There is a crack in my parents' front door. The door is not in disrepair, and to most observers, there is no visible sign that the door's integrity is compromised. At night the severity and even the presence of the crack are impossible to determine. But when the sun shines, the light that presses through the crack bears an undeniable testimony.

I recently spent a few days at my parents' home. It was not a visit of pleasure but one of heartache. Close family friends had lost a son and a grandson, and I returned home to be with this family. My heart was broken. The heaviness of grief was felt with every breath. The fatigue of sadness rested on my shoulders like cumbersome over-stuffed luggage. Everything within me wanted to do something to make it better, assuage my friends' pain, and heal the brokenness. But there was nothing that could be done. All I could do was remember the wisdom of Solomon that there is an appointed time for everything, and this was a time to weep and mourn. And so, we did.

It is so common among the church culture that I grew up in and now pastor that few, if any, notice it. An overly harsh judgment would declare this behavior as pseudo-humility, even willfully fake humility. A more gracious judgment would recognize a need for a better and deeper understanding of what salvation does to sin and our lives. I am talking about how many Christians speak with hopeless defeat about their struggle with sin and obedience to God’s word. There is even an overly used, often misunderstood, and theologically deficient phrase that embodies this issue – “I am just a sinner saved by grace.”

Sometimes “just a sinner saved by grace” is employed to excuse or rationalize the behavior of an unrepentant sinner. However, more often, it is spoken by one who truly desires to live righteously before the Lord but feels a need to show humility rather than confidence. Sometimes this same sentiment shows up more subtly. A teacher teaching on an issue of sin will preference their comments with “I fail at this all the time.” A preacher proclaiming from a text that calls the saints to a specific response may temper his words with “we all fall short of this.” In all these things, there is a prominent attitude of defeat. There is an assumption that failure, disobedience, and inadequacy are the norm. Such an attitude recognizes that we should feel bad about not perfectly obeying the commands and expectations of scripture but offers no hope that anything, but a perpetual state of disappointment, can be known.

They were newlyweds returning from their honeymoon. As the 21-year-old Granger Kent and his new bride traveled toward home, surely their thoughts were on their future and the excitement of establishing a home and building a family. Seated not far from the newlyweds were two men, both engaged, and traveling to meet their brides and celebrate their weddings. 154 years ago, these and many more were gathered on a train traveling from Cleveland to Buffalo, New York.

The New York Express departed Cleveland in the early hours of December 18, 1867. As it made its way toward its destination it struggled to keep up with the appointed schedule, and by the time it reached Angola, NY, it was running nearly three hours late. The train engineers had no hope of arriving on time, but they were doing all they could to minimize the severity of their tardiness.

Other than the frustration of anticipated schedules being missed the trip was mundane. These were the days when passenger trains were the primary way of travel. It is likely that every passenger on the train that day had taken many similar trips and gave little thought to the significance of this trip. As they passed through Angola, they knew they were getting close to their destination and likely began to turn their thoughts to what they would do when they arrived. Angola was not a planned stop, so the train passed by the little wooded depot at a steady speed. The telegraph operator in the station noted her passing and surely waved at the engineers as they passed.