The Final Sentence
The final sentence is true. Feet shuffled to their seats, the smell of sweat on men, officers being attentive to every movement, oh how I remember it, no one spoke nor whispered, only the two of us making eye contact, I could almost taste it, guilt.
Although I hated and feared this kind of situation there was no escape for me. I courted death before laying my hand on the Bible.
I fell through the trapdoor of self-righteousness. And the God I put on trial was the judge before whom I’d stand. My trial and error was bringing a charge.
Pages turned, split, fell open. Or did they stand like the walls of the old salt sea– revealing a red-stained path?
As he read, the thought washed over me: There’s no excuse. When you’ve been deceived by the venom of worldly wisdom, when you’ve fallen into pride, and when you too, along with Eve, would make a bad use of immortality, then you’d know that I don’t deserve his perfect use of mortality, his humility, or even his foolishness which confounds the wisest of men.
But what followed was written in the books before I ever saw the sun. The judge cast a net of winsome words, fishing, catching. And my raging sea took the witness stand before it was an ocean of love.
The book opened and the word moved to pierce. It was then that I saw him. He stood in the foreground, the cost in the background. And it was he who was crushed by the blow of justice. He is God. There is no other. His council shall stand forever. His purposes shall be accomplished.
The tempestuous wind and waves, he rebuked. And his verdict thundered while conviction rained down my face. And the sea of sorrow transformed into a path of glory. His death freed me from death. His life freed me to live. The female deceived, (oh glorious reversal!) saw a Savior born of a woman. Jesus is my defense, here the sentence is final.