A friend posted this on facebook and I just had to share it.
I am so undeserving...yet He loves me and gave His life for me. He is alive today! Praise the Lord! Remember Him as you celebrate Easter...Happy Easter!
He slowly stepped out of the comfort of His warm bed, knowing this was the day He was created for. He'd been up most the night talking it through with His Father, asking for wisdom and seeking just a grain of comfort. As He took a deep breath, whispered a prayer for strength and walked out the door of His meager home, He looked up and saw me standing next to a tree....waiting.
I jumped on His back like a child with her daddy and we started to walk. We had a long way to go and as we continued our journey, He continuously picked people up along the way. It was no longer just me and Him; I was surrounded by people of all different age and color, and we were all piled on top of His back. He stooped lower and became slower with each step.
We fought through crowds of mockers and doubters as we made our way to the destination. People taunted Him, spit on Him, ridiculed Him and laughed at Him. He remained silent, praying forgiveness for their foolishness and gently gathered them up on His back along with the rest of us.
He continued to walk.
He was thirsty, exhausted and defeated.
He heard, felt and experienced things He never had and it was quickly destroying His body and spirit. He was so pure, so clean. The filth and weight that He carried was almost too much to handle.
As we walked uphill, I could see a faint cross in the distance. While looking forward, I caught a glimpse of His dirty hair and furrowed brow drenched in sweat and I began to cry.
"Put me down", I said. "I can walk the rest of the way myself."
He replied, "Stay put, my dear Heather. You can't do this on your own. The only way is through Me."
I continued to weep as He struggled uphill. He was such a meek and small framed man. How He carried the weight of the world, I will never know.
We reached the top of the hill and I gently made my way down off of His back.
"Please don't do it", I begged.
He replied, "My Father loves you so much. I am doing this for you."
I watched as they drove nails into His hands and feet. I watched as they brutally crowned Him with a garland of thorns. I watched the blood drip down His face. I watched as MY transgressions, MY guilt and MY shame washed over His weary face. I watched Him cry out to His Father, suffering, wailing, weeping. I could hardly take it. Though He was no longer carrying me physically, I saw the torture of Him carrying my baggage, my sin, my humanity.
It was far heavier than my body.
As He hung there bleeding and giving His life through a calamitous death for ME, He cried out one final prayer to His Father.
His mother fell to her knees.
Silence flooded the earth.
I jumped on His back like a child with her daddy and we started to walk. We had a long way to go and as we continued our journey, He continuously picked people up along the way. It was no longer just me and Him; I was surrounded by people of all different age and color, and we were all piled on top of His back. He stooped lower and became slower with each step.
We fought through crowds of mockers and doubters as we made our way to the destination. People taunted Him, spit on Him, ridiculed Him and laughed at Him. He remained silent, praying forgiveness for their foolishness and gently gathered them up on His back along with the rest of us.
He continued to walk.
He was thirsty, exhausted and defeated.
He heard, felt and experienced things He never had and it was quickly destroying His body and spirit. He was so pure, so clean. The filth and weight that He carried was almost too much to handle.
As we walked uphill, I could see a faint cross in the distance. While looking forward, I caught a glimpse of His dirty hair and furrowed brow drenched in sweat and I began to cry.
"Put me down", I said. "I can walk the rest of the way myself."
He replied, "Stay put, my dear Heather. You can't do this on your own. The only way is through Me."
I continued to weep as He struggled uphill. He was such a meek and small framed man. How He carried the weight of the world, I will never know.
We reached the top of the hill and I gently made my way down off of His back.
"Please don't do it", I begged.
He replied, "My Father loves you so much. I am doing this for you."
I watched as they drove nails into His hands and feet. I watched as they brutally crowned Him with a garland of thorns. I watched the blood drip down His face. I watched as MY transgressions, MY guilt and MY shame washed over His weary face. I watched Him cry out to His Father, suffering, wailing, weeping. I could hardly take it. Though He was no longer carrying me physically, I saw the torture of Him carrying my baggage, my sin, my humanity.
It was far heavier than my body.
As He hung there bleeding and giving His life through a calamitous death for ME, He cried out one final prayer to His Father.
His mother fell to her knees.
Silence flooded the earth.
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