Fiction

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I’m on trial today, without hope. The Accuser clutches damning documents, all of them true.
The presiding Judge issues eternal verdicts.
My tender-eyed Advocate clutches no documents, only one book. Under his coat, I think I see a scar.
The gavel falls. Court is now in session.
The arrogant Accuser stands. “Your Honor, in the Case of Mary Sue Beamer versus Your Holy Law, I will prove her guilt. Therefore, I desire a righteous, guilty verdict against her.”
My Advocate requests leave of an opening argument. Will he defend me, or is the evidence too damning? I lower my head in despair.
“Very well, Accuser. Call your first witness,” the Judge proclaims.
My gut tightens. Each grueling testimony hammers another nail in my coffin. The Advocate never cross-examines. Perhaps he, too, knows the truth.
The Prosecutor calls his final witness: Me. Knees knocking, I stagger to the stand. I take my oath, fearing imminent doom.
As I tell the truth, the Accuser hammers the final nails in my coffin.
The Judge turns to the Advocate as before. Preparing to rise, I am shocked.
The Advocate walks toward me. Fear grabs me. Then peace, until his first question.
“Miss Beamer, you have heard these accusations against you. Therefore, I ask you, have you committed these sins? Are these accusations true?”
My gut flares. “Yes, Sir. I have. They are all true.” My lips quiver. I bury my head in shame.
“I see.” At his table, he removes his coat.
Facing the Judge, He rolls up his sleeves. Lifting my head slightly, I see his nail-scarred wrists. The Prosecutor squirms.
Wrists revealed, he approaches me.
I sob. I can’t help it. I didn’t expect what came next.
“Mary Sue Beamer, you’ve confessed your sins. Now I must ask you this.” His locomotive eyes speed toward my heart, bypassing my eyes. “What if someone else has paid the price for your sins? What if, though guilty, you can be acquitted and go free?”
“Sir, how?” I stutter.
The Prosecutor sweats.
“It is true. I have good news.” He enlightens me from the Scriptures about Himself. The Advocate is Jesus Christ. He tells me of salvation through faith in Him. He tells me his scarred wrists accepted those nails directed at my coffin. Then he asks me the question that bursts the coffin wide open. “Will you believe in Me and receive forgiveness of your sins by faith? Will you accept my sacrifice on your behalf?”
I bawl. The thought of such love overwhelms me.
“Oh, yes, Jesus,” I exclaim. “I believe in You. I desire forgiveness of my sins. I want to be clean.” I bow my head.
He lifts my head, smiling. “Your faith saves you.”
Niagara Falls pours over me. For the first time ever, I am clean. Truly clean.
The Advocate presents his scars to the Judge. “Your Honor, You have heard her confessions. Therefore, as the price for her sins has been paid by My blood, I request an acquittal of all charges.”
The Judge slams His gavel. “In the Case of Mary Sue Beamer versus the Holy Law, she is acquitted and justified by the blood of Jesus. Miss Beamer, you are free.”
I sink, ecstatic and clean. I feel free. Really free.
The Prosecutor slams his briefcase on the table. His disgust seems rehearsed. How many times before has this trial occurred? How many more trials are forthcoming? Will others find the cleansing I did? Oh, I hope they will.

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