Fireworks

The border guard took only two minutes to search, and he turned to me and said, “Sir, I’d like you to come with me.” He even threatened me, right in front of all the students – threatened to throw me in jail and impound the bus. I felt humiliated. But I also felt betrayed.

We took our youth group down to Rocky Point, on the northern tip of the Baja California. From Phoenix it was about a four hour trip that provided a couple fun days of camping and romping on the beach. One of the big attractions in going to Mexico was buying cheap fireworks. Firecrackers, bottle rockets, M-80s – big stuff, loud stuff, the kaboom kind of fireworks. Even though I warned them clearly and sternly that they could not take any of the fireworks back across the border, I knew the desire to try and sneak them in anyways. I was younger once upon a time – been there, done that, got the t-shirt. And in the old days you could get away with smuggling them out of Mexico. The American border guards didn’t really check all that thoroughly.

But things were different when I started making the annual treks as a youth pastor. The search was becoming more serious. I was having to be more careful. So I came up with a great idea. The last night of our trip I instigated an all out fireworks war. We divided into two teams. We assigned points for all sorts of things – rockets over the back defensive lines, end around attacks, big points for a rocket hitting the enemy cache and setting off a major explosion. I don’t think anyone ever did it, but it was fun trying. Mainly, it was a way to blow off all that they had left before heading home the next morning.

My mistake was to be too trusting, too naïve, and not check for fireworks myself before heading for the border. I assumed that the students would all heed my warning and obey my instructions. But that was not the case. As the border guard boarded the bus to inspect he was congenial. But I could tell quickly that he was all business, too. He went to the back of the bus and began to check through some of the luggage. It wasn’t two minutes into the inspection that he pulled out some fireworks. That’s all he needed to make his point. He came to the front of the bus and spoke clearly and loudly, so everyone could hear it. He threatened to impound the bus, detain me, and maybe throw me in jail. I was embarrassed. We went inside and he proceeded to question me. I felt so betrayed by my students that I don’t even remember what he asked or what he said. Looking back, after the fact, I realized that he was making a statement to the students as well as to me. They got all their fireworks and turned them over when we returned to the bus. He didn’t even have to inspect. And they learned from someone much more authoritative than me that rules were rules, and they were not to be broken.

I often look back at that experience and marvel at the feeling of betrayal. And I wonder what God must feel like when I so often ignore his advice and wisdom, and betray his authority. But I also remember the grace that the border guard showed to me and the students once there was a sense of repentance. It’s a good thing he didn’t just go by the law, and throw the book at us with all its punishment and consequences. It would have turned one fun trip into a hell, never to be forgotten.

“The law was added so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, so that, just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” (Romans 5:20-21)