The Verdict
The evidence is overwhelming. The verdict seems clear even before I stand trial. I am guilty. If the charges were to be read out, I’d be at court forever. We’d need a series of books detailing the crimes and the victims of the crimes — chronologically ordered. The atrocities committed would reflect horror and outrage to anyone reading it.
This calls for justice — You do the crime, serve the time. Or in this case, the death sentence.
I spend my nights in my cell. I’ve become all too accustomed to it. The walls feel right, the size seems fine, the bars seem to serve their purpose. I can’t be let out. Confined, without rights, held by guards telling me I’m good for nothing. I can’t deny anything they’re saying. They seem right. I am all those things they claim me to be.
Who can imagine the atrocities I would commit if I were let out. Freedom is all but a fantasy. A utopia in this dystopia I have created for myself. This prison cell feels like home. I’ve spent all my life in this cell. This is all I know. I don’t want to leave. This mindless routine I follow, gives me comfort. It feels right. The fact is, I deserve this, don’t I?
I serve a sentence followed by trial, the outcome of which will be my impending death. The day of reckoning feels inevitable. The event of death doesn’t scare me. It is what I hear will happen after death to people like me that makes me tremble and shudder. Burning sulphur, they say. Eternal agony. A dark desolate place void of anything good but suffering. What hope is there for me? I just do my time and pray that no one else is imprisoned like I am. I deserve this.
The day of trial is coming. I embrace my fate. The verdict on my execution will soon be announced. I can’t afford an advocate so the state will have to provide me with one. The plaintiff, I hear, is ruthless, seeking absolute justice. I stand no chance, or so I thought until I met my advocate.
I have met none like him. So loving, caring, passionate, gentle and just. All he asked of me was to trust him. He told me he knew my story. He knew all of it. But he said he’d get me out of here, with all charges dropped against me. It sounded too good to be true. I found it amusing. All the evidence was stacked against me.
I let him in onto my problems and failures. They stack so high, I have built a huge prison out of them. I can’t break out but I desperately want out. I’m sick and tired of living this lie. Is there any hope beyond these walls? Will I ever be able to walk out and never look back?
He patiently listens and after all is said, gently whispers, “Will you trust me?” I ask him what his strategy is? How will he turn the verdict in my favor? He smiles and says, “The work is done and the sentence has been served. You can walk out free if you trust in me.”
He cracks me up. I tell him he’s funny because it sounds so far fetched but there is a part of me hoping this is true. He takes my shackles and removes them saying,” You are free to go if you believe.” I choke up. Is this a dream? Fanciful thinking before I’m finally put away? I pinch myself to make sure this isn’t a dream.
He stands up and walks up to the door. Opening it, he ushers me out. I hear the Judge calling out my name as I stand before him. I think to myself, “This is it, there goes my life.” To my utter surprise he shouts out, “Not guilty!” and makes a note of it in his record.
I’m left there aghast, confused and full of joy. Tears flow down my cheeks like a baby. People run to me, greeting me and rejoicing. They welcome me with open arms and assure me that I have a new family and more importantly, a new life.
Words can’t express the gratitude I have for my advocate. I ask people how this is possible? Certainly someone must have paid the price? They point to a man and say, “He did.”
He bore the sentence for all of us in the room. That man was my advocate, Jesus Christ. I came to learn that through him, we are all given life, a new start, for he had paid the price on calvary for you and me. If not this, then what is Immeasurable Grace?
