I stood there raising my hands, hanging my head as the music
resounded and my heart pounded because I am so unworthy to stand behind this
name… and yet I can. And I do. With all
I’ve got.
“All condemned, feel
no shame at the sound of Your great name. (Romans 8:1)
Every fear has no
place at the sound of Your great name. (1 John 4:18)
The enemy, he has to
leave at the sound of Your great name. (James 4:7)”
On Good Friday, I worshipped the God who rescued me, His Son
who bled for me, just like I do on any given Sunday, every given day. I stood on
shaking legs, singing praises, shouting His great name, drowning in His
goodness when there is nothing good in me.
And I realized how so very far I am from understanding the work He did
at Calvary, from understanding His great name, His greater love that surrendered
His sinless life to hang on a tree. A death we can scarcely fathom. All so our souls could stand… free.
“Jesus, worthy is the
Lamb that was slain for us. Son of God and man You are high and lifted up. That
all the world will praise Your great name.”
The name of Jesus… one day every knee will bow and every tongue
confess that Jesus is Lord. But, not
today. Today, the battle rages on… even
on Good Friday. Even within my own
heart. Even when I call on this name, Jesus,
I still battle to take hold of what it means to me here and now. That I am free. That the cross was enough. There are no chains
on me. I am free of shame, free of
condemnation, free in Christ. And, I can
barely grasp it. Because the enemy, he’s clamoring my broken chains behind me and
whispering his lies and worse… his half-truths.
His sole purpose? To keep me from
mine. And some days, it’s all so easy to
believe and the familiar sounds from those shackles of my yesterdays, they can drag
me down to a darkness I remember all too well. And I start believing things
will never change. All this following
hard after Jesus just makes the enemy more persistent with his lies.
But this name…
Jesus. He puts the
enemy at my feet. His name comes with power, declaring my freedom. And, it is enough. More than enough. Because, “It is finished.” There is nothing I can do. There never was. The veil is torn and I can freely
delight in the presence of God again, the very thing I was made to do. Jesus drank from this cup of suffering when I was
His enemy, in direct opposition to the Father, stained and unclean. And He
was nailed to a tree and spilled innocent blood just longing for the day I
could turn around and call Him friend. So this carpenter’s son who was God’s
Son built a bridge from my stubborn heart to the very heart of God.
All this and yet, I still hang my head on Good Friday. And I bend over in shame and wrap my heart in
the torn veil scraps as I wonder how to take hold of this freedom, how to stand
tall. Unashamed. Because, just like Adam
and Eve in the garden, I’m hiding behind the bushes in my shame, a victim of my own humanness
that believes there is work to do to earn my grace.
“Hungry souls receive
grace at the sound of Your great name. (Psalm 107:9)”
God, He has forgiven me one crown of thorns, a bloody
beating and three nails over. And, He asks us to forgive as He has forgiven. But
the well of grace is dry within me when it comes to my own soul. Why is
His grace washing so hard to accept, believe, claim? Because I know my whole truth so breathing grace
over myself? How could I?
But God, He knows the whole truth too. He
knows every thought I hold. He sees all the things I do in the quiet places
just as clearly as the open places. He
hears every word that rolls off my tongue.
Every. Single. One. And still, He whispers love straight through the
veil and calls my heart out of hiding.
He exhales grace all over me at the slightest whisper of
this name. Jesus. The things I’ve done, they
had no power over the grave. All my words, all my thoughts, all my
yesterdays, they hold no power still. Because
God the Father, He can’t take back the cross. He can’t fill the grave, replace
the stone and take away the victory. It.
Is. Finished. This sovereign God, He
doesn’t make mistakes. He saw from the
cross what I see in my yesterdays. And
He’s continually raining down grace because we continually need it. Open hands, bent knees, humble hearts receive
grace. Not shame.
My chains are broken, my heart free, my soul dancing in His healing rain. And the reality of my freedom swells a burning desire within me to join my Redeemer in setting the capitves free... all in the power of this name. Jesus.
"The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners." (Isaiah 61:1-2)
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