easter dress

I have learned a few things during my two years in Nashville: Vegetables are not considered “done” until they are cooked to the consistency of baby food. The correct pronunciation of that major street downtown is Dee-MON-bree-un. Some people actually enjoy NASCAR. And Easter Sunday calls for new clothes and a big hat.

I’ve also learned about Tennessee’s rather unusual attempt to cut down on DUIs—these “I am a drunk driver” vests. Three years ago we became one of the few states to vote a “shame law” on the books requiring first offenders to clean up litter from busy roadways while announcing their crime. I saw several while driving around this past week.

There aren’t many things I despise more than drunk driving—it’s stupid, unnecessary, and potentially deadly. But when I noticed these people along the road, the punishment bothered me. For one thing, I’m not sure embarrassing offenders out of the behavior will be that effective. Instead, I agree with recent task forces which recommend simultaneously stricter and more solution-oriented penalties like revoking licenses or lowering the blood alcohol count which triggers a jail stay.

But the law also makes me uneasy for another reason: if we’re passing out orange vests for wrong-doing, I deserve a closet-full. Drunk driving is dumb and destructive, but so are many of my own choices. Laziness, jealousy, bitterness, anger—I could have vests for all of those. My Easter outfit could have been covered with signs reading “I am a grudge-holder” or “I am impatient” or “I have little faith.”

However, yesterday we celebrated God’s great victory over the original shame law.  To paraphrase Galatians 3, there is neither Jew nor Greek, male nor female, drunkard nor sluggard, adulterer nor gossip. There isn’t even Yankee or Southerner.  Because of Jesus, all who repent and believe are clothed with Christ, on Easter Sunday and on every other day—hats optional.