All around the darkened room candles flicker. In the caverns of my soul my shame echoes. I know that as I stand before the One who knows all, I cannot hide. I cannot lie. I cannot explain away. I am guilty. Many times over. The outcome at my trial is “guilty beyond any reasonable doubt” and because of this, I am condemned to death.
The horror of this fate envelops me. As I sit in church on Good Friday, I become overwhelmed with this thought. Justice is required and death is my sentence. I am to be beaten, and tortured and hung on a cross. The church and the singers and those around me fade and I am filled with anguish. Terror stricken. The blood rushes to my head and my heart beats rapidly. I am a sinner condemned to death. My God! I am guilty and am condemned to eternity without my Maker. It is over.
The beating of my heart becomes quiet. I stand in awe.
The one who loves me most steps in and confesses for my sin. He takes my place. He is innocent. My God! He is innocent.
Yet, he has been found guilty in my place. As he stands in the garden of Gethsemane, He is in anguish and his sweat is like drop of blood falling to the ground. Taking my place is not easy. It cost. More than I will ever know.
I walk free because justice has been served.
As the music and voices around me quietly sing, the horror of the fate from which I am rescued brings my heart to its knees. There are no words so I offer wordless tears. I wish to use them to wash his feet. The one who loves me most, the one most innocent … suffered the most … in my place. He saved me from my horror. He saved me. I walk free, declared innocent.
The debt is paid.
I owe him everything. My very life.
Jesus paid it all.
All to Him I owe.
Sin had left a scarlet stain,
He washed it white as snow.