Sacrifice

Life is hard.

I know I've started a blog post with that same sentence before, but it's true.

It's hard, it's messy, it's sad.

This isn't going to be a post about depression, but it's going to be real.

When I turned 18, I thought I would be somewhere totally different than where I am now.

I thought I would have things figured out.

I thought I'd be much more confident.

I thought I'd be really fit.

Things have a way of turning out much differently than you think. Is that God at work? I believe so.

Instead, I find myself:

Asking who I am just like the girls in all those Disney films.

Questioning my Faith.

Stressing about what I'm going to DO in life. I'm not where I thought I would be and I'm not WHO I thought I would be. 

I'm broken. 

I'm confused.

I finally broke down to my Dad and told him how I felt. I told him I didn't want my Faith like this anymore, tossing to and fro. I wanted a steady Faith like his, to be confident in knowing WHO I am and WHAT I was made to do. A Faith like armor that blocks the arrows of doubt and depression and worry. I didn't want a Faith that only swelled when listening to generic Christian music then deflated when I was faced with a hard decision or day. I want a Faith that BURNS with passion for our God.

That does not doubt, that never forgets God's grace and Jesus sacrifice.

A few weeks ago, our Pastor was talking about boredom in his sermon. He said, "If you're ever bored, contemplate the cross."

A man went through hell for us.

Not just physically, but spiritually too. He faced the wrath of God so we wouldn't have to. He carried my sin on his bruised and beaten shoulders. He carried your sin too. There were nails driven through his hands and feet, crushing their bones like splinters. There was a crown of thorns piercing his brow. There must have been blood dripping into his eyes. He must have been fighting for every crushed breath. He endeared the unimaginable agony and shame of being slowly killed in front of dozens of mocking people.

Think about the mental pain. the thousands and millions of sins suddenly thrust upon him. Think about when you've sinned, how it eats up your insides and you just feel . . . sick. You feel ugly. Well, our Lord carried that sin. All of it. All of my sin, all of your sin, and all the sins of His chosen people.

Then, it happened. God turned his face away from him. The earth cracked and the curtain tore. All was dark. And for one moment, the earth saw a fraction of God's wrath.

Then, I realized something.

I was there.

I was with the mockers who stood before the cross.

I was with the soldier who stood before the cross with questions spinning through His mind.

Who is this man?

Then, he died.

Here I am talking about my problems and how stressed I am and how broken I am and how depressed I am when the Son of our Lord and creator died on a cross with every. single. sin I have and ever will commit on his shoulders.

Why would he want to save ME?

I used to be among the mockers, the questioners. I was among those who wept for their Savior and those who wept because they knew it was not right. It was not Just.

Why would he want to save a girl who constantly questions if He is really there? Who constantly complains about her life and worries about what she will do? Who constantly complains about how she looks and how she will never be good enough?

I am not worthy.

I never will be.

But, God says no.

He says I am worthy.

Jesus opens the locked door of the dark room I have hidden myself in. He looks over the walls of this room and sees the thousands upon thousands of wicked thoughts and deeds and scars and scratches and cracks and blemishes covering every inch of the surrounding walls. He takes the sleeve of His perfect, spotless, shining rob and beings to wipe away the dripping, black, ugly words and marks on the wall.

Black ink begins to stain His clothing.

"Lord, no! Please, don't do this! I am too ugly to be saved. I have sinned too much. I have thought too many ugly things. I have doubted for too lo-"

"No,"

"But, Lord-"

"Shelby, you are mine."

"Lord, you can-"

"Shelby, your sins are mine. You are free."

The once dark and scribbled walls are now clear. His robe is stained with my sins.

My ugly sins.

But, he points toward the door and it is open. Light leaks through, warming my cold blood, bringing life to my frozen limbs.

I am free.

Yes, I am broken. I have let myself be trapped in a pit of my own sin and doubts. I have seen how self centered I am, how I could not stand on my own righteousness when that day comes.

But, God.

"But, God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ" (Ephesians 2:4-5)

Sometimes it's hard for us who have been raised in a Christian home to understand this. We've grown up with these verses, maybe even memorized them. It's hard to believe it. It's hard to see it.

Contemplate the cross.

Think about the room you were once trapped in yourself.

Think of Jesus,

Our troubles pale in comparison to the ultimate sacrifice He made.

Look up and see His light, see the open door, see the walls that were once covered in your sin made clean by His blood.

You are free.