The Great Wedding

This is something I saw during worship Wednesday night. It’s a long vision, but it’s SO GOOD!

In it, I saw myself as the bride and Jesus as the groom. I was getting ready for the wedding, in the most beautiful dress you can imagine, my hair done in the most perfect way, my joy and smile infectious as I’m so excited to meet my husband.

I start to walk down the aisle, but I can’t contain myself when I see him, standing there in a pure white suit as clean as his heart, and I run for him. And he’s just as excited to see me.

The ceremony is spent gazing into each other’s eyes, and it seems to fly by. We had written our own vows to one another, because tradition can’t contain a love like ours.

But when the crowd was asked if there were any objections, a man stood and yelled, “She’s not worthy! She’s broken the law and deserves death!”

Shame and fear flash through me, because I know he is speaking the truth. I had tried my best to be a worthy bride for my perfect soon-to-be husband, but it wasn’t enough, and now I would pay the price.

But Jesus steps in front of me. “She will be my perfect bride. I will take her place.”

A wicked grin crosses my accuser’s face and, so fast I can barely register it, the crowd of people, who had cheered for us earlier, were now rushing Jesus, beating him, tearing his clothes, and dragging him to a cross.

When the nails pierce his hands, it’s like they’re piercing my heart, and as I watch him hang there, feeling each labored breath like it’s my own, my accuser comes up behind me and whispers in my ear, “He may have taken your place this time, but he can only save you once. Next time, you’re mine.”

Then Jesus cries out and dies, and I flee the scene, knowing what my accuser said was true. He died for my sin, but what would happen when I sinned again?

I lock myself in a filthy apartment, dress ripped and muddy, hair tangled beyond recognition, face red and puffy from my tears. I’m there for 3 days, not eating or drinking, before the door opens.

I turn to see Jesus walking towards me, beaming like he had won the world. If he looked perfect before, it was nothing to how he looked now. His suit was just as white and pure as before, except now his bow tie was as red as blood. Even the scars in his hands and feet were a thing of beauty, rather than pain. The first words out of his mouth are the words of his vow to me.

More than anything, I want to embrace him. I want to reaffirm my own vows to him, but how could I? I, whose sin had gotten him killed? I, who would never be perfect enough to deserve him? I, who had broken the law a hundred times and would continue to do so a hundred more?

Tears stream down my face as my heart and my mind battle, but Jesus knows my heart as no one else can. He crosses the room without hesitation and holds me as I weep. He won’t make me marry him, he’s too much of a gentleman for that, but there’s nothing to stop him from telling of his own love for me.

“You were once bound to the law, but now the law of death, the consequence to all who break the law, has been broken. The only law that now exists is the law of love. Love, which is why I took your place. Love, which is so much stronger than death and punishment. Love, which is the name I give you now.”

I break completely and cling to him as I would cling to life, expressing my own gratitude and love, knowing it could never match his, but no longer feeling ashamed about it. Now that I knew how deep love could go, it inspired me to pursue it ever more deeply.

We say our vows and become husband and wife, but that’s not the end of the story. He gives me new clothes, as clean as his. He brushes out my hair, taking his time because there can never be a rush. And he washes my face with all the tenderness in his nature.

When I am as pure as the beginning of our wedding, he leaves, telling me. “I go to prepare a place for you. Don’t leave this room, for this is where I will come again. Your accuser is still here, but he has no power. Bring as many people as you can into this room. And remember, you can call me whenever you want to talk.”

As the years wear on, my clinging to this knowledge never fades, although the feelings I have towards Jesus swings as wildly as a pendulum. There are times when I go months without calling him, and times where I call him every 5 minutes, sometimes just to say “I love you”.

I call other people in the apartment, never leaving my room, but using my phone, trying my best to get them to come inside and experience the protection of this place. Some people listen, and they also exchange their rags for robes of righteousness. A few people listen at first, but soon get bored of waiting and drift away. But too many people refuse to step foot in the room, and in their voices I hear my accuser trying to get inside my head once more.

But I am the bride of the one who was slain, and there is nothing he can do to me. And the day my husband comes back, he takes everyone currently in the room out. We’re so lost in the wonder of this new world, that when the apartment behind us collapses, we scarcely notice. All I can do is gaze at the beauty of Jesus, and be so thankful for the day he chose me, rescued me, and loved me, deeper than I’d ever known before.