Honour. It’s something we value but don’t often apply. We like being honoured. And sometimes we bestow it on those we deem worthy.
Mostly though, we reserve it in the back of our Godrej cupboards, afraid we’ll run out of the precious commodity if we’re too generous.
It’s the one thing I have always found in Jesus’ eyes. When I’ve felt absolutely ashamed of my own messes, when I’ve felt enraged by others’ offenses, when I’ve felt overwhelmed by the wickedness in this world, that divine nobility has always gazed back into my eyes.
“I know. I paid for this too. I gave away the most precious thing. The only thing that could be worthy to redeem your life. To redeem all the wickedness in all this world. My own life. A life built on honour, on truth, on righteousness, poured out on a world of filth, spilled out for anyone to take and apply onto their wounds of depravity.”
His eyes restore honour. To the most shameful mistakes. To our greatest failures. To our saddest losses.
He doesn’t deny the pain or ignore the darkness. He simply gazes into it, with the fierce and unbreakable reality of His sacrifice.
“This is what I have done. It is finished. There’s nothing you can do to reverse it. I have bought back your honour. I have paid with what is priceless to make you priceless.”
O wearer of the honour blanket in a world frozen in shame, will you let another share in its warmth? Will grace melt this glacier too?
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