Who are you?

The little old woman with bent stick, greying hair and a single, sentimental earring. 

She swayed in the still air of the stuffy courtroom, adjusted her half-inch thick glasses, coughed ever so demurely, and then looked the judge firm in the eye as she spoke at last.

Like watching Susan Boyle in her maiden audition, the judge went from rolled eyes and “let’s get through this”, to instant admiration. 

She was old and worn - at the edges, in her gait and in her clothes, but not in her mind. 

Truth pierced the gloom like a sword. The warrior spoke.

The guffaws and shoulder nudges on the other side of the room, stopped, as fifteen tough, hardened gang members hung on each word and sighed. She was small, old and frail on the streets, but this was her turf and here she ruled. Did I tell you, she won!!!

Another approached the court of God with obsequious self-awareness and an apologetic tone, the language of the double-minded, to quote James.

A capable woman on the streets, a business owner respected through her years, but out of her depth over the trials of a wayward child. Her humility had merit, but her court-craft, not so much.

Before she finished her first sentence, her counter-party tore into her, working every legal gaffe or procedural error, to condemn her cause before she reached its substance. The judge, unable to take sides, did what he could but could not do support her evidence. She lost.

Another, having faced his own storms and the long, meandering journey of life, watched them come and go and turned to his friend to ask why?

The first knew the law, sure, but more than that she knew herself and she knew the system. The latter knew neither.

As God did to Jacob, the judge asks, “who are you?” It is true for everyone who takes the stand. 

“Who are you?” The man in the bible answered, “I am Jacob”, to which God could have softly sighed before replying, “I asked who are you, not what is your name”.

His name carried the connotations of “liar”, “cheat”, “usurper” and “thief”. That said nothing for who he was, it only described the labels that life had given him.

What God knew of the man who could single-handedly move a well-stone or wrestle an angel without yield, for a whole night, was that he was far more than the moniker earned.

“Who are you?” urged the judge. Jacob stopped panting, composed himself, wiped dust out of his eyes and sweat off his brow, before answering.

“I am a descendant of Abraham, born into promise, an heir to the covenant of God. I did not steal what my brother sold me, but I fought for my place in God’s unfolding mysteries and today I stand before you unmoved before the God of my fathers.”

To that the judge would have said, “you are worthy of the stand you now take  - so step up and be heard.” The real Jacob then asked what Moses effectively asked, “And who are you?”

The simple answer was “I am, who I am”. The fuller answer was, “I am the God of ages past and I am faithful to countless generations. Wherever you went after you found me at Bethel, I have been with you. I watched you rise, fall, stumble and go on, until you found what you missed”.

To that Jacob may have asked “what would that be?” “While you were bashing around between trying to work a deal with me and allowing yourself to be held hostage to the manipulations of your father-in-law, you found out for yourself who I am not. Now find out who I am”.

It took Jacob twenty years to get the memo, Moses forty years. I think I beat Moses. I am not sure how long my rope was or when God’s patience would wear out, but I do know I was somewhat thick skinned and errant. I needed to repeat a few years in my schooling.

The two friends found the second woman sitting in the shadows, weeping. Her hopes lay in tatters, but her soul was gutted. She cried out, “Oh God, where is your mercy and compassion? Are you who you are? Have you turned away from me or shut your ears to my cry?”

“Mam” said the older man, “David cried that, so don’t feel alone. However, you are asking an objective judge, who did everything He could to afford you justice, to abandon his bench and be subjective. To weigh your cause out of sentiment or empathy”.

“Why not?” she asked through tears”. “To be a judge at all He had to confirm His objectivity, as when He watched His son die for you without daring to intervene. All He could do was weigh up that sacrifice on objective terms and qualify it when it met every demand of the law”.

Through that He made a new way for you to approach Him. It passes through a torn veil to assure your right of access. It offers legal representation in the wounded advocate whose wounds plead your cause. He also provided a seat of petition that is stained with blood”.

“Why?” She asked. “So that you may know that your defense lies in what He did to ensure your right of access and to vindicate your cause based on a righteousness that does not vest in your works but in the price He paid for you, and which was duly accepted on your behalf”.

She eventually dried her tears as truth dawned, then asked, “what then should I now do?”

Shortly after that the two friends saw her rise again before the judge. “Who are you?” asked the judge impassively? 

“I am a child of God, born of incorruptible seed, redeemed through the shed blood of the lamb of God, whose presence here guarantees my rights to a hearing and to justice. I once was lost, but now am found and now stand before you in His righteousness”.

“Why do you approach this court?” asked the judge, implying, “and who do you think I am?”

“From ages past you crafted a plan of salvation, and sent the son who was slain from the foundations of the earth, to fight our cause before you as a man, not as God.”

In her heart she whispered, “You are who you are, my God, you are who you are”.

She continued, “You looked, saw His travail and were satisfied. Your court, though righteously objective, saw that justice was served and that every demand of righteousness was fully met. I stand before that righteous judge”.

The accuser stood, wide-eyed, scouring his mind for counter-arguments. He tried, probed, tested, but although she remained vulnerable, she remained resolute. She would not move. She lifted her head and defied his objections with consummate skill.

Were her prayers heard and answered? You tell me. Would yours be if she was you? I guess you already know the answer. 

(c) Peter Missing: bethelstone@gmail.com