Ashamed
An angel leads me home, and to the throne room of God. He stops at the door, opening it for me. As I step into the room, I notice that I am on a long, royal blue carpet leading to the throne, where Jesus sits. He looks up and sees me, and smiles.
He is so perfect, so beautiful. So pure.
I take a step forward, then stop, the smile fading from my face. I whisper to myself, “I can’t,” and turn, running back through the door, and into the angel who brought me here.
He grabs me by the upper arms, halting my flight. “Where are you going, child?” he asks.
I try to pull away as I respond, “You don’t understand. I can’t go in there.”
He tilts my face up to him, saying, “Why? What’s wrong?”
“He’s so pure, so clean. But I’m not. You don’t understand how much I’ve sinned, how dirty I am.” I try to explain.
“He knows that, child. What are you afraid of?”
I look down, ashamed. “I’m afraid,” I whisper, “that if I get too close, my sin will dirty Him. It’s like letting a muddy dog into a wedding – sooner or later, some of that mud will rub off.” I look back up at him, tears finally beginning to fall. “I love Him too much to let that happen.” I pull away from the angel, and walk quickly towards the door.
A single word freezes me in my tracks. “Wait!” I stop, then fall on my knees and bow my head, knowing Who commands me.
His deep, gentle voice behind me says, “Thank you, Mikahel, for bringing My child home. Please excuse us.”
I hide my face in my hands, crying. “Don’t look at me, Lord.” I whisper. “I love You so much, but I would rather leave here than to make You dirty.”
I hear Him sigh, then walk to me, and I begin to shake as my eyes, peeking through my fingers, see scarred feet come into view. He kneels but I can’t bear to look at Him, and close my eyes. He pulls my face gently up to His as He says, “Your eyes are so beautiful. Won’t you show them to Me?”
I slowly open my eyes, and I am surprised by the fiery possessiveness I see in Him. “You belong to Me. I would not allow anyone to take you from Me in the world. Now that you are finally home, do you really think I would allow you to leave Me?”
I bite my lip, and I shake my head.
“But my sin, Lord. . .” His finger on my lips silences the word.
“You have no sin,”
“You know everything, Lord. Even after I came to You, I sinned.”
His gaze softens. “Perhaps. But since I bought and paid for your sin, it belongs to Me. It is Mine to do with as I please. It pleases Me to throw it so far from you that even I cannot retrieve it. So, you can’t make Me dirty, but I can, and do, make you clean.”
“But that’s not fair, Lord. You didn’t sin, I did.”
He smiles. “Who created the universe, child?”
“You did, Lord.”
“Then am I not the One who determines what is fair, and what is not?”
He waits patiently as I try to process this information.
As the message sinks in and finds a home in my heart, I look up at Him and smile shyly. He takes my hand and we stand together; and when He pulls me into His arms, nothing else matters.
After a few minutes, He pulls away a little. “Okay, now?” My smile widens, and I nod.
He takes my hand, and we walk together into the throne room. As we approach the throne, He squeezes my hand, and releases it. I stop there, and Jesus resumes His seat on the throne. As His eyes sparkle, I kneel, and I’m where I belong.