At the Foot of the Cross Where My Heart Is Torn in Two

the cross

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 way I never could.

As He hung there struggling to breathe, agonizing in ways I could never imagine, I wondered if my being at the foot of the cross, perhaps, brought Him a small moment of comfort. Perhaps He saw me here at this moment two thousand years later, surrendering my heart to Him, my King, the Lover of my Soul; my heart was torn in two, wide open for Him to enter in.

I gave Him then, as I do today, all of my brokenness and my torn heart because I love Him with all that I am, all that I have to give.

My God. My God.  How I adore and honor Your Son!  How I want to take Him in my arms and hold Him and take away His suffering as a mother does for her child and ease the agony of my own heart that breaks.  And yet, I know He is King and it must be this way.  I cannot rescue Him for He is the One who rescues me.

My Savior, Jesus, My King. How I worship You and honor You! I fall here at the foot of Your cross and I cry out to You with thanksgiving.  Thank You for taking the punishment that was mine.  Thank You for carrying this overwhelming burden for me.  It would have suffocated me the moment I tried to carry it.

And thank You for loving me in such a way I can’t possibly fathom but only humbly accept and cherish, treasuring it in my heart and holding it as close as my own breath.

One day, Jesus, I will run to You as I’ve imagined in my dreams, and I will throw my arms around You to thank You. Perhaps I will give You such a bear hug like I’ve never hugged anyone before.  Perhaps I will kiss Your cheek, hoping to remove the sting of betrayal from Judas, replacing it with deep adoration as joyful tears soak both of our faces.  Or perhaps I’ll collapse before You and fall apart, sobbing at Your feet because there is no way I can ever thank You or love You enough.

I imagine at that moment You’ll help me to stand and You’ll take me in your arms and hold me, letting me cry and whispering in my ear words I can’t hear or even imagine just yet. Oh, the sound of your voice so near and the warmth of your arms.  I know I will be loved more deeply than ever before, the shadow of the cross behind You and light reflecting from You as You lead me into eternity in Your arms.  Those arms that hurt for me, that hurt for all of Your children, so long ago.  You wanted to hold us, and the cross was the only way.

The cross was the only way. And so today I kneel here in my heart at the foot of the cross, tears falling freely again, as I see You there, suffering for me. I bow my head and from my torn heart I cry until it splits open even deeper, widening the depths of my heart to love You even more.

Thank you, Jesus.

“It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two.  Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last.” (Luke 23: 44-46 NIV.)

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21 NIV.)

I originally wrote this post a few years ago. I can’t add or change anything. I still feel the exact same way – Thank you, Jesus. Thank you.

 

At the Foot of the Cross Where My Heart is Torn in Two

the cross

I went to the foot of the cross during a prayer meeting at church a few 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 way I never could.

As He hung there struggling to breathe, agonizing in ways I could never imagine, I wondered if my being at the foot of the cross, perhaps, brought Him a small moment of comfort. Perhaps He saw me here in this moment two thousand years earlier, surrendering my heart to Him, my King, the Lover of my Soul; my heart was torn in two, wide open for Him to enter in.

I gave Him then, as I do today, all of my brokenness and my torn heart because I love Him with all that I am, all that I have to give.

My God. My God.  How I adore and honor Your Son!  How I want to take Him in my arms and hold Him and take away His suffering as a mother does for her child and ease the agony of my own heart that breaks.  And yet, I know He is King and it must be this way.  I cannot rescue Him for He is the One who rescues me.

My Savior, Jesus, My King. How I worship You and honor You! I fall here at the foot of Your cross and I cry out to You with thanksgiving.  Thank You for taking the punishment that was mine.  Thank You for carrying this overwhelming burden for me.  It would have suffocated me the moment I tried to carry it.

And thank You for loving me in such a way I can’t possibly fathom but only humbly accept and cherish, treasuring it in my heart and holding it as close as my own breath.

One day, Jesus, I will run to You as I’ve imagined in my dreams, and I will throw my arms around You to thank You. Perhaps I will give You such a bear hug like I’ve never hugged anyone before.  Perhaps I will kiss Your cheek, hoping to remove the sting of betrayal from Judas, replacing it with deep adoration as joyful tears soak both of our faces.  Or perhaps I’ll collapse before You and fall apart, sobbing at Your feet because there is no way I can ever thank You or love You enough.

I imagine in that moment You’ll help me to stand and You’ll take me in your arms and hold me, letting me cry and whispering in my ear words I can’t hear or even imagine just yet. Oh, the sound of your voice so near and the warmth of your arms.  I know I will be loved more deeply than ever before, the shadow of the cross behind You and light reflecting from You as You lead me into eternity in Your arms.  Those arms that hurt for me, that hurt for all of Your children, so long ago.  You wanted to hold us, and the cross was the only way.

The cross was the only way. And so today I kneel here in my heart at the foot of the cross, tears falling freely again, as I see You there, suffering for me. I bow my head and from my torn heart I cry until it splits open even deeper, widening the depths of my heart to love You even more.

Thank you, Jesus.

“It was now about the sixth hour, and darkness came over the whole land until the ninth hour, for the sun stopped shining. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two.  Jesus called out with a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.” When he had said this, he breathed his last.” (Luke 23: 44-46 NIV.)

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Matthew 6:21 NIV.)