The Silence of Forgiveness

Deserted streets. Closed doors behind which families gather around a simple meal. The smoke from hundreds of cooking fires slowly lifts its hazy grasp. Jerusalem is virtually silent.

Silence is sometimes peaceful. At other times, though, silence is eerie and heavy. The silence in Jerusalem on the evening of Passover must have been an eerie, heavy silence. During the day Jerusalem bustled with activity. The walls of the city could barely contain all of the pilgrims who had come bringing their sacrifice to the temple. Each sacrifice bleated out its own music during that long and fateful day. Then, as hour after hour slowly crept by, the sounds of the sacrifices diminished. Family after family returned from the temple carrying their Passover meal which had been sacrificed on an altar.

As this scene unfolded in my mind, I couldn't help but think about the silence of forgiveness. I couldn't help but think about what it must have been like to witness the thousands of sacrifices which attested to the sinfulness of so many souls and the extravagant grace of the Almighty God to forgive. And I couldn't help but think about my own sinfulness and how trivially I treat God's grace and forgiveness. There is no bleating of sheep speaking out my sins. There is no long walk up the hill to present my sacrifice before God. Rarely is there any point in my life where I am confronted with the reality of my sins.

But tonight I hear the silence. And the silence is deafening in my ears as I think of the Lamb. The Lamb I think of in this thick silence is not a cute and cuddly pet that must be given at too young an age, but the all-powerful Son of God who willingly walked that road and laid down his life for sinners.

Too often I fail to think about the price for my sins. I ignore the reality of Paul's words that the wages of sin is death. I trivialize sin and think that it is no big deal for God to forgive me yet again. I ignore the fact that the sin in my life actually destroys the life that Christ came to give me. And so tonight I am reminded by the silence of forgiveness.

Life as I know it came at the cost of God's Son.

Oops!

For all of you with cell phones - put them down while you drive. Don't text. Don't play your little games. And above all, don't take pictures of semi-trucks stuck up to the axle in sand on a construction on-ramp for a new bridge. (I've already done that, just ask me and you can borrow my picture.) In my defense, traffic had backed up and I wasn't moving yet...and it was a great opportunity. How often do you see a stuck truck?...Especially when there's no mud!

Now that the legal "don't try this at home" stuff is in print, I want you to picture yourself as the driver of this truck. For him, (gender specific because all the people on the work site were men) this picture is the epitome of a bad day. Its the kind of day where you say out loud to anyone listening, "I hate my job, I hate my co-workers, I hate my life." Did you notice the group of men standing further up the on-ramp? They are all standing and looking at the truck. This guy's mistake is known by everyone!

I've been there. You have probably been there, too. Paralyzed by the embarrassment, the fear, the shame. Your sin becomes public knowledge and you become the whispers in the hallway. Every giggle is instigated by your presence. The whole world laughs at your expense.

Here's the good news... that truck isn't stuck in the sand anymore. I know that for a fact. The bridge they were building on the day that truck got stuck is completed. I have driven over that bridge several times in the past few months. That bridge is sturdy and will stand for a long time.

So you messed up... big deal. The "whole world" laughed at you... who cares. Don't let that sin, that embarrassment, that shame, that fear paralyze you. Don't stop living the life you were called to live because of one little mistake. Look at it this way - at least no one took a picture of your mistake and posted a blog about it for anyone to see... :^)

Life as I know it is lived best when we don't let our mistakes stop us from doing what we're supposed to do.