Wincing at mistakes
So I've made mistakes before. The kind of mistakes that make me wince when the memories creep up on me in the stillness before sleep late at night. Sometimes, it seems, the thought of forgiveness and redemption can drown out the self-reproach and allow me to drift off into a slumber. Other times the wince seems to spread down from my face to my heart as feelings of guilt, iniquity and shame overwhelm me to the point of insomnia.
We weren't made to live like this; sluggishly carrying an eternal feeling of guilt around, like a heavy suitcase without wheels. We also weren't made to leave that suitcase standing at the side of the road like a lonely commuter who just missed the bus. It's part of our past, therefor it's part of us.
Sometimes we don't realise we have this thing we carry around, like an awkward backpack with the straps broken, lost in the woods. Often we don't even grasp that we've been carrying around our mistakes and shortcomings to the point where we don't even see them anymore, almost like not seeing the forest for the trees. At times we're so used to carrying the cumbersome load that we're wary of letting go in case something worse takes its place.
That's the first reason why we need Jesus. It is in the pureness and perfection of Christ that our iniquity and guilt, our mistakes and flaws come to light. It is when we're confronted by something bigger than our minds can understand that we realise we need help; we need a Saviour. That something is God's unimaginable mercy. Mercy says we're loved, even if we don't love in return. It is the undeserved, unwarranted, unjustifiable love that convinces me that I'm running short on the perfection scale; that I need help with my broken backpack.
That is not the end of the story, though. Jesus doesn't show us mercy and unconditional love to make us feel guilty and unworthy for the rest of our lives. Jesus shows us our flaws and unworthiness, our broken backpack with the heavy load of guilt, and then also gives us a way out. I like the way John Newton put it: "Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved." Jesus, in His loving, merciful perfection, jumps in, puts the backpack of guilt, shame and ineligibility on His shoulders and invites us to follow Him to the welcoming, warm glow of a log fire in a stone house on the edge of the woods; out of the dark woods, into the light.
Even though Christ lived, died and rose again over 2000 years ago, the invite still stands today. Everyone is welcome. All we have to do is accept the invitation and follow Him to eternal life.
Why would you say no to this?
We weren't made to live like this; sluggishly carrying an eternal feeling of guilt around, like a heavy suitcase without wheels. We also weren't made to leave that suitcase standing at the side of the road like a lonely commuter who just missed the bus. It's part of our past, therefor it's part of us.
Sometimes we don't realise we have this thing we carry around, like an awkward backpack with the straps broken, lost in the woods. Often we don't even grasp that we've been carrying around our mistakes and shortcomings to the point where we don't even see them anymore, almost like not seeing the forest for the trees. At times we're so used to carrying the cumbersome load that we're wary of letting go in case something worse takes its place.
That's the first reason why we need Jesus. It is in the pureness and perfection of Christ that our iniquity and guilt, our mistakes and flaws come to light. It is when we're confronted by something bigger than our minds can understand that we realise we need help; we need a Saviour. That something is God's unimaginable mercy. Mercy says we're loved, even if we don't love in return. It is the undeserved, unwarranted, unjustifiable love that convinces me that I'm running short on the perfection scale; that I need help with my broken backpack.
That is not the end of the story, though. Jesus doesn't show us mercy and unconditional love to make us feel guilty and unworthy for the rest of our lives. Jesus shows us our flaws and unworthiness, our broken backpack with the heavy load of guilt, and then also gives us a way out. I like the way John Newton put it: "Twas grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved." Jesus, in His loving, merciful perfection, jumps in, puts the backpack of guilt, shame and ineligibility on His shoulders and invites us to follow Him to the welcoming, warm glow of a log fire in a stone house on the edge of the woods; out of the dark woods, into the light.
Even though Christ lived, died and rose again over 2000 years ago, the invite still stands today. Everyone is welcome. All we have to do is accept the invitation and follow Him to eternal life.
Why would you say no to this?
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