If you watch movies on Greco-Roman times you will likely have seen a wax-surfaced writing tablet used by students for note-taking. When the letters were wiped off and the slate was, once again, ready for use, it was said to be ‘tabula rasa’. Clean slate.
Not far from where I live there is a small country church attended by about 150 people. Last weekend they set up the basement of the building as a sort of journey through Easter. Beginning in the Garden of Gethsemane and traveling room by room participants were guided along in Jesus’ footsteps. One station, in particular, left a lasting impression.
My guide wore a costume of the era and led me into the room with an 8′ wooden cross, a bucket of nails and a hammer. She pointed to the papers and pens on the table and said, “Write your sins down on the paper and nail them to the cross, or put them in the bucket. The nailing part is too much for some people.” She spoke about my sins like they were out in plain view. Were they really that obvious?
The 4″ by 5″ paper could fit quite a few sins if I wrote small so I thought for a few minutes and jotted down the most troublesome and persistent ones, took up the hammer, put the pointed end of the the nail into the folded paper and hit the nail head with a thunk. The hammering seemed thunderous in contrast to the quiet of the room. Within about 4 hits the job was done and something amazing occurred. Incredible release. And then grateful tears.
“Those who enter into Christ’s being-here-for-us no longer have to live under a continuous, low-lying black cloud. A new power is in operation. The Spirit of life in Christ, like a strong wind, has magnificently cleared the air, freeing you from a fated lifetime of brutal tyranny at the hands of sin and death.”
Tabula Rasa.
