"Don't unroll the window," I warned as Bill slowed to a stop and waited for the car ahead of him to turn right onto Cicero Avenue.

"Don't do it," I said again as he reached for the switch to lower the driver’s-side window.

"I want to hear what she has to say," Bill explained.

This is not going to end well, I said to myself as the disheveled woman who had flagged us down approached Bill's side of the vehicle.

"My car broke down around the corner," she said, getting right to the point. "All I need is a bus ticket to get home."

In the seconds that followed, I sat quietly as Bill asked probing questions and the woman struggled to answer them.

"It's time to go Bill," I said as I pointed to the car ahead of us, which had already turned right.

Sensing that her window of opportunity was literally about to close, the woman pushed her upper torso into the van until her head was between Bill and the steering wheel. 

"Please, I got two kids at home," she pleaded with tears in her eyes as she reached in my direction., "All I need is a little help."

"Don't do it, Julie," Bill said as I reached for my wallet to see what I had to give.

In an ironic twist of fate, Bill implored me to stop and I ignored his request as I removed the smallest denomination I had.

"God bless you," the woman said while taking the twenty dollar bill from my hand.

"What were you thinking?" Bill said incredulously after our uninvited passenger had fully extricated herself from the vehicle.

"I asked you not to open the window," I shot back. "Don’t put me in that position if you don't want me to help."

“Her car wasn’t broken down,” Bill fumed. “She’s probably going to use the money to buy drugs.”

“My job is to give when someone asks and circumstances allow,” I replied defensively, wishing I knew Matthew 5:42 well enough to quote it word for word. “What that person does with the money is between her and God.”

We continued to argue as a limousine driver pulled up alongside our vehicle and motioned for us to open a window. Bill did as the man instructed and we stopped fighting for long enough to hear what he had to say.

"You know you just helped an addict," the man explained with a grin. "She's on that corner every night looking for money to buy drugs."

"I tried to tell her," Bill said as he pointed in my direction.

The chauffer gave Bill an understanding smile before turning his attention back to the road.

“I told you not to give her any money,” Bill said as the driver sped off.

"I told you not to unroll the window," I replied with equal conviction.

"Can you guys please stop fighting?" my youngest asked from her seat behind mine.

The silence was deafening as Bill steered our van into the airport’s long-term parking lot. It was also defeating. The trip I had been looking forward to for more than a month, the one that would take us back to Nebraska after moving 506 miles to Illinois just ten weeks earlier, seemed over before it started. And I was mad. Mad at the panhandler for coming between me and my husband. Mad at Bill for unrolling the window. And mad at God for moving my family to a city where doing the right thing was considered wrong.

Pent up frustration is not a good thing. It waits like fire in search of oxygen—or travelers in line at an airport—ready to explode at any moment. For me, that moment occurred thirty minutes later as I placed my carry-on items on the conveyer belt and stepped through the metal detector to find that my bags had been singled out for inspection.

"I'm going to have to keep these," the security officer stated after removing lip balm, hand sanitizer, and Clinique lip gloss from my purse.

In my frazzled state, I had forgotten that most liquids and gels were banned from carry-on luggage a month earlier;[1] and in my anger, I sinned.

"That's brand new lip gloss," I exclaimed.

"You can't take it on the plane," the officer said again.

"It's too late to check it with my luggage. Isn't there anything you can do?"

The woman shook her head and waited for me to make the next move.

Had Billy Graham been standing in line behind me on his way to a crusade, my next move might have been different. Especially if he had tapped me on the shoulder and offered this advice from page 199 his book, The Journey: How to Live by Faith in an Uncertain World: "Whether we realize it or not, every time life turns against us we stand at a crossroads. Will we turn away from God, or will we turn toward Him? Will we refuse His help, or will we seek it? Will we depend on ourselves for the strength we need, or will we depend on Him? Which road will we take?"

I wish I could say that I took the high road. The one where I was “self-controlled and alert” like the apostle urged believers to be in 1 Peter 5:8. Instead, I found myself on a verbal detour that left me wondering if I would reach my destination at all.

"Just get it over with," I snapped irritably.

Wishing I had packed fewer items, I watched impatiently as the woman finished with my purse and moved on to the carry-on bag. Finally, when I could stand it no longer, I succumbed to the urge to say something—and immediately regretted my decision.

"Do you have to pull everything out?" I complained.

Like smoke on a fire alarm, those words set the woman off as she stopped searching the bag to glare at its owner.

"If you don't want me to go through your things, I won’t," she said indignantly.

"Can I get a manager over here?" she called with an attitude that sent mine cowering into a corner. "I've got an angry customer who doesn’t want me to look inside her bag."

"I am not angry," I explained, trying to diffuse the situation. "Please, I just want you to finish."

"You said you didn’t want me to touch your bag and I’m not going to," the woman declared while backing away from the conveyer belt.

"Excuse me!" she announced again. "This hostile customer needs a manager."

A few minutes earlier, I was concerned about my lip gloss being left behind. Now, it was I who was in danger of missing the flight as I glanced nervously at Bill and the girls, who had passed through security without incident.

How did things get so out of hand? I asked myself, finding it hard to believe that I had yet to board the plane and already there was turbulence.

Sometimes I think we can become so successful at trying not to sin, that we forget it’s still there. Then an unexpected event brings it raging to the surface and we realize that we will never be rid of the part of us we hate the most.

Billy Graham wrote about this very topic on page 41 of The Journey when he said: "Through self-discipline we might get rid of some of our sins, but our basic problem of sin remains untouched and untouchable, lurking just beneath the surface and ready to strike at any moment."

"Don't ever think sin is only a minor misdeed or an occasional outburst of wrongdoing," Graham warned at the bottom of the page. "Sin is far deeper than that. It is a spiritual disease that leaves us weak and powerless. Its hold over us is so strong that only God can overcome it."

God had a lot of overcoming to do as the manager appeared on the other side of the conveyor belt and asked, “Is there a problem here?”

“This customer doesn’t want me to go through her bag,” the security officer said indignantly.

"Please," I pleaded. "I just want to rejoin my family."

These words and the uncertainty I felt while saying them made me afraid, not just for myself, but for all people who defy authority and deny that the rules in place apply to them. People who, having gained control of their outward expression of sin, believe that they will enter heaven because of what they, and not Jesus, has done.

If Romans 3:23 assures us that "all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God," why do we spend so much time trying to prove otherwise? Wouldn't it be easier to agree with the apostle Paul when he said that "if you confess with your mouth, 'Jesus is Lord,' and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved"?[2]

Although circumstances can be deceiving, tricking us into believing that we can conquer what only Christ can, Billy Graham makes it clear that the "only sin God cannot forgive is the sin of refusing His forgiveness."[3]

Jesus doesn't make up the difference, he is the difference. Knowing that those who "are trying to be justified by law have been alienated from Christ"[4] makes me shudder; I know firsthand the fear they will face when they reach their final security checkpoint and find that they, too, are in danger of not reaching their destination.

It's a fear that I never wanted to experience again. The manager must have sensed this because, after studying my face for a few seconds, he excused the irate security officer and asked another to take her place.

Although I felt blessed to still be on the journey as I boarded the plane with my family, I couldn’t shake the feeling of despair brought on by the days’ events. The security officer didn't know me well enough to give me the benefit of the doubt. Having relocated just six weeks earlier, no one in our suburb did. I was a stranger in a strange land, wondering how long I would have to wait before someone would smile when they saw me walking toward them and accept me, faults and all.

The next few days were just what I needed to lift my spirits and let me know that friends appreciated me, not for how easy I was to get money out of, or for how easy-going I was at a security checkpoint, but simply for who I was.

It was during one of our get-togethers with friends that I told the story of what happened at the airport. As laughter spilled across the table, I felt loved, not in spite of my foibles, but because of them. This realization led me to ask a question that I had never considered before.

What if sin isn’t supposed to separate us at all? I debated. What if it is to serve, not as a divider, but as a reminder that we are on this journey together?

Galatians 6:2 confirms that we are to carry "each other's burdens, and in this way ... fulfill the law of Christ.” I definitely felt like a weight had been lifted as I returned to Illinois with a dose of friendship to tide me over until new ones developed, and the wisdom to know that those who rest on God's promises don't have to worry about breaking them because, no matter how difficult the journey, when we reach our final destination, someone will be waiting to welcome us home.

Quotes to Grow On

"Eternal life is a gift ... we can never be good enough to earn our way into heaven, because God's standard is perfection. ... Our only hope is Christ, who purchased our salvation at the cost of His own blood and now offers it to us as a free gift."

Billy Graham, The Journey, p. 61

“We aren’t traveling alone on this journey God has given; others are traveling it with us. But unlike a race or a marathon, we aren’t competing with each other or trying to get ahead of them and win. We are traveling together on this journey, sharing its joys and bearing each others burdens and heartaches."

Billy Graham, The Journey, p. 124

[1] See http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/08/10/us.security/ for article and http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2006/08/10/mcedwards.travel.troubles.cnn for video

[2] Romans 10:9

[3] Billy Graham, The Journey, p. 164

[4] Galatians 5:4b