There is no Jew or Greek, slave or free, male and female; since you are all one in Christ Jesus. And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, heirs according to the promise. —Galatians 3:28–29
One day, early in my marriage to Bobbie, we were riding home from work when I spotted a traveling carnival all set up in the parking lot of a shopping mall. I could see the huge Ferris wheel standing tall amid the other attractions. “Hey,” I said in a tone that let my wife know a brilliant idea was on its way. “Let’s go play at that carnival over there.”
Although she was tired from a full day’s work as a dental assistant, I could tell she liked the idea. “Sure, let’s do it,” she responded.
I bought five dollars’ worth of tickets and noticed a plywood cutout of a child right next to the window. “You must be taller than me to enjoy any of the rides” was plainly printed. No problem here, I thought. At six-two and five-four, we certainly qualify.
Then we were off for some fun. We walked to the first ride, the Spinning Teacup. “Oh boy!” Bobbie exclaimed, her voice reminiscent of a kid at her birthday party. “Ugh,” I groaned. Spinning makes me nauseated. “OK,” Bobbie’s voice trailed off, making no attempt to hide her disappointment.
Right across the way was the Roller Demon, a high-speed roller coaster. “Great,” I blurted out, “Let’s do the Demon.” “Yuk,” Bobbie responded. “I hate fast rides.” We kept walking. We paused a moment at one of the test-your-skill booths. “Hooray!” my wife shouted. “Let’s see if you can win a teddy bear for me.” “You must be kidding,” I sneered. “Those things are so rigged, I wouldn’t waste my time.” She was crestfallen.
“Then let’s go do the Ferris wheel,” Bobbie pleaded. My heart sank. “Do you have any idea how acrophobic I am?” I confessed. “Heights freak me out. I’d rather die than get on that thing.” We continued to unsuccessfully trudge through the walkways, unable to find a ride we both would enjoy. In a few minutes we gave up, returning to our car. On the way out, we gave our tickets to a kid standing in front of the Tilt-A-Whirl. Height and spinning. I couldn’t even look at it.
Until that afternoon, we had no idea how incompatible we were. We rode in silence back to our apartment. The plywood cutout at the ticket window should have said something about spousal incompatibility, I silently grumbled.
For centuries, God’s chosen people wandered through life, longing for the Messiah. Unsuccessfully living under the law, they hoped for a Redeemer. “When the time came to completion, God sent his Son,” the apostle Paul wrote (4:4). These Jews were heirs, but they were like children, not tall enough to enjoy the rides, so incompatible with their Creator that they were unable to delight in His grace.
So God sent Jesus, who welcomed us as His children, making us tall enough to ride. Then He sent His Spirit, binding us to our brothers and sisters, conquering the agony of irreconcilable differences and discord.
You’re standing today at life’s ticket window, waiting for your tickets to ride. The plywood sign standing right there is in the shape of a cross. “You must be saved in order to enjoy any of these rides,” it clearly reads. “And you need God’s grace to love those you’re traveling with.”
Take Jesus up on His offer to you. Don’t miss the joy. Don’t miss the friendship. Enjoy the ride.