I wonder if you, like me, have ever stood in the doorway of the tabernacle* and felt like you were totally out of place there…
– – – –
I stand on the threshold. This is God’s home. And it’s a place that feels as though it has been at times more familiar to me than it is at this moment.
His eyes hold only love.
My head is bowed though, because my mind cradles memories fresh of petty wanderings I’d like to forget.
“Thank You, Sir.
But— [with trembling, and wonder, and a bit of incredulity, and still a bowed head]
Does Your Lordship know what it feels like to be a betrayer and a murderer?”
I know. The inane questions I ask sometimes.
He just looks at me, lets me stand there a minute. And His face is kind, and grave, and silent. But suddenly His Spirit leads me back to truth 2,000 years old. I hear, I remember. I look up at His face.
“Yes, actually… I died carrying the sins of Judas too.”
Oh. That’s right. (and so horribly wrong.)
You Who knew no sin, accepted the sin of the betrayer.
And it killed You, so I could live.
And this is why you can welcome me home.
Let me never hesitate.
*metaphorically speaking, you understand.