Where Are Your Accusers?

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We know the story. What is Jesus writing in stone? Yes, it was stone not dirt. A new commandment He gave and we  can fulfill the ten if we obey the one. If you love, you won’t want to steal or kill or commit adultery. Everyone faces temptations but with Him we overcome. Only the horrid death of a crucified Savior and His tender mercies, love and forgiveness could swallow up sin, shame and even death, hell, itself. I’m forever indebted to that love, but owe Him nothing, for asks only for my love and to let Him love me.

I don’t like being accused. I don’t like the devil trying to poke his nose in, always reminding me of some shortcoming. And Romans 3:23, that we have  all sinned and come short of His glory, didn’t help when preached in redundacy. Rededicate your life, how many times I walked to the altar? How many times would I have to? Only one, I was saved. He gives eternal life. I used to cry and beg the Holy Spirit not to leave me, even knowing, I will never leave you nor forsake you.

Hearing about grace made me happy to know He wasn’t the one reminding me of something I did wrong. I knew He forgave, knew the verse about east to west. And yet, my prayers weren’t answered or were they? The devil is quick with accusations, so that he can deceive and delay, and disappoint. I’m always amazed that he takes on a fervor in the tongues of others, even believers.

They’re always ready to cast stones, aren’t they? Something must be wrong with you. Some hidden sin. Something you didn’t repent of.  Haven’t they ever been in spiritual warfare? Never been in a battle, a battle to hold onto faith? Are they the first to pick a stone, or the last to walk away and toss it to the ground? Does it take Jesus writing on their heart of stone to stop them from hurling accusations?

I’m being truthful, I defend myself too often. I let it get to me, if I know something is wrong. I feel like I can explain it. It never matters to someone who doesn’t get it, Christian or not. God is my refuge, my fortress, my shield. He surrounds me, He endwells me. He is zealous for me.  Why can’t I remember that when the accuser pops up?

I want to speak out or hide in a corner sometimes. I catch myself and try to walk away. I catch my breath before getting angry. “It’s not true.”  ” That’s not so! ” ” You’ve got it all wrong! ” And I have had my moments, admittedly. Why can’t others see Jesus the way I do? He wasn’t afraid to call it like He saw it. He cleansed the temple. Why do some people find the truth offensive? They’re ready to accept the sinners and kick the Christians.

We are taught to preach the Word in season and out. Even those who are not ministers but serve have a duty to denounce sin. But we have no right to hurl stones at the ones who are trying to help. I have heard insults to Christians a lot worse than me saying someone should leave witchcraft alone. Jacob’s well was filled with stones by an enemy, it’s the same well that Jesus sat on talking to the woman at the well. Its the same place where living waters springs from.

There is a point here. Let Jesus sit on your well if has been clogged by an enemy, let Him redig it and give you living water. Jesus, the cornerstone rejected by the builders, the rock of my salvation, who is higher than I. Jesus whose glory rolled away a stone from the tomb, Jesus, who was swaddled in a stone manger, sits upon the well of your soul to give you living water and make it well wtih your soul. The rock of ages that is cleft for me invites me to come with Him.

He deems me innocent in the prescence of my enemies, He’s my Defender and Advocate. He will arise and let His enemies be scattered. I need not worry, I need not fear. He is with me, my Shepherd, resting at the gate of the stone corral where He keeps the sheep. No matter the enemies that gather, no matter what the devil throws, I have overcome because He has.

Though I walk away from arguments, there are some that pursue. I am not offended, nor afraid. Even if I want to cower at the prospected of being stoned with insults, accusations or even lies. I’m innocent, because the Truth knows me, and offers His hand, ” Becky, where are your accusers? ” I can safely look around and answer,  ” Lord, I have none. ” Rebecca Jones

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