Here I am.
Face to face with my own brokenness.
In desperation I cry out, oh God…deliver me, as I see the depth of my sin, realize the immensity of my weakness. Oh God…deliver me.
But how? How does He deliver? What will He do to free me from myself?
Let Me show you the dream on My heart, He whispers.
And He takes me to that place.
That place of most dreaded sadness. There. Golgotha. Mary’s robes whipping in the wind as tears stream down her face. Man unrecognizable hanging on a tree. Blood-soaked ground and moans of anguish.
This is My dream, He says again with wetness on his cheeks and a smile tugging the corners of his mouth.
Oh God. God. What could you mean? How is this Your dream?
Here, give Me your sin. Give Me your brokenness, He says.
I hand it over and wonder what on earth my sin has to do with His dream. He takes it in His hands and walks over to this place of greatest grief…the cross of Christ. He lays my sins there at the cross and beckons for me.