I am forgiven, Who I am in Christ

Reblog: Forgiven, Sin No More

But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger, as though He did not hear.

…When Jesus had raised Himself up and saw no one but the woman, He said to her, “Woman, where are those accusers of yours? Has no one condemned you?”

She said, “no one, Lord.”

Jesus said to her, “Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.”~ John 8:6, 10-11, NKJV

I can only imagine what Jesus wrote in the dirt that day. Perhaps a list of references, Ecclesiastes 7:20, Jeremiah 17:9, Psalm 14:3. Maybe a collective list of secret sins harbored by the individuals gathered around. We don’t know. But we do know that His actions changed a woman’s life.

He would not condemn her.

Her entire life, men have slammed her with either their contempt or their lust. On more than one occasion, both. But this one, the one they call Jesus of Nazareth? He silences the fury of the crowd with his own. He convicts those who had been so thirsty for her conviction. And then He speaks with words that are neither ostentatious nor impotent.

They dispersed, leaving her with her life.

“Does no one condemn you?”

Trembling, she barely meets His eyes. There, kindness gathers in pools—deeper than any she’d ever seen.

“No sir.” She cannot hold His gaze. He can see her sin, she knows it. Not just the fornication from which she’d just been ripped away, but the whole of it. Every evil thought. Every rebellious act. She is certain He knows it all. Shame ripples through her veins as burning liquid stings her eyes. If only the dirt would swirl around her—swallow her. Stoning may have been better.

“Nor do I.” Compassion lilts His voice. “Go, and sin no more.”

The tears fall, but they are no longer bitter. What manner of man is this? He would neither condemn her, nor take advantage of her? She’d never met such a one. Wonder crashes over her, and she chances a look back to him. He is waiting for her gaze with a small, tender smile.

Her breath catches short. Love. That is love! But not like any she’d ever seen among her people. Pure, unselfish, forgiving love. And he’d just washed her with it. In that instant she knew He was the Christ. Only the Chosen One could love like that—only the Messiah could forgive.

Forgiven. Released from the old sinful life. Redeemed from the demand of death, from a life of sin. She would not be the same. Ever.

The gift given to that woman on that day by that man has been given to me as well. Is my life the same?

I am forgiven, Who I am in Christ

Reblog: Forgiven by My Father

He has not dealt with us according to our sins,
Nor punished us according to our iniquities.

For as the heavens are high above the earth,
So great is His mercy toward those who fear Him;

As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us.

As a father pities his children,
So the LORD pities those who fear Him. ~ Psalms 103:10-13, NKJV

This is my favorite passage. Let me show you why . . .

Several years ago we caught one of our sweet children doing something wrong—and it was a pretty big deal. It was long and convoluted, and the whole of it played out in dramatic fashion (little girls are knitted with drama, right?). After the worst of the confession and discipline played out, she sobbed heavily. It was the kind of crying that comes from the soul, from a heart that is broken, not from a sneak that is simply mad at having been caught (I have three daughters, so I’ve become pretty good at recognizing the difference). I looked to my husband and we exchanged one of those puzzled ‘now what?’ glances. Disappointed by and now concerned for this rebuked, distraught little darlin’,  we gathered her little trembling frame close.

She pushed us away.

“Why?” We asked.

“Because you don’t love me.” She cracked between labored breaths.

I began to cry with her. “You really think I don’t love you?”

She took the tiniest peek at me, and then turned away. “No.” She broke again. “No, but you shouldn’t love me.”

Oh, that killer moment. It still makes me tear up.

I love my little girl. I wish we had different words for love, because saying I love her the same way I say I love my coffee doesn’t do any kind of justice to how I really feel for her. I. LOVE. Her.

Years past that moment, though I can remember the poignant emotion of that day, I honestly don’t know exactly what she had done. Because it was forgiven. It’s gone.

I’ve felt her ache, though. In moments when I realize how utterly wretched I am, how desperately broken, ugly, and wrong my heart is, I weep before God. “Why do you love me? You shouldn’t.”

And then He takes me close, and I’m pretty sure there are tears in His inaudible voice as He whispers, “I love you. As far as the east is from the west, I have removed your sin.”

And it’s gone.

I am forgiven, Who I am in Christ

Looking Back: Remembering I Am Forgiven

Another week, another opportunity to remember who I am in Christ.

This week let’s remember that forgiveness is free, but it didn’t come cheap. This thanksgiving week, I hope we can stop and really ponder the words to this song:

I’m forgiven, because you were forsaken

I’m accepted, you were condemned.

I’m alive and well, your Spirit lives within me, because you died and rose again.

Amazing love, how can it be? That you my King should die for me?

Amazing love, I know it’s true. It’s my joy to honor you. In all I do, I honor you.

Even if I didn’t have a bazillion things to be thankful for, which I do, that alone is more than enough for overflowing gratitude.

Jesus, thank you for forgiveness. You are my King.

I am forgiven

Forgiven–Sin No More

But Jesus stooped down and wrote on the ground with His finger, as though He did not hear.

…When Jesus had raised Himself up and saw no one but the woman, He said to her, “Woman, where are those accusers of yours? Has no one condemned you?”

She said, “no one, Lord.”

Jesus said to her, “Neither do I condemn you; go and sin no more.”~ John 8:6, 10-11, NKJVYou can’t grasp a stone while keeping a grip on grace. One or the other must stay on the ground.

I can only imagine what Jesus wrote in the dirt that day. Perhaps a list of references, Ecclesiastes 7:20, Jeremiah 17:9, Psalm 14:3. Maybe a collective list of secret sins harbored by the individuals gathered around. We don’t know. But we do know that His actions changed a woman’s life.

He would not condemn her.

Her entire life, men have slammed her with either their contempt or their lust. On more than one occasion, both. But this one, the one they call Jesus of Nazareth? He silences the fury of the crowd with his voiceless response. He convicts those who had been so thirsty for her conviction. And then He speaks with words that are neither ostentatious nor impotent.

They dispersed, leaving her with her life.

“Does no one condemn you?”

Trembling, she barely meets His eyes. There, kindness gathers in pools—deeper than any she’d ever seen.

“No sir.” She cannot hold His gaze. He can see her sin, she knows it. Not just the fornication from which she’d just been ripped away, but the whole of it. Every evil thought. Every rebellious act. She is certain He knows it all. Shame ripples through her veins as burning liquid stings her eyes. If only the dirt would swirl around her—swallow her. Stoning may have been better.

“Nor do I.” Compassion lilts His voice. “Go, and sin no more.”

The tears fall, but they are no longer bitter. What manner of man is this? He would neither condemn her, nor take advantage of her? She’d never met such a one. Wonder crashes over her, and she chances a look back to him. He is waiting for her gaze with a small, tender smile.

Her breath catches short. Love. That is love! But not like any she’d ever seen among her people. Pure, unselfish, forgiving love. And he’d just washed her with it. In that instant she knew He was the Christ. Only the Chosen One could love like that—only the Messiah could forgive.

Forgiven. Released from the old sinful life. Redeemed from the demand of death, from a life of sin. She would not be the same. Ever.

The gift given to that woman on that day by that man has been given to me as well. Is my life the same?

I am forgiven

Forgiven by My Father

He has not dealt with us according to our sins,
Nor punished us according to our iniquities.

For as the heavens are high above the earth,
So great is His mercy toward those who fear Him;

As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us.

As a father pities his children,
So the LORD pities those who fear Him. ~ Psalms 103:10-13, NKJV

This is my favorite passage. Let me show you why . . .

Several years ago we caught one of our sweet children doing something wrong—and it was a pretty big deal. It was long and convoluted, and the whole of it played out in dramatic fashion (little girls are knitted with drama, right?). After the worst of the confession and discipline played out, she sobbed heavily. It was the kind of crying that comes from the soul, from a heart that is broken, not from a sneak that is simply mad at having been caught (I have three daughters, so I’ve become pretty good at recognizing the difference). I looked to my husband and we exchanged one of those puzzled ‘now what?’ glances. Disappointed by and now concerned for this rebuked, distraught little darlin’,  we gathered her little trembling frame close.

EscapeShe pushed us away.

“Why?” We asked.

“Because you don’t love me.” She cracked between labored breaths.

I began to cry with her. “You really think I don’t love you?”

She took the tiniest peek at me, and then turned away. “No.” She broke again. “No, but you shouldn’t love me.”

Oh, that killer moment. It still makes me tear up.

I love my little girl. I wish we had different words for love, because saying I love her the same way I say I love my coffee doesn’t do any kind of justice to how I really feel for her. I. LOVE. Her.

Years past that moment, though I can remember the poignant emotion of that day, I honestly don’t know exactly what she had done. Because it was forgiven. It’s gone.

I’ve felt her ache, though. In moments when I realize how utterly wretched I am, how desperately broken, ugly, and wrong my heart is, I weep before God. “Why do you love me? You shouldn’t.”

And then He takes me close, and I’m pretty sure there are tears in His inaudible voice as He whispers, “I love you. As far as the east is from the west, I have removed your sin.”

And it’s gone.