of silence and do nothing to share the gospel with that person, then the reality is that you feel no compassion for that person. Your feelings for that person may be genuine, but your feelings do not run so deep that you will care enough for them to bring them the only Good News that can change their life—the gospel of Jesus Christ."

I looked at Christina’s driver’s license and noticed that she was wearing a crucifix, in the photo. I mentioned this observation to Christina. She said, “I’m Catholic. I received that necklace as a gift when I went through confirmation. I noticed the back of your shirt says ‘chaplain.’ Are you a chaplain?”

“Yes I am.” I answered.

“That’s wonderful.” She said softly.

“Christina, would it be all right if I posed a hypothetical situation to you?” I asked.

“Yes.” She answered.

I proceeded to share the courtroom analogy with her. I learned the courtroom analogy from my evangelism mentor, Ray Comfort; and the analogy is featured in the last chapter of “Take Up The Shield.” Most of you know the analogy by now, and I hope you are using it when you share the Law and the gospel with the lost. But for those of you who are new to the Ten-Four family, let me share it again, as I shared it with Christina.

“Christina, you know you are going to have to go to court because of what you’ve done today.” I began.

“I know.” She said. Her face was still wet with tears.

“Let’s say that when the time comes for you to stand before the judge, having been found guilty for your crimes, and the judge looks at you and says, ‘Christina, you have been found guilty of the crimes you committed, and it is time for me to sentence you. I sentence you to a $100,000 fine or life in prison.’

“You can’t believe what you just heard. You don’t have $100,000 and you don’t want to spend the rest of your life in prison, so you plead with the judge. ‘Your honor, I’m sorry for what I did. I promise I will never do it again. The punishment doesn’t seem fair. Give me a break. Please let me go.’

“The judge says, ‘I’m a good judge. And because I am a good judge I have to hold you accountable for your crimes. Justice demands that you be punished for what you have done. You have broken the law.’

“Just as the judge is about to send you to prison for the rest of your life, a man walks into the courtroom—a man whom you have never met. He walks forward to the judge’s bench a lays $100,000 in cash, before the judge. The man looks at the judge, points to you, and says, ‘I’m paying Christina’s fine. Set her free.’

“The judge looks at the cash payment, sees that your debt has been paid in full, looks at you, and says, ‘Your fine has been paid. Justice has been satisfied. You’re free to go.’”

I looked at Christina and asked, “Wouldn’t that be good news, Christina?”

“Yes.” She said.

I continued. “Well, Christina, that’s exactly what Jesus Christ has done for you. Jesus Christ, God in the flesh, the sinless Lamb of God, died on the cross to pay the full penalty for your sins—a debt you will never be able to pay.

“Christina, you’re only hope to avoid the just penalty for your sins against God—eternity in hell—is to repent of your sins (turn away from them) and trust in Jesus Christ alone for your salvation.”

She was weeping bitterly now.

Knowing a little about Christina’s religious background, I said, “Christina, religion won’t save you. Traditions and rituals won’t save you. Your good works won’t save you. Only the sacrificial death and resurrection of Jesus Christ will save you. Only real faith in Jesus Christ will save you. And it’s not enough to believe in your head. You must believe in your heart and trust in Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior. Repent of your sin. Stop living to please yourself and live for Christ.

“Christina, here is something that I know will mean a lot to you—especially today. If you repent and trust in Jesus Christ to save you, not only will He forgive your sins and give you the free gift of eternal life, but He will also adopt you as one of His own children. Isn’t that beautiful?”

“Yes it is.” She answered.

We pulled into the station parking lot as Christina answered the question. Before we walked Christina into the station jail for booking, I asked Christina if she understood what I had shared with her. She nodded her head. Understanding that I may never see her again, I urged her to carefully consider what I shared with her. She said she would.

My partner and I took Christina through the booking process and we booked our evidence. We went 10-8 (in service), hoping to go 10-15 (make an arrest) again. As we drove around town, I asked my partner (who is also a Christian) what he thought about what I said to Christina. He said the encounter challenged and encouraged him to be bolder and more consistent when it comes to sharing his faith.

The encounter with Christina also served as a timely reminder for my partner—a reminder that there is more to the job than taking people to jail, handling calls, and trudging our way through the daily frustrations and disappointments the job can bring. We are on the streets to help people. And there is no greater help we can give than the compassionate presentation of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Pray with me that her new mom will adopt Christina. Pray that Christina will also be adopted as a child of the one, true, God—through faith in Jesus Christ alone.