Once, a few years ago, I heard a motivational speaker. She talked a bit about some things, a little about others, and a lot about nothing. I walked away from her hour-long speech frustrated. She had the attention of thousands that day, if not millions, and she had said nothing worth hearing. What would I say, I wondered, if I had the attention of a million people? Therefore, this blog represents the little-bit-of-some-things, the-pieces-of-others, and the hopefully-not-a-whole-lot-of-nothings I would say to a million people given the chance:
The clock couldn't have moved any slower. Rahab, picking at her already-chipped blue nail-polish, hummed along with every passing second. She hummed the tune her audience had been chanting as she was led to the courtroom that morning.
Guilty! Guilty!
She will hang!
As disturbing as this cry might seem to an average listener, Rahab didn't particularly mind. They were right. Even she could not dispute her guilt. Her lawyer had not even bothered to call other witnesses, or to examine those brought forth by the accuser. Everyone knew she was going to hang.
Faced with this grim truth, Rahab focused on her nail-polish, barely hearing the accuser's screaming threats.
"...She simply doesn't deserve to live, Your Honor! You see before You indisputable evidence of this woman's guilt. See how she..."
It was funny, really. He was very determined, and his nose was turning very red with his excitement. It was funny how he had not told her what was offensive prior to her being arrested.
The Judge sighed. "Well, Child. It appears I have no choice. I cannot acquit you."
"Objection." A voice spoke from the back of the courtroom--a voice she knew well, but had often mocked. It was the one voice who had dared call her a sinner, the one who had presented her with the truth no one else knew. He had once been her friend, but because of his dislike of her lifestyle, she had grown to hate him. She hated his brown, concerned eyes and his easy smile. She hated everything about him.
"Your Honor, it is too late. This woman is not guilty. I have proof." He held out his hands, covered almost completely in bloody scabs. "Five witnesses. She owes no debt to anyone but me."
The face of the Judge softened. "My son...Do you wish to pardon her?"
"She is innocent."
The accuser began to stammer out protests. But even he could not deny the validity of the scars. Her friend had already suffered her punishment. As her Redeemer, he now owned her life. And if her set her free, no one could imprison her again.
The Judge smiled. "This woman is innocent. She must and shall go free."
For a second, Rahab could do nothing more than stare at the young man, once so ugly and hateful to her. Like a caged bird faced with an open door, she at first did not leave the accused's box. When she finally stood to go, she heard her Redeemer's voice call her.
"Rahab. You are not free."
"What?"
"You belong to me now."
Feeling the weight upon her shoulders, she realized she had escaped one slavery for another. She belonged to her Redeemer now.
Her head fell. Studying her face, he lifted her chin and smiled at her. "Beautiful Rahab. You're finally mine. Marry me."
Swept with relief, Rahab nodded. And nodded. And smiled.
And as they left the courtroom, the people sang a different chant.
Should the Law against her roar,
Jesus' blood still speaks with power:
"All her debts were cast on Me.
So she must and shall go free." **
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