It’s About the Cross

“Good Friday is a day that means a lot and I think it’s OK for us to sit in the weight of it.  We can’t know the resurrection if we don’t know the death we caused.

Today I feel it in my bones- my sin, the hurt I cause.  And it’s OK to feel heavy.  Because how else would we know what it’s like when He makes our burdens light with His Love?”  -Jessi Connolly

 

She echoes my heart.  I’ve been focusing on the events of Holy Week and Good Friday, on the blood spilled, the anguish and pain, the lonely dark weight of my sins on my Jesus’ torn back…and my heart sinks.  I know this isn’t the end of the story (Praise God!), but I want to remember.  I want to remember the sacrifice, to impress on my mind the anguish endured for me.  My sins- the ugly past, present, and future- dripped from nail-pierced Hands on a rough cross to dry dirt that soaked in blood and tears.  My sins held Him there- my lies, my pride, my self- had Him writhing in pain, crying out to His Father.  “God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?”  Love is what bowed His Head as He breathed out His Life…for me.  For you.

But He was wounded for our transgressions,

He was bruised for our iniquities:

the chastisement of our peace

was upon Him;

and with His stripes

we are healed.

 

 

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