He stood
blameless and silent as His accusers called out for His death.
A crown of thorns upon His brow.
The crack of whips and chains and shards of glass ripping into His flesh echoed through the courtyard.
Mocked and stripped of His dignity and clothing, carrying His own cross, He made His way to Golgotha.
The nails driven in, lifted high,
death whispered.
Yet, forgiveness, mercy, honor, salvation, purpose, never faltered.
He pleaded
forgiveness on behalf of His mockers.
Honoring His Mother, He loved her and left her in the capable hands of John, the disciple whom He loved.
He gave
salvation to the thief who recognized His sacrifice.
Separated behind a veil of sin covering the Lamb, He cried out "My God, My God, Why hast thou forsaken me?"
The
fulfillment of scripture caused his asking for a drink. Vinegar was His gift.
And in the darkness of the earth crying out in pain, darkness of sin, He whispered, "
It is finished. Father, unto Thy hands I commit my Spirit." And He breathed His last.
At that moment, the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, "Surely he was the Son of God!" (Matthew 27: 51-52 and 54)
The words of my Jesus on the cross have always been precious to me. From the time I was a little girl, I remember my Mother reading those precious Red Letters to me.
Red Letters
dripping with sacrifice
of purpose
promises.
Love.
In it's purest form.
Given to all.
Accepted by some.
Letters of hope
of forgiveness
grace
spoken by a Man
given by God
Proclaimed today.
