Bearing the Weight of Ten Thousand Sins

If I began this post with the words penal substitution, I'd lose half of you by the end of this sentence. Have I lost you?

If I have, that's okay, I'll talk to the rest of you.

The past few weeks I've been thinking of how easy it is for me to bear the weight of the sin of others. I feel it. It weighs me down. It drives me to my knees and to tears. The affects of it, and the effects of it, bear down on me, threatening to steal my peace, my joy, my hope, and my confidence. I feel the wrath of God, the just-ness of God in the face of sin. I tend toward mercy, but tremble under others' justice. My propensity is toward grace, but I see righteousness and holiness as endeavors worth pursuing.

But what happens when I can't bear the weight of your sin? When your unrighteousness soils my peace and your depravity wrecks my rest?

This whole week, as it makes national news, the refrain of In Christ Alone repeats in my head:

'Til on that cross as Jesus died The wrath of God was satisfied For every sin on Him was laid Here in the death of Christ I live

For those of you left, I haven't got much to say, save this:

I cannot bear the weight of anything, not my sin or yours. I cannot satisfy the demand of a Holy God or even a demanding god. I cannot satisfy my idols or my cravings, my friends or their needs, my dreams or my desires. Christ alone can, and did. And He bears the weight of it on fully capable shoulders.

Selah.