I did something really dumb yesterday that cost me thirty bucks. Granted, thirty bucks isn’t going to bankrupt me. It just ticks me off.
I bought a bottle of vitamins at Sam’s Club, along with a a few cases of this and that. The girl at the checkout put that bottle of vitamins in the top of the shopping cart (the part designed for a child to ride in). When I unloaded the cart into the back of the car, I never picked up the vitamins. I guess they were the right color to blend into the cart, because I even pushed the cart over to the cart corral and never noticed the expensive little bottle hiding just inches from my hands. I never even gave it a thought until last night a little before midnight when I went to put them away.
I went back to Sam’s after church today to pick up some cheese that I forgot to buy yesterday, and I asked at the Member Services counter to see if anyone had found my $30 bottle of vitamins. They keep a logbook of items left behind, but my vitamins weren’t there. Left with no other option, I did what I had to do. I accepted responsibility for my dumb mistake and bought another $30 bottle of vitamins—and personally escorted them to their destination.
Oddly enough, my experience today made me think about Casey Anthony. Everyone and their cat has been talking about the surprise verdict in the Casey Anthony trial this week, and the rumble of dissatisfaction has re-surged today with her release from prison early this morning. The vast majority of vocal Americans believe Casey got away with murder and haven’t hesitated to let their feelings be known. There have been credible death threats, ugly crowds, and lawyers making money helping Casey hide.
I haven’t made a single statement on the issue since the verdict came out, in part because my opinion is a definite minority and I don’t want to get beaten up. I’ve decided to break my silence.
There are exactly twelve people who are qualified to decide whether the verdict was correct. Period. I wasn’t in the jury box. I didn’t get to see all the evidence presented. I didn’t get to debate that evidence behind closed doors with eleven other jurors. I am, therefore, not qualified to pronounce Casey Anthony guilty. I sincerely believe that there were jurors who wanted to find Casey guilty, but the prosecution failed to prove her guilty beyond a reasonable doubt in the eyes of the only twelve people whose opinions count.
It should be noted, however, that the jury didn’t pronounce Casey innocent in the death of her daughter. They said the prosecution didn’t prove her guilty. I know of only one person who knows whether or not Casey is truly innocent, and that’s Casey. Even if she is truly innocent, the jury didn’t set her free. Today, Casey’s in hiding. She may never be truly free again.
My vitamin debacle brought Casey Anthony’s case to mind because I had to accept responsibility for my mistake. I had to accept the consequences of my mistake. I had to pay the price of the replacement. If Casey is guilty, she’s not “getting away” with anything. She knows the truth, and has to live with that knowledge. Eventually she will answer to her creator. Either she will face eternal judgment or Jesus will take her sin and set her truly free, just like he did for me.
Until that day comes, instead of throwing rhetorical (or physical) rocks at Casey Anthony, we ought to pray for her and her family and love her the way God loves us—unconditionally.