Breathing is hard.
With the weight of all that is falling on His shoulders standing is
difficult
but stand He must – for us.
We caused this moment.
Our sins heaped upon Him hard and heavy.
Dark and bloody they drip over His being.
He gasps and falls.
They jeer.
He stands.
They
mumble.
With each strike of the hammer tearing into flesh,
He
willingly takes what isn’t His.
It is ours.
Marring His beauty with our filth,
it scars His body and
sears our souls.
If you close your eyes, do you see it?
Can you smell the blood, the sweat?
Do you hear Him struggle for His every breath?
For you, for me…
He suffered and died.
Fierce grace.
© A Sacred Longing 2009-2012
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