I keep seeing him carrying the cross! It brings weeping… It brings deep sadness to my heart as I picture it. Imagine lifting a crosstie on your shoulder. Imagine doing that after your back was beaten to the point that muscle, ribs and tendons were exposed. Imagine the burning in your muscles as you were…
He had seen several crucifixions. He had walked past and witnessed the cruelty of the cross. He saw how it looked… he had heard the suffering… he observed the agony. Our Savior knew what was coming. On this night in 33AD our Jesus felt unrelenting stress. He felt crushing anguish. As he cried…
Really? How can this be? I knew he was special… I saw him perform so many miracles but to bring himself back to life? It must be a mistake, it simply can’t be. Then Thomas saw him. “See my hands Thomas. Touch the hole in my side. Believe…Thomas, because I love you”. I try…
He had seen so many crucified but none had been beaten so badly. Wounds so deep. Thorns so sharp. Hatred so intense. This centurion had hardened his heart because there had been so many. But this one was different. This one seemed to endure the pain with a purpose. Then it happened. Middle of the…
So I’ve spent this week in prayer and concentration on the cross and the mystery that is the life of Jesus. As I meditate on the six hours… on the moment he committed his life to his father… it causes such a bag of mixed emotion. At that moment, in that instant, it didn’t matter…