The Thicket

In the depths of a thicket, where branches entwine and cast out light; there lived my cross. A monument to my failure, stored in a hiding place fed by regret. The cavern of the bramble was so dark it daily robbed the dawn of light and all I could ever see was the rotting wood of my life filled with the holes of my choices. As I looked on, the sea rose up and covered me to my knees. It washed away as quickly as it had arrived. Salt, the remnant, caused the thicket to wither and sink into the earth. And there I was, standing in an empty field, before my cross. As the sun rose behind it, the holes of my cross illuminated with the light of His Glory, covering my transgressions and transforming them in perfect light. In place of the scars to my past there were new pathways into my present and my future. The past burned away with the warmth of grace, filling today with light and hope. No longer the mess but a masterpiece. As I knelt in wonderment, I no longer saw the failures and the fear, my eyes opened to righteousness and the Kingdom of Heaven. The light, as it pushed through the holes, placed thousands of tiny spotlights on me and in that moment I understood my value. I am worth everything to Him in spite of the sins of the world that I lashed onto His back and the spit I hurled into His face and the crown of mockery I pushed into His temples and the holy separation I caused. For whom does a King suffer and die? He dies for the lost and the broken and the lonely and the torn. He died for me.