Picture a dark, vacuous room with me sitting in a single chair in the middle and a lone light bulb hanging over my head. Before me, out of my vision, is a deep, accusing voice listing every wrong thing I've ever done. As the voice drones on, I am filled with the memory of every moment of every sin. This used to be what I saw when I thought of the judgment seat of Christ, but not anymore.
Now I envision being presented with a picture of the person I was meant to be. Not a two-dimensional photo, but more of a real-time introduction to the actual woman, herself, with a complete and instantaneous knowledge of who she really is. In an instant, I will know how woefully I fall short.
In the playback of my life, I believe there will be moments, glorious moments, where I got it right, if only for an instant. But I can tell you there will be so much waste and multiple degrees of ugliness overall.
I look at people like that, sometimes. There is a nurse at work who, quite frankly, is just nasty and almost scary to approach. She even looks hateful. I admit to being completely intimidated by her, and yet, I feel unbelievable compassion for her, as well. What kind of pain has she experienced to treat people with such contempt? I find myself whispering under my breath when she's around, "This is not who you were meant to be."
So much easier to see it in other people; so much harder to turn and examine myself.
But I hear it, too. As I ignore a child in favor of a Facebook comment, or indulge in gossip on the job, or stuff my stress with my favorite dessert, deep in my soul I hear a whisper.
Now I envision being presented with a picture of the person I was meant to be. Not a two-dimensional photo, but more of a real-time introduction to the actual woman, herself, with a complete and instantaneous knowledge of who she really is. In an instant, I will know how woefully I fall short.
In the playback of my life, I believe there will be moments, glorious moments, where I got it right, if only for an instant. But I can tell you there will be so much waste and multiple degrees of ugliness overall.
I look at people like that, sometimes. There is a nurse at work who, quite frankly, is just nasty and almost scary to approach. She even looks hateful. I admit to being completely intimidated by her, and yet, I feel unbelievable compassion for her, as well. What kind of pain has she experienced to treat people with such contempt? I find myself whispering under my breath when she's around, "This is not who you were meant to be."
So much easier to see it in other people; so much harder to turn and examine myself.
But I hear it, too. As I ignore a child in favor of a Facebook comment, or indulge in gossip on the job, or stuff my stress with my favorite dessert, deep in my soul I hear a whisper.
This is not who you were meant to be.
I want to be her, the woman I was meant to be. I want to surrender and be saved, to die to myself, to take up my cross and follow Him. I want to walk on water, to soar to new heights, to put aside the trappings of this life. I want to set aside my selfishness and to let Him live through me. I want to love as He loves.
This is not a life to be squandered. And it is short. When I come to the end of it, I want to hear, "Well done, thou good and faithful servant." I want there to be more glorious moments than waste on the replay, more good than evil, more right than erroneous wrong.
I don't want to just end up, God help me.
I want to arrive.
SO good, Tara! *Goosebumps, welled-up eye s good* :)
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