Just Imagine

Imagine. Just imagine that you were in a car accident that was your fault and those in the other car were killed as a result. Your actions were not intentional: the other car was in your blind spot.  When you changed lanes, your car hit the front end of the other causing it to spin off the road into an embankment, flip and land in a river. The young couple in the front seat were killed hitting the embankment. Their children, all three, could not escape the car and drowned.

What a horrible, horrible tragedy! Of course you stopped your car immediately and ran to the river with the intent of jumping in to help anyone trapped in the car, but it sank too quickly and your ability to swim limited. You looked on aghast from the shore, feeling horror, guilt and shame.

Minutes later, police arrived. They examined the scene, spoke with the several witness that stopped by the busy road, looked at the damage to your car and then began to question you. Though in shock, you answered their questions to the best of your ability. You were honest, forthright and contrite. As rescue crews prepared to leave, the car secured to a wrecker and the coroner’s van ready to transport the victims, a policeman began to read you your rights,

What? It was an ACCIDENT you exclaim! As your rights continue to be read, it is as if the officers are deaf to your claims of innocence. You are shackled in handcuffs just as the office asks, “Do you understand these rights?” You nod, as words escape you. The charge sticks in your mind, swirling round and round: five counts of Vehicular Manslaughter. The only response you can force yourself to say is, “It was an accident!” No one listens as you are placed into the back of a squad car.

At the precinct you are finger-printed, photographed, interrogated, and placed in a cell. The only sensible thing you did during the interrogation was request an attorney. Waiting seemed like forever until your attorney arrived. The particulars of the accident were discussed again in detail. Questions were asked again and again, each time you relived the horror of the scene. You could not escape your guilt, but you muttered once more, “It was an accident.” Lives were lost, families destroyed, loved ones shattered, children’s futures ripped away in a moment, because of an accident. Your attorney ended the session abruptly telling you your only hope to escape time in prison would be a plea bargain. You refused, again saying, “It was an accident.”

Once again, your wait behind bars feels like months. At long  last, a court date is set and you appear before the judge, “How do you plea?” he asks. Against your attorney’s advice, you say, “Not guilty.” A trial date is set and you are returned to your prison cell to wait. Your mind goes over and over the terrible accident. You didn’t see them. It was an accident. You pulled over, that’s all. Who could have expected the horror that ensued? You cannot escape what you witnessed. You cannot stop the mental replay. You hear the initial crash between your car and theirs and you see their car careening off the road. The weight of it pulls on your mind and heart. You are literally tormented. At long last, your role in it, your inescapable role in the deaths of 5 sinks in. You reach the point of no escape and you find yourself the initiator of the tragedy. Finally, the word comes to your mind: guilty.

Entering the courtroom you tell your attorney you want to change your plea. Denying any intentional wrong, you accept your actions that led to the accident. The attorney advises the judge of your desires, and he looks to you again and asks, “How do you plea?” “Guilty,” you respond, with your head hung down. Then again, you speak, “Guilty as charged.”

This scenario is very long, but the point it is trying to make is this: we do not see our guilt before a holy and righteous God. Our sins before Him we see as accidents. We condone them in our minds because we had no intent to commit them. It just happened. It was required by circumstances, or not really as it seems, or just a little thing, or everyone does it. Any affront against the laws of God is an unintentional accident. But, we are inescapably guilty, and that includes all of us. We are complicit in every sin. We are, on every point of the law of God, lawbreakers without excuse: guilty as charged.

Return to the courtroom for a moment. Your guilty plea is recorded and the judge dismisses the jury. He stands, removes his robes, and joins you in the docket. Standing beside you, he pronounces his verdict: Guilty on all charges. I sentence myself to five years in prison. The defendant is free to go. Your shock and amazement leaves you speechless. Though guilty, another has taken your place and will bear the penalty for your guilt. You look to the judge and ask why, to be told he is a relative who has loved your family deeply though separated by distance and years.

Sound somewhat familiar? It is what Jesus Christ has done for us. Our guilt in breaking the laws of God is without doubt, excuse, or escape. Intentions don’t matter, but if they did, we would find ourselves rebels against the King of the Heavens, intent on raising ourselves above His throne. We are guilty under penalty of eternal damnation. Yet, because of love, the Son of God stepped down from heaven and took our place, bore our sins, and took on Himself our just penalty of death. Why did He do this? 

He did it for love’s sake. Recall that man was intentionally made in His image, and man alone was animated by the breath of God. Though sin has separated us from Him by distance and years, He continued to love us and He demonstrated it on Calvary. The defendant is free to go, free to be reunited in communion with his Creator, for eternity. Not of his own works or merit, but because another took the full penalty of our guilt. The defendant is free to go, Imagine that for a moment.

Blessings.