The judgement
As a child I lived in terror of the judgement; maybe it was because of the blue and red children's Bible story books we read as kids, the comments I heard in the foyer at church, or teachings from devoted and well meaning Bible teachers.
I spent many nights imagining the seat of judgement at the end of days. I saw myself standing in a row, waiting behind a long snaking line of people walking up to the throne of God. On that throne He sat, stern, methodical, looking over a book to determine who would make it in.
All the people in line wanted to make it in, but it was up to the gatekeeper to decide what happened. Inevitably the line split. Some went down to a hot place (which I knew would only burn for a short while, but still—it's hot) and others ascended upward with harps and singing.
This view terrified me, and drove me to look at how I might make myself better, clean myself up, rid myself of any sins or imperfections in my life.
It turned me into a works focused person.
And, as you can guess, the task I took on was impossible.
I couldn't clean up my own dirty rags, I couldn't make myself perfect. I tried, of course.
In my mind an angry God waited, accused, took down notes, and was ready to mark me as failed in an eternal test.
That's such a sad, wrong, twisted view of our God. It's the story that the Deceiver has been spinning and telling for ages, trying to get us to believe that we're not worthy, not loved, that we're mere worms and dust and whatever eternal glory we might hope for is out of reach (and boring too if we were ever able to make it).
This morning I re-listened to a sermon I've heard several times over the years. In it, Jeffrey Rosario speaks of a judgement that we can look forward to, be excited for, to anxiously anticipate.
In it he lays out Biblical proof for Jesus acting as our lawyer and judge.
The picture turns on its head when we realize that Jesus is not acting as an arbitrary God looking for ways to keep us out of eternal bliss. Instead, he's done everything for us, and only asks us to accept His gift. That's it. The only choice we have is deciding if we'd rather be on our own—and even in that God is merciful and will ultimately grant us our wish, but only after a lifetime of trying to call us in the other direction.
That picture, well it's beautiful.
It changes a belief of fear, of terror, of anticipation and worry for a future we can't be good enough for and turns it into something entirely different.
Where before we thought we had to do it all ourselves, and inevitably would slide back five steps for every attempted step forward; now we can see that we have a friend who will come alongside us and help us through it, carry us where needed, and advocate for us to himself.
That's something to look forward to, and it's a topic that is inexhaustible and worthy of our time and attention.