I'm sitting at the end of a long brown wooden table. Tears are streaming down my face. I cannot see far ahead of me, all I can see are my sins and my past. The room is dark, cold, stone-walled. My clothes are tattered, dirty, ripped to shreds. Dirt is on my face. I look down at my hands, they are covered in dried mud. Broken heart. Fear in eyes. Trembling body.
But then I hear the whisper of a man. I look up, strain to see past my tears, and sitting on the other end of the long brown wooden table is a King. Why am I sitting at a table with a King? I blink, expecting the image of the King to disappear, just a fragment of my imagination.
No. Here he is. Sitting there. Love in his eyes. Smile on his lips.
The smile makes me feel uncomfortable as I know I'm not worthy to receive a smile from the King. He beckons to me, waving his hand, to show me what is sitting in the middle of the long brown wooden table.
He nods his head in answer to my thoughts. The crown was for me? Here I am, a broken girl in the clothes of unworthiness and He tells me that the crown is for me. A small laughter parts from his lips. It wasn't a mocking laughter, more of a laughter of comfort. Willingness. Love.
Hesitantly I lean forward and pick up the crown in my hands. I slowly, carefully, turn the crown in my hands and study it. It's beauty catches my heart doing a dance. I've never seen such beauty before. I want to put it on my head, I want to walk in it's beauty with the King. With wonder and awe I begin to draw the crown to my head.
"What are you doing!?" The accuser stands by my side. He is draped in blackness. His eyes pierce me and causes hurt to arise in my heart. Gasping, I put the crown back on the table. The King never loses eye contact with me, and beckons me to pick the crown up again. It is for me.
"You aren't good enough! You don't deserve it! Look at what you have done!" His taunting whisper sounds like a scream to my ears.
Before my eyes my life is mapped out. The time I sat as a child and cried as I was pushed into a world of brokeness. The time when I bullied the christian girl reaching out to me with the love of Jesus. When I accepted that money and allowed a lie to enter my mind. The time when I had hate in my heart.
I. Was. Not. Good. Enough. For. The. Crown.
As I let go of the hope that I could wear the crown, I sensed a shift in the room. The King had arose. It felt as if time had stopped.
And He spoke.
"The Lord REBUKE YOU, SATAN! The Lord who has CHOSEN Louise REBUKE YOU!" (Zechariah 3:2)
I fell on my knees in wonder and awe. I was so taken aback by His Authority that I did not even see as my accusser fled in fear, panic, and anguish.
The King walks over to me, and offer His Hand to help me up. Blinking back tears I looked at His Hand ready to grasp it, and I notice that they were scarred. Scarred for me? Scarred for my sins. As He helps me to my feet I notice that my torn clothes were replaced with beautiful garments. The dirt on my face was removed. My muddy hands now portrayed clean hands. The room was no longer dark and cold, but was draped in majesty. Gold. Riches. Beauty.
With love in His eyes He places the crown on my head.
"You are worthy" He whispers. "I was wounded for your transgressions, bruised for your inquities. You are worthy. I made you worthy."
Labels: Being with Jesus