judged

With just a few days left it the year, I find myself thinking about good intentions. There were a lot of things I meant to do in 2018. Don’t get me wrong; it was a good year, and I have a couple of significant accomplishments I notched this year. But I’m not any healthier than I was a year ago, and I didn’t invest in relationships the way I wanted to.

Still, because I had those intentions, I see myself as a person who values good health and healthy relationships. But I’m nagged by the feeling that I’m defined mostly by what I do.

There’s not much comfort in my devotions this morning, either. Look at this, from Revelation 20:11-13: “Then I saw a great white throne and him who was seated on it. The earth and the heavens fled from his presence, and there was no place for them. And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Another book was opened, which is the book of life. The dead were judged according to what they had done as recorded in the books. The sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them, and each person was judged according to what they had done.”

I don’t want to be judged according to what I’ve done, I want to be judged by what I intended to do. Intentions show the heart, don’t they? But in the end, I guess deeds demonstrate priorities. Saying “I didn’t have time,” is just another way of saying, “It wasn’t as high a priority as the things I spent my time on.”

Thank God, I won’t actually be judged by what I’ve done, except for one thing: I put my hope in Jesus. That means when the book is opened, God won’t seen any of my deeds recorded there; all the words will be blotted out, covered by bloody stains from cross-driven nails. 

It’s a grim thought for Christmas, but still very appropriate. Baby Jesus, as noted by our pastor yesterday, was named Messiah by the angels on the day of his birth. He walked every step of his life knowing exactly how he would die for us.

And he did it anyway. What a Savior.