Day 55: My Dad Rules

All the nations you have made will come and worship before you, Lord; they will bring glory to your name. For you are great and do marvelous deeds; you alone are God. Teach me your way, Lord, that I may rely on your faithfulness; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. Psalm 86:9–11 niv

One of my favorite movies of all times is To Kill a Mockingbird (based on Harper Lee’s classic novel of the same name, which was published in 1960). The storyline is based on a tough-on-the-outside-tender-on-the-inside attorney by the name of Atticus Finch (played by Gregory Peck). Atticus is basically limping gruffly through life—with his two young children skipping warily behind him—in the aftermath of his wife’s untimely death. But then he makes a life-changing choice that ultimately transforms his fractured little family. He decides to become the defense attorney for an innocent black man named Tom, who’s been framed for raping a white girl in their small, Southern, segregated town.

My favorite scene in the film takes place soon after Tom is convicted, even though everyone in the courtroom knows he’s not guilty—especially after the impeccable, impassioned defense Atticus has presented. Nonetheless, the all-white jury blindly chooses tradition over truth and unfairly hands down a guilty verdict. Bigoted hooligans whoop with glee when the verdict is read, while all the black people overlooking from the balcony (because the main floor of the courthouse was for “whites only”) react in stunned silence. The bottom floor of the courtroom quickly empties as boisterous white men file out, slapping each other on the back in congratulations.

Throughout all the downstairs commotion, those in the balcony remained seated, shocked, and deeply disappointed that Tom—who’d by now become a symbol for anyone with brown skin in their community—had been unfairly accused and convicted simply because of his race. Then the camera pans to Atticus. To the only white man who’d behaved honorably that day by insisting that all people deserved to be treated with fairness and dignity regardless of their color or creed. It’s obvious by the sag of his shoulders that he’s brokenhearted over the verdict, too. He methodically gathers his papers from the defendant’s table, puts them into his briefcase, then turns to walk out of the courtroom. And that’s when people in the balcony began standing up. First one by one, then dozens of them.

At which point, a kindly old pastor taps Atticus’s precocious seven-year-old daughter, Jean Louise (whose nickname is “Scout”) on the shoulder. Scout had chosen to sit up in the balcony throughout the trial and in that particular moment is plopped on the floor with her tomboyish legs dangling through the balusters. The pastor instructs her fondly but firmly, “Miss Jean Louis, stand up. Your father’s passing.” She glances up questionably but once she realizes the entire balcony is standing out of respect for her father, her countenance transforms from that of a wary little girl to one whose heart has begun to beat for her daddy. She scrambles quickly to her feet and stretches as tall as she can so as to show her esteem for her father too.

I think I’ve cried every time I’ve watched that scene of Scout standing up, and something deep in my heart stirs. Because I want to be found standing wide-eyed with reverence for my Father, too. And not because He merely tries to achieve vindication for those He loves, but because ultimately He always achieves it!

• What’s more natural for you: feeling awed because of the hugeness and holiness of God or feeling safe because of the compassion of God?
• How do you think reverence for God and intimacy with God best coexist?
• What typically holds you back from “standing wide-eyed with reverence” for your heavenly Father?