the gift exchange

Is that really
What the Atonement of Jesus Christ is?
Instead of carrying around
My own box of sins
Of rocks, guilt, literal trash –
Trash because I don’t need it.
He says,
“Here, let me take that for you.”
No wonder then
That it’s hard for me to believe.
It makes sense that I’m hesitant.
That it gives me reason to pause.

Does Jesus really want
All of the worst things
I’ve ever thought and said and done?
The parts of me that
Carry so much shame.
When He says it
Does He really mean it?
Does He?

Does He really know
What is in this box of mine?
Did he already know
Back then
In Gethsemane?
But did He, really?
And He still wants it?

If I was hiking
And someone said to me
“Here, give me your backpack.
I’ll carry it for you.”
Even that would give me
Reason to pause.

I would assess:
Can he afford to carry more?
How much is he already carrying?
Is he sincere in his offer?

I would pause
And do some quick math
In my head:
How do I measure the ratio
Of guilt to gratitude?
Guilt that he would have to carry more
Because of me
Vs. gratitude that I’d be carrying less?
Would it be worth it then?
Is that even fair?

My first reaction would be
“No I can do it.”
I would reason
He’s already carrying so much
And it’s causing him to sweat –
Or is that blood?
From every pore.
No I’ll definitely carry it myself.
I don’t want to be an imposition.
A burden.

It feels like
A lopsided gift exchange.
He gives me
Everything I wanted most
Eternal life and exaltation
Beauty and joy and love.
Wrapped in exquisite paper
With an intricate bow.
What a gift!

And in exchange
He wants….my sins?
But they are so ugly and sad and hateful.
Why would anyone want these?
In exchange for that?
I didn’t even wrap it.
I just shoved them
Into a box
In the back of a closet
Hoping no one would ever see them.
Much less ask me
To hand them over.

No wonder I’m confused.
If it was anyone else
Who had asked me for it,
I would question
Are you in your right mind?
Do you even know what’s inside?
It’s difficult to comprehend.
Maybe even impossible
For my mortal mind.

Another impossible concept
That eludes me
Is the reality of
His love for me.
Impossible to grasp
How deep
How vast
How eternal
How transformative
For it truly knows
No bounds.

But that’s the only explanation
That makes any sense.
The only reason why He would pay
Such a dear price
Every last blood-soaked cent
So I would give him my box.
Because although He is being polite
And asking me for it,
He won’t use force
He only invites
Even though
He already paid for it.

And now all that is left
For me to do
Is to find the courage
To hand it over
Through my tears
And release my clenched fingers.
Because for some reason
I’m clinging to that box.
And to trust
That he really can
Do what He says.
Which is
Take my box
Of ugly
smelly
rotting
sins
And then give me something
beautiful
fragrant
and flourishing.

I still don’t fully understand it.
How does He do it?
How does He do something
That He alone
Even God
Could do.
A miracle.

Despite all of my
Lack of understanding
I am grateful
Happiness doubled by wonder (1)
That He loves me as much as He says.
And I can trust Him
That He will really do it.
That He can do impossible things.
Like He has before
When He created a world
And when He overcame death.

So because of Him
I can choose to put aside
My incomprehension
And my reservations
And my shame.
I can choose to hand it over to Him
When He outstretches His arm
And responds to my protests,
“No really, I want it.
Give it to me.
Trust me.
And in return
Here is my gift to you.”
Because He can turn
My sins
And my very being
Into something better
That I can’t even imagine
Because He loves me that much.