Some days the prosecution whispers louder than he usually does. The notes pile higher and higher, showing me all of my flaws and insecurities. Although I know the notes he slides me are lies, I am somehow able to pick out truth in each one of them. My identity is tied to each piece of evidence held against me.
I am guilty, and I am ashamed.
but the whole point of Holy Week is to say that Death does not win. My attorney has stood in my place, taking on all of my shame, and allowing me to walk free.
My Advocate allows me to attach my identity to His perfection and grace, not in the evidence against me.
This is mercy’s war, and I know the one who wins.