The Peg Wall

 I was revisiting my old sins scrupulously one day—all the ugly things I had done, the ways I had been disobedient. “How nice,” I thought, “if I could see exactly which sins were covered and which ones I needed to pray about a little more.”

 Almost immediately an image came to my mind. I envisioned a big wall covered with wooden pegs. Every peg stood for a wrong I had done. The “little sins” were hardly more than a bump on the wall. But there were some pegs that stood out two or three inches, and I knew those must be horrible sins.

 From the top of the wall ran a thin sheet of blood. In a steady flow, it trickled down the wall. The little pegs were obscured completely, but the larger ones stuck out too far to be covered. The result of this picture was panic and fear. There was nothing I could do about the larger pegs. There they were, unforgiving and unforgiven, taunting me with the bad choices I had made.

 Suddenly, God spoke to me. “That’s not how it is,” He said.

 The picture continued to play out in my mind. The wall of pegs remained the same, with some large and some small. But the stream of blood became, in my mind’s eye, a gushing river. It poured down the wall in one great torrent. In amazement I saw that it covered every peg. Both the small bumps and the large ones disappeared. The river was so abundant I could no longer say which pegs were which.

 I have held this picture close to my heart. When I am tempted to go back to my old sins, digging up the buried things of the past, I am reminded that they are forgiven. They are hidden under the blood.

 I think Mary Magdalene had a moment like this at the tomb on Easter morning. As she peered into the sepulcher and saw her Lord was missing, the awfulness of the moment must have overwhelmed her. She ran to tell the others. Peter confirmed her fears: the body of her Lord was missing. What answer was there, but that it had been stolen?

 As long as she had been near Him, the seven devils from which she had been freed did not torment her. But would they come back? Now that He was gone, what was there worth living for?

 Left alone weeping near the tomb, she looked inside once more. This time she saw two shining figures inside. “Woman, why weepest thou?” they asked. (John 20:13) “Why seek ye the living among the dead?” (Luke 24:5b)

 Brokenly, hope gone, she answered, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid him.”

 We know the story. The agony as she turned away and stumbled, half blinded by tears, through the garden.

 The man whom she thought in her grief was the gardener.

 The gentle voice, “Mary.”

 The cry of recognition, of wonder, of pure joy, “Master!”

 Like Mary, we linger by the tomb. In desperation we keep searching among the dead for one tiny ray of hope.

 What we need to do is step away from the tomb. Turn our eyes to the living God we serve. The God who promises us hope and a future.

 I don’t want to disregard journeying to the tomb. Not anymore than I wish to devalue kneeling at the cross. Both are essential parts of Christian life. But Jesus, once revealed to Mary, did not encourage her to stay at the tomb. Instead, he told her to “…go to my brethren…” (John 20:17)

 When our sins have been covered by blood, and our Lord is living inside of us, there is no benefit to us lingering and weeping in sorrow. This is not to say we will not reap what we have sown nor that we will not feel regret, but to continue in mourning for a sin that has been forgiven is to dishonor and disbelieve the true power of the Forgiver.

 2 Corinthians 5:17 says, “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.” 1 John 1:9 reminds us that, “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” Isaiah prophesied about the miracle of new birth and forgiveness in chapter 43, verse 25: “I, even I, am he that blotteth out thy transgressions for mine own sake, and will not remember thy sins.”

 And so it is my desire to move among the living. To hear my own name whispered by my Redeemer. To thank Him ever more for the blood that washed away my sins and gives me a hope and a future. And to remember while I visit the tomb, I need not stay there, for He has risen.

 Wishing each one a blessed Easter!