Short Story
The Judgement
As I lay with all of my loved ones around me, I had a sense of peace. And then, before I knew it, I was standing in a long line.
I couldn’t see what was happening up ahead, but I could hear cries for mercy, the sound of anguish, and now and then, a sudden flash of light that made the air tremble.
The line moved slowly forward, each soul waiting their turn. When I finally reached the front, I could see what was happening. A well dressed woman stepped forward, her file placed upon the scales. The folder was thin. She had the look of someone who had lived a respectable life. But when the verdict came, the word struck the air like fire:
“Guilty.”
She wept bitterly as they led her away. “But I was a good person! I didn’t steal or lie! I gave to charity! I went to church sometimes! I did good things, you’ve made a mistake!”
Yet no one moved. No one spoke. Her cries faded into the distance.
Next, a man stood before the court. His file was placed on the scales. Again, it did not measure up. He too protested, declaring his innocence, insisting on all the good things he had done. But the verdict was the same. He too was led away.
And then, it was my turn.
The angels lifted my file, and my heart sank in horror. It was enormous, far larger than those before me. Page after page of failure, sin, shame, rebellion. I wanted to run, to hide, but there was nowhere to go. The scales groaned under the weight as my book was dropped upon them, tipping hard, dragging everything downward.
The Accuser stepped forward, his voice sharp and cruel. He read the charges out loud, every lie, every betrayal, every wound I had caused, every dark secret I thought no one knew. Each word pierced me like a blade. I could not deny a single one.
Tears blurred my vision. I had nothing to say. No excuse to offer. No defence to make. The verdict was about to be spoken. I was guilty, and I knew it.
But then, a light.
At first, faint, then brilliant, flooding the courtroom. The atmosphere shifted. Every being present turned their gaze as a figure entered. Robed in white, crowned with glory, His presence filled the room.
Jesus.
He stepped between me and the Accuser. With authority that made the heavens shake, He raised His nail scarred hands and spoke:
“Father, this one is Mine. Her debt has been paid, in full. These charges cannot stand. She is covered by My blood, sealed by My Spirit, and justified by My sacrifice.”
The Accuser fell silent. The scales lifted. My file vanished.
The Judge leaned forward, His face radiant with mercy. “Not guilty. Redeemed. Beloved. Free.”
The gavel struck, but this time, it was not condemnation. It was freedom. The case was closed. Forever.
In that moment, the courtroom dissolved into glory. A great voice echoed from the throne:
“Behold, the dwelling place of God is with His people. He will dwell with them, and they will be His. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death shall be no more. Neither shall there be mourning, or crying, or pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
And then He came near. The King of kings, my Saviour, placed His hand upon my face. His touch was tender, His love endless.
And He wiped away every tear.
The Judgement
As I lay with all of my loved ones around me, I had a sense of peace. And then, before I knew it, I was standing in a long line.
I couldn’t see what was happening up ahead, but I could hear cries for mercy, the sound of anguish, and now and then, a sudden flash of light that made the air tremble.
The line moved slowly forward, each soul waiting their turn. When I finally reached the front, I could see what was happening. A well dressed woman stepped forward, her file placed upon the scales. The folder was thin. She had the look of someone who had lived a respectable life. But when the verdict came, the word struck the air like fire:
“Guilty.”
She wept bitterly as they led her away. “But I was a good person! I didn’t steal or lie! I gave to charity! I went to church sometimes! I did good things, you’ve made a mistake!”
Yet no one moved. No one spoke. Her cries faded into the distance.
Next, a man stood before the court. His file was placed on the scales. Again, it did not measure up. He too protested, declaring his innocence, insisting on all the good things he had done. But the verdict was the same. He too was led away.
And then, it was my turn.
The angels lifted my file, and my heart sank in horror. It was enormous, far larger than those before me. Page after page of failure, sin, shame, rebellion. I wanted to run, to hide, but there was nowhere to go. The scales groaned under the weight as my book was dropped upon them, tipping hard, dragging everything downward.
The Accuser stepped forward, his voice sharp and cruel. He read the charges out loud, every lie, every betrayal, every wound I had caused, every dark secret I thought no one knew. Each word pierced me like a blade. I could not deny a single one.
Tears blurred my vision. I had nothing to say. No excuse to offer. No defence to make. The verdict was about to be spoken. I was guilty, and I knew it.
But then, a light.
At first, faint, then brilliant, flooding the courtroom. The atmosphere shifted. Every being present turned their gaze as a figure entered. Robed in white, crowned with glory, His presence filled the room.
Jesus.
He stepped between me and the Accuser. With authority that made the heavens shake, He raised His nail scarred hands and spoke:
“Father, this one is Mine. Her debt has been paid, in full. These charges cannot stand. She is covered by My blood, sealed by My Spirit, and justified by My sacrifice.”
The Accuser fell silent. The scales lifted. My file vanished.
The Judge leaned forward, His face radiant with mercy. “Not guilty. Redeemed. Beloved. Free.”
The gavel struck, but this time, it was not condemnation. It was freedom. The case was closed. Forever.
In that moment, the courtroom dissolved into glory. A great voice echoed from the throne:
“Behold, the dwelling place of God is with His people. He will dwell with them, and they will be His. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death shall be no more. Neither shall there be mourning, or crying, or pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
And then He came near. The King of kings, my Saviour, placed His hand upon my face. His touch was tender, His love endless.
And He wiped away every tear.
Short Story
The Judgement
As I lay with all of my loved ones around me, I had a sense of peace. And then, before I knew it, I was standing in a long line.
I couldn’t see what was happening up ahead, but I could hear cries for mercy, the sound of anguish, and now and then, a sudden flash of light that made the air tremble.
The line moved slowly forward, each soul waiting their turn. When I finally reached the front, I could see what was happening. A well dressed woman stepped forward, her file placed upon the scales. The folder was thin. She had the look of someone who had lived a respectable life. But when the verdict came, the word struck the air like fire:
“Guilty.”
She wept bitterly as they led her away. “But I was a good person! I didn’t steal or lie! I gave to charity! I went to church sometimes! I did good things, you’ve made a mistake!”
Yet no one moved. No one spoke. Her cries faded into the distance.
Next, a man stood before the court. His file was placed on the scales. Again, it did not measure up. He too protested, declaring his innocence, insisting on all the good things he had done. But the verdict was the same. He too was led away.
And then, it was my turn.
The angels lifted my file, and my heart sank in horror. It was enormous, far larger than those before me. Page after page of failure, sin, shame, rebellion. I wanted to run, to hide, but there was nowhere to go. The scales groaned under the weight as my book was dropped upon them, tipping hard, dragging everything downward.
The Accuser stepped forward, his voice sharp and cruel. He read the charges out loud, every lie, every betrayal, every wound I had caused, every dark secret I thought no one knew. Each word pierced me like a blade. I could not deny a single one.
Tears blurred my vision. I had nothing to say. No excuse to offer. No defence to make. The verdict was about to be spoken. I was guilty, and I knew it.
But then, a light.
At first, faint, then brilliant, flooding the courtroom. The atmosphere shifted. Every being present turned their gaze as a figure entered. Robed in white, crowned with glory, His presence filled the room.
Jesus.
He stepped between me and the Accuser. With authority that made the heavens shake, He raised His nail scarred hands and spoke:
“Father, this one is Mine. Her debt has been paid, in full. These charges cannot stand. She is covered by My blood, sealed by My Spirit, and justified by My sacrifice.”
The Accuser fell silent. The scales lifted. My file vanished.
The Judge leaned forward, His face radiant with mercy. “Not guilty. Redeemed. Beloved. Free.”
The gavel struck, but this time, it was not condemnation. It was freedom. The case was closed. Forever.
In that moment, the courtroom dissolved into glory. A great voice echoed from the throne:
“Behold, the dwelling place of God is with His people. He will dwell with them, and they will be His. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death shall be no more. Neither shall there be mourning, or crying, or pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
And then He came near. The King of kings, my Saviour, placed His hand upon my face. His touch was tender, His love endless.
And He wiped away every tear.
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