I wrote this post several years ago, but I try to share it every year at this time. Thank You, Jesus. Thank You.
I went to the foot of the cross during a prayer meeting at church a number of years ago. I knelt there, rested my hand on the wood, and bowed my head. I knew it wasn’t the actual cross Jesus was crucified on, but I imagined it was:
I imagined Jesus looking down at me as He suffered, His blood running down and flowing over the rough, splintered wood before reaching my fingertips. I sobbed, imagining His face swollen and beaten, His eyes mere slits. But He was able to see me as I knelt there, my heart tearing in two. I hated the idea of His suffering, and at the same time, I was so deeply thankful because I knew He was saving me in a…
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