Ten Degrees

Ten Degrees

Sometime in 2008, a passenger boarded a Lufthansa jet traveling from Mumbai to Dallas. He chose the airline—and its first-class section—because he was told its seats would lie flat, and he planned to sleep through at least part of the twenty-hour journey.

He soon discovered he had been duped. The seat he purchased did not lie completely flat. Instead of the expected 180 degrees, he was only able to recline 170 degrees, causing him considerable distress—so much that he sued the airline for damages, claiming “agony and mental anguish.” (He also noted that his first-class seat reclined only slightly more than those in economy—a fact that no doubt contributed to his mental anguish.)

Seven years later, the passenger’s claim was settled in his favor, although he was only reimbursed for the cost of his flight, and the airline was required to deposit a modest fine into a consumer redress account.

Seriously? Agony and mental anguish over ten lousy degrees? Seven years of legal wrangling for $1,000? At what point during those seven years did the passenger’s anger finally subside? I secretly prided myself on not being the kind of person who gets her knickers in a serious knot over nothing.

At least until I asked myself, So, Leigh—what’s your ten degrees?

What is the thing you cannot let go of, even though the offense is a distant memory, and in hindsight, the anguish was a mere blip on the radar? What still makes you seethe, thinking you were tricked or taken advantage of? What “lie-flat” promises were made to you that you believe were malicious or fraudulent? And—have you really forgiven and forgotten?

I scoffed at this traveler’s ridiculous seven-year legal snit for all of five minutes. That’s how long it took to realize my own, better-hidden sense of entitlement and outrage at being cheated out of ten degrees of something. Anything. Or having something I think I deserved withheld.

I’m all about the justice. Until I need some mercy.

Thankfully, Jesus has justly settled the account of my offenses against God and lavished upon me the mercy I need but have not earned. He’s all about justice and mercy, too. And not just for ten degrees of my fatal “gone wrongness.” For all of it. Always.

While we were still helpless, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly.

Romans 5:6, NASB