And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Another book was opened, which is the book of life. The dead were judged according to what they had done as recorded in the books.  The sea gave up the dead that were in it, and death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them, and each person was judged according to what they had done.
Revelation 20:12-13

 But I tell you that everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every empty word they have spoken. 
Matthew 12:36

So then, each of us will give an account of ourselves to God.
Romans 14:12

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We were all hunting for a giant conch shell to hear the ocean in. It was our granddaughter’s 10th-year birthday trip, and the epic stage was set. A bit of disappointment followed as we began to settle for mostly broken but fascinating, smaller shells.

I thought to myself, “Yes, sir, I’m definitely one of those broken, less-than-perfect seashells.”

Today’s passages are very understandable; some of us have read them many times. The Bible is clear that at the end of our lives, we will give an account of ourselves to God. People have told me,”All you have to say at the gates of heaven are those extraordinary words, “Jesus, I know him!” and then the pearlies will open wide. 

But Scripture says that I will, and we all will give an account of the good things and bad things we have done, period—end of story. No, I used the wrong words. It is not the end of the story; the story continues because this ‘cracked seashell’ has heard the whisper of God in her life.

But today, I seem to want to argue with God about why He wants this accounting at the end of our lives. I say to God, “You said in Romans 10:9, If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead,  you will be saved.” I defiantly add, “I don’t want to replay the list.” God whispers, “Just listen and read, Nancy, this is your longstanding problem.”

Yuck, my sin—the ways I’ve hurt my husband and those that I love, the overt and the covert ways that I have grieved God’s heart, I hate it all. But I begin to imagine Jesus lying on top of that mountain of sin or throwing it into the Pacific and Atlantic. Then the other remembering takes place, the goodness—me holding the hand of a tearful person in the care center, making chocolate chip cookies for the man I loved, just because…the goodness comes rolling like a river, things I have forgotten. My human heart breaks with joy and thankfulness. 

One day, our broken human shells will be holy, pure, and redesigned by our Master’s hand, and we will live to see it happen. And that is the best news ever!

Next Steps

Back to the broken shells, my artistic granddaughter made a design and glued the collected shells on a piece of driftwood, demonstrating that less-than-perfect shells can become a work of art, a memory of what God can do in our lives. 
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