Before the throne of God I stand
Alone, endless white surrounds me. I gaze upon the throne with trepidation and resolve. I have been made righteous… and I will continue in this righteousness.
As I gaze upon the Lord, suddenly to my right, there is my sin. The black rough edged matter is a small and nearly insignificant pile. I don't even look at it. To look at it is to acknowledge its existence, and to recognize it as my own is to give it power. My gaze remains fixed upon the Lord. He knows my sin. He knows I fight against it. As I look to the Lord, with my eyes I say, You are my fortress. I take courage in you.
My sin grows. Suddenly the pile that was small and seemingly insignificant rapidly multiplies to be a steadily growing mound that if I were to turn my gaze to the side, it would crowd my vision. But I refuse to break my gaze away from the Lord. I resolve to be strong and stand firm before the Lord. He knows I struggle against it. He knows I choose to look on Him instead of my sin. But the mass of rough edged rock like blackness is now pushing by me. The once small and manageable pile at my feet is now running past me in an endless river that is rising, stark and harshly contrasting the pure white surroundings. All the while I gaze straight at the throne and nowhere else. Obviously sinking in my own wrong, I determine that by my resolve I shall stand. Struggle to maintain my balance and stay upright before God.
The anxiety I feel is rising. The waist deep teeming mass of dark and sharp edged ugliness is becoming an endless sea that threatens to swallow me. And I start to feel anger- anger at my own weakness, and foolishness. I can feel my footing start to slip. I am neck deep in my own sin that I rail against. I am being battered by the blackness, against my will. How can I ever stand? How can I possibly remain before the Lord? Any moment my footing will be knocked out from under me and I will vanish from before the throne, swept into the darkness which I have borne. It's impossible. And as I stretch out my arm toward the throne to reach toward the Lord as if to grab a hold, I am overtaken by the raging waves of iniquity and disappear from the throne, powerless to escape the raging sea. I am hopeless; lost forever from the presence of the throne. I cannot escape the ocean that is carrying me away, nor can I find footing to fight the endless current of the endless expanse of my own sin.
And I tried. I really did. For as long as I could I stood where I knew I should be. I stood with all my strength, willpower and desire to be right with God- to remain righteous-to be worthy of the grace I have been given. It was all in vain. I was powerless against my own wrong. How could I, how could anyone hope to stand before the throne? We are our own saboteurs, despite our best efforts we cannot remain in righteous standing before the Lord.
My despair is causing me to sink into the waves of death that have swept me away. On the horizon there is one immovable object. As I am swept closer the figure comes more into focus. There ahead of me standing firm and immovable is a cross. A man, who is weeping in anguish, is nailed to that cross. As my sin sweeps past and around this man on the cross the rough and sharp edges of my terrible deeds rip and tear away his flesh. The stone like black ugliness is battering him, crushing his bones and bruising his face. I do not want to look. I can't bear to see the things that I have done to this man. But the immovable cross is directly ahead of me. I see that along with my sin, I am being dragged with the full force of the flood toward the cross. I will be bashed against it with the blow of a battering ram and I know I will be broken by the force. Worse yet, I know that the force of my impact on this man will be the final strike that breaks Him.
Suddenly in one blinding crash, I am swept into the cross, against Jesus the Lamb of God. I close my eyes against the searing pain. As I weep I hear His sobs.
Then, I feel his arms wrap around me. He turns and holds me to him with surprising strength, and as he does the blood pouring from his battered body is smeared all over me. I am covered in it. I no more feel the rushing river of sin, because he is taking the impact of it. My ears are filled with the sound of his voice, as he prays over me. He prays over me. I am the one whose sin has broken his body. I am powerless and undeserving having done nothing righteous. My best efforts have come to nothing. Yet He holds me still.
I open my eyes, and gone is the endless ocean of my sin. I am standing whole and healed of all brokenness again before the throne of God. And holding me firm, steadying my hand, holding me still is Jesus. Yeshua the blameless one who still carries the wounds that my sin has left. He remains broken still so I can be whole.
My heart is full of so many things, and all I can do is gaze on my Savior. Cling to Him who has made me whole.
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