Your religion is between you, and your God. We can learn from others, and grow together, but I believe that ultimately it's something only God can give you.
I believe God has given me a new view this week; a new way to look at a principle I've been struggling to understand lately. The idea stems from Paul's Epistle to the Romans. How are we saved? By works alone? By faith? I say both. For Christ is who saves us in the end, and we must have at least some form of faith in Him.
Remember though, that faith without works is dead. We ALL sin, we ALL make mistakes, and we ALL need to be saved. We need to do all we can in this life; be the best we can possibly be, but in the end that will not save us. Only Christ's intervention in our judgment can do that.
Remember though, that faith without works is dead. We ALL sin, we ALL make mistakes, and we ALL need to be saved. We need to do all we can in this life; be the best we can possibly be, but in the end that will not save us. Only Christ's intervention in our judgment can do that.I learned a new analogy the other day for what our judgment might be like. It may not actually be this way, but the principle is there:
The Court
That life is past, the time is here. I always knew this day would appear.
I'm confident I lived my life the best I could; I walked pretty straight.
I'm prepared for what happens next. I'm ready, I did my best.
I sit outside those grand oak doors and let the silence fill the hall.
A quiet sound seeps through the door. It's hard to tell, but it might be a weep.
I start to get nervous; I start to pace.
What happens behind those doors so great? What's the direction of my fate?
I get anxious as I sit and wait.
Yet I ease my soul with a hymn of Him.
When my time comes, the doors give a creak, a young man in white makes a small squeak.
He bids me come, and I follow him in.
Into a small court he leads me, with quick steps he bids me.
To a brown chair he ushers me, smiles softly then leaves.
I'm alone not too long when the prosecutor comes.
He smirks at me bitterly, sets his papers down, and drums.
At the same time, they enter, all twelve not missing one.
The court master enters, cries out, "all arise!"
Everyone present, in highest reverence, stands up and awaits the judge.
He comes in so gracefully, takes His seat and looks towards me.
I see the great love in his magnificent eyes, but also some pain as He voices, "advise."
Like a movie my life plays, flashing brightly before us.
My hurts and my pains, my good moments too; all of my life, through and through.
I cringe at my mistakes, my sins, and my thoughts.
At times I slump down, to hide from the frown.
I realize how weak I had been in life.
I'd tripped and I'd fallen, and at times, didn't get up.
My memory was clearer, I'd messed up all right.
Then Satan, he stopped it, and turned to the court.
"Good sirs," he did croon, "I think that's quite enough.
I think we can all see what this girl deserves.
Let me bring in her mother, her brother, her friend.
And we'll show you all what a mess she has been."
From then on, a line formed, with all the people I've wronged.
They all gave their testimony of how I had hurt them.
I cried when I realized how many I forsook and all the ones I overlooked.
Without end was my weeping as the case kept on leaping.
So many I had harmed with my words or my deeds.
My thoughts and my actions had harmed those in need.
Some had had a hard day, others just lost a friend.
Others were breaking inside or loosing their stride.
And yet I had not helped them, I broke them instead.
My neglect was as bad as a stab through the heart.
So many I had hurt, oh so many I failed to comfort.
My head pleaded, "Stop! What about the pain I was in?!"
But the moment I said it, I knew I was wrong. I had harmed them, not been trampled upon.
I turned to despair as I wept on the chair.
God could not take me to Heaven like this.
I was bad and had sinned and was selfish and wrong.
I'd resolved to go quietly to where Satan had planned.
I knew the judgment was just, and I should hope for no more.
As I readied to go, give up, and move on, a soft hand touched my shoulder and warmth filled my skin.
My Brother the Elder, stood by me just then.
His face was so kind, so gentle, not grim.
He hugged me just briefly, then advanced to the stand.
He spoke shortly with God, put his hand out and then,
I saw Him write something quickly on the stand before God.
He stepped back from the podium and looked keenly toward me.
His outreached hand lifted me from the chair, and lead me away from the stare.
I heard Satan scream behind me, "But how could this be?!"
Then God stated softly, "It is done, she is free."
I looked to my Brother, who smiled without guile.
We walked on, and I thought, "what are those marks in his hands,
and in His feet in his sandles too?"
Then I looked to his finger, on the hand that he wrote with,
and started to cry when I saw the red tip.
That life is past, the time is here. I always knew this day would appear.
I'm confident I lived my life the best I could; I walked pretty straight.
I'm prepared for what happens next. I'm ready, I did my best.
I sit outside those grand oak doors and let the silence fill the hall.
A quiet sound seeps through the door. It's hard to tell, but it might be a weep.
I start to get nervous; I start to pace.
What happens behind those doors so great? What's the direction of my fate?
I get anxious as I sit and wait.
Yet I ease my soul with a hymn of Him.
When my time comes, the doors give a creak, a young man in white makes a small squeak.
He bids me come, and I follow him in.
Into a small court he leads me, with quick steps he bids me.
To a brown chair he ushers me, smiles softly then leaves.
I'm alone not too long when the prosecutor comes.
He smirks at me bitterly, sets his papers down, and drums.
At the same time, they enter, all twelve not missing one.
The court master enters, cries out, "all arise!"
Everyone present, in highest reverence, stands up and awaits the judge.
He comes in so gracefully, takes His seat and looks towards me.
I see the great love in his magnificent eyes, but also some pain as He voices, "advise."
Like a movie my life plays, flashing brightly before us.
My hurts and my pains, my good moments too; all of my life, through and through.
I cringe at my mistakes, my sins, and my thoughts.
At times I slump down, to hide from the frown.
I realize how weak I had been in life.
I'd tripped and I'd fallen, and at times, didn't get up.
My memory was clearer, I'd messed up all right.
Then Satan, he stopped it, and turned to the court.
"Good sirs," he did croon, "I think that's quite enough.
I think we can all see what this girl deserves.
Let me bring in her mother, her brother, her friend.
And we'll show you all what a mess she has been."
From then on, a line formed, with all the people I've wronged.
They all gave their testimony of how I had hurt them.
I cried when I realized how many I forsook and all the ones I overlooked.
Without end was my weeping as the case kept on leaping.
So many I had harmed with my words or my deeds.
My thoughts and my actions had harmed those in need.
Some had had a hard day, others just lost a friend.
Others were breaking inside or loosing their stride.
And yet I had not helped them, I broke them instead.
My neglect was as bad as a stab through the heart.
So many I had hurt, oh so many I failed to comfort.
My head pleaded, "Stop! What about the pain I was in?!"
But the moment I said it, I knew I was wrong. I had harmed them, not been trampled upon.
I turned to despair as I wept on the chair.
God could not take me to Heaven like this.
I was bad and had sinned and was selfish and wrong.
I'd resolved to go quietly to where Satan had planned.
I knew the judgment was just, and I should hope for no more.
As I readied to go, give up, and move on, a soft hand touched my shoulder and warmth filled my skin.
My Brother the Elder, stood by me just then.
His face was so kind, so gentle, not grim.
He hugged me just briefly, then advanced to the stand.
He spoke shortly with God, put his hand out and then,
I saw Him write something quickly on the stand before God.
He stepped back from the podium and looked keenly toward me.
His outreached hand lifted me from the chair, and lead me away from the stare.
I heard Satan scream behind me, "But how could this be?!"
Then God stated softly, "It is done, she is free."
I looked to my Brother, who smiled without guile.
We walked on, and I thought, "what are those marks in his hands,
and in His feet in his sandles too?"
Then I looked to his finger, on the hand that he wrote with,
and started to cry when I saw the red tip.
Wow Cozie, I like that poem and I like your new view on religion and the Atonement. Thank you for sharing. Love you bunches!
ReplyDeleteCosette, I really like both your view and the story/poem. Did you write both, or did you get the story from somewhere, if you did where? I rather like it! You know, when you think about everything in your life that you had done wrong...and how the savior forgives you and that he died for your sins it really changes your outlook on the atonement and the way you live your life. I like the story, and how at the end the girl is set free. But I agree with you, I think it needs to be by works and faith! Thank you for sharing! :)
ReplyDeleteThanks for your comments guys! I did write both of them (including the poem). I agree with you Telly; it's amazing what the Lord does for us. My teacher helped us understand the other day who exactly the ALL was that Christ is willing to save. I wanted to write it in my post, but ran out of time. Basically though, he said that while any one of us might be willing to die so that a family member, friend, or even our classmates might live, not very many of us would choose to die for a murderer, rapist, child molester, notorious robber, or serial killer. We won't, but Christ will. Because He loves them too. It's powerful!
ReplyDelete