"For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, "Abba, Father." Romans 8:15 NJKV

Dear Dad,

I just want to thank You for allowing my big Brother to die in my place. I was caught. I did exactly what You told me not do. I did wrong things over and over again. I know You weren't proud of me. In fact, I was bringing shame on Your name. It was getting so bad that my behavior was affecting how people saw You. Right or wrong, when people saw me, they often thought of You. Probably because I was always talking about You, or singing about You or preaching about You. It's a fascinating phenomenon to do all the things I was doing for You, and yet no one ever bothered to ask me if I ever really knew You.

My life was stinking before You. I knew it. And I was powerless to stop myself. If I could have, I would have. I know I was about to die. I could feel death close. I just didn't know what direction it was going to come from. Sin had given way to fear to the point that I was afraid to even drive my car, fearing that my sins had cut me off from Your protection. I knew I was in sudden death overtime. Whoever scored first was going to win. The enemy had me dead in the water. I was truly drowning. But I'm so glad that I have a big Brother who knows how to walk on water.

Dad, thank You. And if You would, please let Brother read this letter after You're done. This part is for Him.

I don't know why You chose for me to live and let Brother die. I mean, I do, but I don't. He's perfect. I'm not. He obeyed every single detail of Your instructions. I messed up the simplest assignments. He did His work with a willing heart. I was quick to question and slow to act. When they came for me, I knew I was done. But instead of arresting me, and trying me in court, they took Brother. They asked for me by name and He told them that it was Him they were looking for.

He who knew no sin became sin for us so that we could become the righteousness of God.

Why? Why Jesus? I watched from a distance as they beat You; You were spit on, smacked and beaten beyond recognition. I'm shocked that no bones were broken. All You had to do was point at me. All the evidence pointed to me anyway. My fingerprints were on the murder weapons. It was me who murdered an unsuspecting heart by gently whispering false hopes into vulnerable ears. It was I who lusted and functioned in flesh for years, all the while preaching "good news". It was I who resisted correction from Dad while You stayed obedient, even to the point of death. It was me! I did it. I wanted to tell them, but I didn't have the guts. I watched. I watched from a distance as they made you carry that Wood up the hill. They put You on that Cross and You stayed there. Unbelievable. You stayed there for what I did, for what I'd do.

Then it happened. Maybe it was my shame mixed with my tears. I don't know. But I promise, I looked up and I didn't see You anymore. I saw me. It was me on that Cross. It scared me to death. I thought it was some awful dream. But I wasn't mad. I deserved to be there. I wiped my eyes free of the tears and the sweat from the heat and gazed again. And there You were. Still there. I watched You whisper something to one of the ones next to You. I wonder what You said. He seemed to look different after You finished talking to Him. How You had the strength to speak at all is beyond me.

It started to get cloudy and really dark. It was so weird. But I had to stay. Then my mind started playing tricks on me. I started looking around and every face I saw around me became Your face when I would look up. Each time I looked up I saw a different face up there. It wasn't You anymore. It was everyone else. I was so ashamed of myself. Somehow You knew. I saw You when You looked at me. How You smiled with Your eyes even in that moment is still beyond me. Just in that moment I knew You were telling me it would be alright. Then You cried out "It is finished!", and Your head went down. I ran up to the Cross. Some Blood from Your foot fell on my head. I cried because You were dead. It should have been me. I let the Blood stay.

Then that curtain tore, top to bottom. And there was Father. I thought He'd be mad at me, but He wanted to see me. In fact, I found out that He was the One who tore that curtain so that I could see Him more clearly and approach Him with boldness. He acted as if I were You, Jesus. As I got closer I heard Him call me by Your Name. I told Father that perhaps He was mistaken. It's just me. Tania. The one that messes up all the time. The one that never seems to get it right. The one that wants a life do-over. I told Him what happened. I told they killed You for what I did. I was sure He'd be mad. He was smiling and He kept calling me You.

I told Him plainly, "Father it's Me! Jesus is dead! And He died for what I did!" He kept smiling and calling me You. He reached down and wiped some Blood from my head. He said, "As long as I see this, I see Jesus." Then it hit me. All the things You had been saying. All the words You spoke. It all makes sense now. Because of what You did, I can call Your Father my Father. For unless Your Blood is applied to my life, I cannot cry out Abba Father! Jesus, You didn't just die for me or instead of me. You died AS me. So since I died with You, I now live in You. Your Dad is my Dad. Thank You big Brother. You are deserving of the Name that is above every Name. And You deserve that right hand seat next to Dad. Keep praying for me while You're there. Sometimes it gets really hard down here.

Jesus, it's been one whole day since You got up. Now arise in me like never before. I can do all things because I've got Your strength. May I make You proud and never bring shame to the Name. Dad, thanks for always being there. You're the greatest. Well, I have to go now and do work. Can't rest on my name alone. But I can rest in Yours.

I will love You with my life.

Forever always eternally Yours now,

Your daughter,

Tania