I have spent more hours at the DMV recently than I care to count. Days, really. Waiting. Watching. Hoping to be seen. The first time, I arrived with everything I thought I needed, only to be told I was missing a necessary form. I was sent away three other times due to staggeringly long lines and even longer wait times. Today, I was finally handed what I went for.
There is something humbling about a place where no one gets to skip the line. No amount of money, charm, title, or time saves you from the wait. We were all there—young and old, dressed for work or barely awake, frustrated or patient, silent or loud—holding our phones and documents like passports to another chance.
The DMV, the great leveler, doesn’t ask who you are in the world. Neither privilege nor bank balance matter. The only considerations are: if you came prepared, if you are willing to wait, and if you will follow through with what they require.
In that crowded room, I made some sweet friends, but, among that great cross section of humanity, I couldn’t help but think of the gospel and its parallels to what I was witnessing.
Because it, too, is for everyone. Regardless of status, background, appearance, or past mistakes, all are received. No one is turned away because they’re too broken, too complicated, too far gone. And no one is ushered to the front because they’ve “earned” it. At the foot of the cross, the ground is level.
The gospel does not bend to ego, and it will not be rushed. It offers a gift that cannot be earned, only received. And how we respond—just like in that waiting room—dictates everything that follows.
Some arrive angry, demanding immediate answers. Some show up burdened but quiet, determined to do whatever it takes. Others walk away when it’s harder than they expected or when the process doesn’t unfold as they planned.
And still, the invitation remains: “Come.”
“Come, weary, wounded one, worn out with striving and longing for more. Come, let Me patch you up and make you whole. Come, exchange your ruins for redemption, your hurts for healing, and your weariness for wonder.”
“Come, taste and see for yourself what many have come to know—that the ache will be filled, the search will end, and at last, you will find what once seemed so elusive in your wandering. Peace, love, and forgiveness are your birthright. Come, help yourself to all those and more.”
The difference, of course, is that the DMV offers a transaction. The gospel offers transformation. One gives you a license to drive. The other, a path to real life that is worthy of the Name.
Both remind us that our shared humanity is undeniable—but what matters in the end isn’t what we brought with us, but whether we were willing to wait, to listen, to trust, and, ultimately, to say “yes.”
“And the Spirit and the bride say, Come. And let him that heareth say, Come. And let him that is athirst come. And whosoever will, let him take the water of life freely.”
~ 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝟐𝟐:𝟏𝟕