With Easter rapidly approaching, I feel my mind being pulled to another place. I imagine myself standing in the midst of an angry crowd. Above me, on a cruel wooden cross, hangs my Savior. If I hadn't seen Him being whipped and beaten, I wouldn't recognize the gnarled flesh displayed before me.
The sounds around me are a mixture of angry shouts and heartbroken sobs. Occasionally, even a wicked laughter can be heard. The smell of blood is thick in the air, adding to the gorge that's already in my stomach.
Sobs wrack my body and tears flow down my face as I watch my Lord struggle to draw in each breath, yet with that breath ask His Father to forgive the ones that have put Him here. His marred face shows no anger, only love and compassion.
"Why?" I ask in auguish. "Why must you do this? Why must you suffer for sins that are not your own?"
Jesus smiles down at me and answers, "So that you will never have to. For that, my child, is how much I love you."
He raises His head and utters a victorious cry, "IT IS FINISHED!" Then, His eyes close, His head droops, and His breathing stills. My dearest Friend is dead.
But, this is not the end. . . .
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