UNTAINTED RIGHTEOUSNESS

Photo by 祝 鹤槐 from Pexels

I sat there, with his blood on my hands, frozen in horror, I couldn’t believe my eyes, it was another human being’s blood on my own hands, his eyes stared back at me, accusing me of what I believed to be the ultimate crime. All I could think of was taking a knife and cutting off my own hands, if your arms made you sin, cut them off, right?

I had been sitting there, crying, for about 2 hours, until the tears could come no more, the sobs had wrecked my body till I felt like a shell of myself and I knew I had to get up and move, but the guilt wouldn’t let me, I felt I was...no, I was definitely condemned after this.

I knew the police would take me in, but I had a bit of paralegal knowledge, and I knew I wouldn’t go to jail, it was self-defense, it was really a mistake, I had to push him off of me, I had to fight back, I didn’t keep my virginity for 27 years to sit there without fighting when it was going to be taken away from me forcefully, it was simply self-defense against rape, but........that didn’t change the fact that I was a murderer, maybe if I didn’t push so hard, he would have only hurt himself, not cracked his skull open.

Religion told me I was a murderer and I believed it, tainted with another human beings blood, another one of god’s creation. My heart cringed as I thought of the loss of his family and loved ones. I closed my eyes, suddenly tired of my happy life. Should I kill myself? I had already murdered someone right? Suicide would be a more forgivable sin

“Would it?”

I froze, I thought I’d heard that out of my body, but then I realized I was the one who just spoke. I sighed again as one lone tear dropped from my eye. But that little voice crept into my grief again, answering my question “Suicide is as much a sin as murder”.

“What do I do?” I asked out loud, “I’m doomed, I have to live this life of condemnation, God Why? Please help me, speak to me, Didn’t you say there is no condemnation in you?...

I froze again, it washed over me like a wave and I looked down at my hands again, realizing all I’d been missing for the past 3 hours. I felt like a fool. He did say there was no condemnation in him Romans 8;1

“Aren’t you a fool?” I said out loud with a half-smile, and that caught me some stares.


It was sheer insult to god and the sacrifice of his son. I looked down like the people of Israel did rather than looking up as instructed, I’d been looking down at my sinful self, rather than looking up at god, and all I saw was my bloody hands, my sins, but now I realized that that wasn’t what god saw and nothing else mattered.

What I saw didn’t matter because it was the glorious and untainted hands of his son that he saw when he looked at my hands, and those hands, were now my hands, clean and sinless. It was the light and


face of his son who died for me that he saw when he looked down at me, because I accepted that sacrifice. I knew I was covered, by the blood and by his sacrifice, why would I want to insult or disregard that.

Gratitude made me cry even more. I started bawling my eyes out again, half crying and half laughing in glee. In that moment, I knew that this was one of the biggest and truest tests of my faith that I’d ever had so far, I realized that I’d been speaking words I never quite understood, no condemnation in Christ, I felt his glory, presence, and grace within me and the burden in my heart was lifted.

The world started coming back into focus for, the world of people that were in my tiny living room now came back to me.

“Omo, call doctor o”
“e be like say she don dey craze sef” “oh, poor girl”
“nawa o”

One part of my brain registered that they were concerned about me, because of my sudden outburst of tears and laughter, the police stood there, looking at me weirdly, I knew they would have thought I killed him on purpose if I hadn’t alerted my neighbors when he died, thank God they’d heard the break in and his attempt to rape me.

The other part of my brain looked at the young lost man on my floor and I felt grief, not for me, but for the ones that would lose him. I got on my knees to everyone’s worry and bewilderment, I said a prayer for him and others like him, another for his friends and family, and one last one for myself, thanking god for my righteousness in him through his grace, bestowing on us all the revelation, strength and guidance to move on, then I picked up the phone.

After what seemed like eternity, the questioning, commentary, and swarm of people finally left dissipated, leaving me sitting calmly out of breath, bloody and with peace singing all around me. The police kept looking at me weirdly, I think they were freaked out at how calm I was, maybe that made them suspect me a little bit, but thank God for the witnesses.

I still had to go down to the police station for statements, interviews and what nots, I knew that the next few days of my life was going to be a blur, but they couldn’t condemn me because I knew they didn’t have the power to.

I stepped out of my living room, covered in another man’s blood into a police van, feeling and knowing I was as righteous as Christ in Me.

Bio: Fon Peter is a writer and published author, presenter, actor, and inspiration enthusiast. She has published two poetry volumes and is looking to publishing more books in the works. Instagram: @fon_peter Facebook:  Fon Peter Website: www.fonpeter.wordpress.com

Fon Peter