The freedom Christ provides is more than just freedom from sin; it is freedom from guilt, from pain, from shame, and from the weight of sin that so easily ensnares us.

Remember this truth as you read the story below: he whom the Son sets free is free indeed. And no one could ever take this freedom from us. No one.

As the courtroom doors opened before me, I prepared myself for the inevitable confrontation with my enemy, my nemesis, my accuser–the one who would never let me forget all I had done.  I shuttered at the thought of what he would bring up.   The lies?  The shame? The doubts? The mistakes?

The anticipation weighed heavily upon me, for I was guilty of so much.

And oh how I longed to flee–flee from this place–flee from everyone–flee from everything. But I was bound–chained to my sins, chained to my pain, and chained to my shame. The physical chains holding me prisoner were nothing compared to the shackles surrounding my heart.

While I reluctantly shuffled into the court room, I purposefully fixed my eyes on the floor.  I didn’t dare look up.  I knew I’d see the eyes of my accuser glaring at me, diminishing what little of me still existed.

When I sat down in my chair (secretly thankful it could bear the weight of everything​ I carried inside), I could sense someone seated next to me. Yet I didn’t dare to look. What was the point? I couldn’t bear to face another accuser and certainly no one would dare to defend me. Who could ever defend what I’d done? Who would ever want to try?

My accuser, sensing my weakness at its peak, stood up and began to attack.  He accused me of my sins, of my mistakes.  He poured on the shame and the pain. He played out every detail of every dark deed I’d ever done or thought about​ doing.

Each accusation pierced my already shackled heart. And I couldn’t control the emotion; I wept.

Upon seeing the success of his attack, my accuser sat down. He had made his case before the judge. He was finished.

And I was broken.

Silence ensued.

What could I do?  What could I say?  My accuser had nailed every aspect of my life.  I was ashamed.

I was guilty.

And then I felt it: the hand on my shoulder.   The warmth of its touch conveyed strength without condemnation, compassion without judgment and sent shivers down my spine.   Who could possibly want to touch my filth, my ugliness, and my shame?

Compelled to see the person behind this living, loving touch, I ever so slowly lifted my eyes.  A man met my gaze.   The same compassion, strength, and love that were in his touch now emanated from his eyes.  He loved me.   This man who had just heard the accuser—who knew all the darkness within me–loved me. But how? How could it be?

With his hand still on my shoulder, the one who knew me and loved me turned to the judge and spoke. “My Father.”

My Father?!  He was the judge’s son?! Why would the judge’s son love me?! Why would the judge’s son try to help me?! This just didn’t make sense.

The man continued, “I present to you Katie:  righteous, holy, and worthy of acceptance.”  His words penetrated my heart.   Righteous?  Holy?  Worthy?  But how?  Didn’t he see me as I saw me?!

Apparently not.

He turned back to me, his intense love piercing the darkness in my heart, reached out his hand—his nail scarred hand—and invited me to take it, to join him in fellowship.

As I reached out to take his hand, I sensed the shackles surrounding  my broken heart fall away. And the sound of metal resonated within the courtroom as my physical chains also fell to the floor. This wasn’t just a man; He was my Healer–the One who was going to pick up the broken pieces of my heart and mend them into His image.

I was not only forgiven; I was free.

I heard the accuser groan.

With a new confidence, I turned to face the judge.  There was no condemnation.   No fear.   There was no death sentence.  Just love.

The judge began to speak: “My precious child, before the foundation of the world, I knew you,” He declared.  “I created you, Katie.  I formed you with value and with a purpose.  Marvelous are My works and you are one of them.  You are Mine.  I love you.”

Three words—I love you—again cut through the darkness.   I crumpled to the floor.  How could it be that the Holy One could love me?

Knowing my thoughts, He continued. “Because I love you, Katie, I sent my Son, my beloved Son, to save you.  He paid the penalty for your sins.  He died in your place then rose again in order to give you life—a new life.  You are justified and free, Katie.  You have been redeemed.  You are a new creation.  You are my precious child whom I adore. Come.  Have fellowship with us and be free.”

I bowed before my Lord and my Savior—grateful to be alive, grateful to be free, and grateful to be loved.   His Son again took my hand and lifted me up from the floor.

I stood up a new person.

And my accuser fled.

My Savior had won!

His love had filled the void and vanquished the lies.  I was whole.   I was free—free from condemnation, free from shame, free from pain, free from the chains.  I had been set free by the son, and I was free indeed….

And so are you…

If you believe.

For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him is not condemned, but whoever does not believe is condemned already, because he has not believed in the name of the only Son of God.
John 3:17‭-‬18


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