Can No One Redeem Me?

 

Can No One Redeem Me?

by H. R. Remminga

My life should be Hell.

By all accounts,

I should be condemned and judged,

Thrown down into that fire pit with the serpent

And left to live in burning agony for eternity.

I should be looked at with contempt.

The sight of me should fill you with disgust

And make you turn your face from me.

I’m filthy.

Covered in rags of deceit, malice, and selfishness.

I stink of envy, greed, and dishonesty.

My eyes shine bright with pride and haughtiness.

I deserve to die for what I have done.

I deserve to be beaten, stoned, ridiculed.

I deserve to be left 

In the filthiest, deepest, darkest corner

Of the filthiest, deepest, darkest cell

In the filthiest, deepest, darkest prison

In the filthiest, deepest, darkest location.

This is what I deserve for my pride,

My envy, my hate.

For my deceit and self-centeredness.

Especially for having hurt, 

Ruthlessly torn apart, 

And cut down people around me.

Intentionally done with my cruel,

Cold, calculated words. 

I deserve to be punished.

In fact, why not start by cutting my tongue out? 

It is a sharp-edged sword after all. 

It is my favourite weapon of choice. 

But that’s such a small weapon

Come to think about it. 

Why not my eyes?

Gouge them out and toss them to the dogs.

After all, 

My eyes are the easiest way to cut someone down. 

Just a simple look 

And I could ruin someone's day. 

Just a mere glance 

And a happy moment is snatched away.

And what about my ears? 

They pick up the most hurtful pieces of gossip
And take delight in it. 
Just keep chipping away 
At me until there is no evil part of me left. 
After all, it's what I deserve.
Why not just remove all my sinful parts
And leave only the untainted, the pure.
But what's the point in that?
By the time you're done,
By the time all evil is cut off me and cast away,
There would be nothing left.
Not a single bit.
Why not make the world a better place 
And just dispose of me now?
After all, by removing one bit of evil
It should be just that one bit cleaner.
Shouldn't it?
After all, 
Death is the penalty of sin.
So shoot me, cast stones at me,
Throw me off a cliff,
Because that’s what I deserve.

But hold on a minute.
Is there no way to redeem me?
None at all?
Is there no one who can look at me with love?
Is there someone out there 
Who can see past my filth and rebelliousness?
Is it even possible, at all,
for someone to see past my faults?
Is it?
Well, there is one.
He’s willing to smile at me among the mockers
He will pick me up and care for me when I fall.
Every day he whispers in my ear,
“You are loved, you are clean, 
you are precious. 
Look at my hands, 
Look at my feet.
Do you see these wounds?
Do you see the scars on my head?
Do you not see?
I took your place.
I wore a crown of thorns for you.

I was nailed to that tree for you.

I died for you.

I did this, so you could be set free.

So you can be clean again.

I claim you as my child,

A co-heir to the kingdom of God.

I want to exchange your filthy rags 

With the cleanest, whitest, clothes I can find.

Will you claim me?

Will you accept my free gift?

I shed my blood for you,

Because you are worth it.”

I don't need to look at His hands,

His feet, his bloodied brow.

Because I can see the immense love

He has for me in his eyes.

I can see the immense sacrifice 

That he made for me.

Seeing the love he has poured out for me

It is enough.

So I fall at his feet in reverence and worship.