As I drove to the courthouse, I thought to myself, don’t throw up. And don’t call him “your honour”. I had been summoned to appear before the local magistrate. Not to be dramatic, but my future depended on his verdict.
As I made my way to the stand, I visibly shook. With a stammering voice, I answered the magistrate’s questions. Then, after what seemed to be an eternity, he took his glasses off, peered down and delivered his verdict.
Even if you’ve never been to court, you no doubt have felt the dread-inducing weight of condemnation. I don’t know about you, but for me, it’s debilitating. To know I’ve messed up and that I’m going to have to pay the price for my mistake is one of the worst feelings I’ve experienced.
The apostle Paul gave flesh to the feeling when he wrote to the Galatians, “For all those who rely on the works of the law are under a curse” (Galatians 3:10). The law is good—Paul admits as much (Romans 7:7), yet it stands as an accuser. Though we all want to do what’s right, we’re also at war with ourselves. These ambivalences create conflict, which, if left unchecked, often lead to the same place that Paul himself came to that made him exclaim, “What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body that is subject to death?” (Romans 7:24).
On that day so many years ago, I felt this condemnation clearly. I knew I had done wrong and had no choice but to throw myself upon the mercy of the law. Likewise, when we do wrong, we too (figuratively) stand before the great Judge of the cosmos. Unlike a human magistrate, we can’t argue with God. No excuse nor justification makes a difference to the God who knows our innermost thoughts, feelings and motivations. We can perhaps trick other people from time to time but with God, there’s no hope. As Martin Luther reflected on his constant efforts to please God, “Though I lived as a monk without reproach, I felt that I was a sinner before God with an extremely disturbed conscience.”
Perhaps you’re wondering what happened that day at court. Don’t worry—I won’t leave you hanging. After deliberation, the magistrate said, “Young man, a driver’s licence is a privilege, not a right.”
“Yes sir,” was all I could manage.
Looking down again to the papers I’d provided, he cleared his throat. “I don’t want to see you here again, is that understood?”
“Yes sir, thank-you sir,” I stammered, before being shown the door. And just like that, it was all over.
As I walked down the courthouse steps, I felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The condemnation I had felt so keenly in the weeks leading up to my court appearance evaporated like mist in mid-morning. I was free.
That day I faced the magistrate, he could have “thrown the book at me”. Instead, he chose mercy—a decision for which I was incredibly grateful. However, there’s a distinct difference between a human magistrate and God. With a human, there is rarely assurance on the part of the defendant regarding the final verdict (unless they’ve been bribed). If, on the other hand, we embrace the sacrifice that Jesus made on our behalf, rely on Him to stand in our place before God and live in trust that the Cross is enough, there will be no question as to God’s judgement. After his outburst in Romans 7:24, Paul follows up with, “Thanks be to God, who delivers me through Jesus Christ our Lord!” The law, though it accuses us, has no power against the grace of God given through Jesus. We can have full assurance of salvation, not needing to fear, content that no matter our guilt, it has been washed clean by the blood of the Lamb. As Luther later said, “When I look at myself, I do not see how I can be saved; but when I look at Christ, I do not see how I can be lost.” May you trust in Jesus today—the only One who can save.
