A Robe of Righteousness.

I woke up that morning as if the light had been turned on in my heart. I could think of nothing else to do, except come down stairs, and write. And so I did. I had been asking God for the longest time, how to walk the situation out. Often silence seemed to reflect back at me. Sure He'd spoken to me many times. But the things He'd shown me, I couldnt marry up to how the circumstances were. On that morning, I saw myself, walking into the same situation as per always. With self raised courage and a stomach in knots. Only, I noticed something that I hadnt noticed before.... I was wearing a grey blanket. Like those old boy scouts army one. A sort of survivor emblem. There were no badges on mine. It was just grey, and blah. Scratchy even. I looked at her, who was me. I mused quietly "what an ugly colour, you never looked good in grey". And then I just as quickly reprimanded myself. "You should be thankful for that grey blanket, it was an offer of grace". Anger flashed a little in her eyes as she pulled the grey blanket closer. Everything in her wanted to shed it, wanted to cry out "you can have your blanket back".. but she didnt know how she'd come to obtain it. How did it become hers? She vaguely recalled some scrawny, skinny, life stripped arms - handing it to her accusingly as if to say "naked isnt any good isnt it?". She whinced to remember. Yes, she had been naked. She'd been raw and real as she knew. She'd tried with everything in her, to walk over the bridge and see it from the other side. She wasnt prepared for how they would simply stand there and mock her nakedness. No, not with words. Just insinuations and cutting her off. She struggled not to wonder how it was that she had felt so pursued, so valued, so known, only to then feel so discarded. Perhaps she deserved it. Perhaps it was just her naivity. Probably both. No one had really come along side her to say they knew different. They didnt. And so that day, some 'thing', anaemic and pathetic, had given her this grey blanket "Is this yours?". She didnt lift her head enough to notice who he was, she just accepted it, "I think it is". ... If she'd paused long enough, she would have noticed the words "shame" branded imprudently across it. She knew later they were there. But she'd tried to pretty them up a bit. Turn them into something good, embroider some hope, some joy, something a bit more her colour onto them. I mused to her; "familiarity is a strange comfort". She shrugged a little and then answered defensively; "I have more sympathy for others who were grey blankets too". That she did. I couldnt help but notice how something in her however was agitated. She kept glancing at others in grey blankets with a look like she wanted to yank theirs off them too. Like she knew something, that she knew a truth that was beyond the dull shade of lifeless grey... And then I noticed something. A little room to the side, where all the chairs usually stacked, was a door a little ajar.... She walked in a looked around. There it was, that white robe. It was a stark contrast to her grey one. She'd already seen it and tried it on a few times. Once when she was in the middle of worship, God had draped it over her. She had felt pure and valued, washed of the insinuation and shame she was carrying. And there was that robe again. Hanging up on its hook. It had her name embroidered on it. Only it wasnt her name. It was a new name. Something that meant "Fearless". She walked over to Him in the dressing room and He draped it over her once more. She twirled a little in it, enjoying how it felt under her shoulders, the way it reflected His love for her. Its price was high. She knew it was a gift. She could never afford it, or pay Him back for it. She looked at herself in the mirror and how free her countenance became in it. She met His eyes in the mirror. His look spoke more than can be passed in words. An affection. A knowing. A truth. A freedom. A love that measured more than all the accusations in the world put together. She lowered her head and gently slipped the robe off her. Handing it to Him she quietly said "thank you". "Its yours to wear" He nudged her. Her foot already in the door to exit, she turned back "I know, but I dont know how to wear it out there". He nodded. And her heart sunk as she felt for a moment that He might let her go. She turned to go and He whispered "Hey Fleur!"... "yes Lord?"... "why dont you stay in here with me and wear it for a while till you get the courage to walk out in it?" She blinked back the tears "Id like that", as His tender arms wrapped around her weary shoulders. "Id like that". Her husband stood beside her in the room. She hadnt noticed him come in. His shoulders braced up a little in protection and admiration and she giggled a little. She whispered to him "thank you for standing beside me". He always had. How wonderful he had been. She leaned against him and noticed something... ... a little like courage... Psalm 34:5 Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame.