I find my heart on trial.
In the judge’s seat sits the Creator of All.
My lawyer sits confidently by my side. They say He’s the best. He sought me out when He heard; He chose me, but allowed me to choose Him, too. He brings an intense peace—something that I can’t quite understand but am grateful for all the same.
Sitting at the opposite table is a handful of accusers. They stare with evil grins smeared across their faces. The seats behind them are overflowing with more accusers who are willing and excited to testify. They are a rowdy bunch; they point and glare and whisper to one another. Some yell obscenities across the courtroom. But one sits calmly with a piercing stare, with a confidence as if he knows something I don’t.
My stomach rolls. But my Lawyer grabs my hand and holds it tight, as if He knows what I’m feeling. His presence brings a calmness to my spirit.
I turn to the rows behind me—a few people are scattered throughout, but they all sit quietly and confidently.
The jury rows are empty. “Why isn’t there a jury,” I whispered to my Lawyer. “Their opinion doesn’t dictate the outcome of this hearing,” He whispered back. The sound of His voice was like nothing I’ve ever heard. It brought an unfathomable peace that overcame the fear and shame that was stampeding through my thoughts.
The mallet slams against the judge’s table five times. “Order,” He yells. The room quiets to silence. My heart starts racing, and my stomach turns. He grabs my hand again, and whispers gently into my ear “I won’t leave you, remember? I’m with you to the End.” His peace washes over me, but my ears keep returning to the lingering voices around the room, the ones that whisper my every wound, pain and failure; they don’t let me forget that “you are worthless”, “nobody likes you; you will always be alone”, “a real child of God would never…”
Someone behind me leans forward and whispers, “You don’t have to listen to them; if you want to settle your mind, then listen to the voice in front of you and not those behind you.” I turned around as Wisdom sits back in His seat. He gives me a small wink and a smile. In that moment, I remembered that I have control over my thoughts, and I can choose to accept or deny the words that are spoken to me and over me. I decided to pay attention to the Judge; the whispers behind me stopped, as if they knew their speech was in vain.
But even in the silence, my mind kept returning to why we were sitting in the courtroom. “I’m guilty,” I kept thinking. “What is going to happen? How will I be punished?” I turned to the crowd of accusers and saw them grinning at me. I refocused my thoughts on the words of the Judge. The accusers kept finding ways of sneaking thoughts into my head, and it was a constant choice to tune them out. I remembered that my Lawyer still held my hand within His, and that brought another wave of peace over me.
“Remember Who is holding you. Do you trust that He will fight for you?” Wisdom whispered into my ear. I sat in wonder.
