Good Friday

I was there when you entered the city last Sunday. I placed my shirt on the ground, waved my palm branches, and cried "Hosanna!" I worshiped you like the true King you are.

But when you were brought before the court I didn't so much as stand up for you. I  jeered when your face was shown. I found my voice shouting for Barabbas when Pilate asked who to release.

I condemned you.

I whipped your back till the skin was torn like paper shreds. I pushed the crown of thorns onto your forehead until I saw a flow of blood. I sat silently as you were kicked, slapped, punched, to the point where your human features were indistinguishable.

I laughed at you, the Creator who gave me my very breath.

I mocked you, the King of Kings. 

I taunted you, the Son of God. 

I lorded myself over you, the Lord of All.

I didn't carry your cross. I turned away when you came near. I averted my eyes from your piercing gaze. When your cross was raised up, I hung my head. 

You died for me.

I was Sin. You were the sacrifice for me.

I was Shame. Your blood covers me.

I was dirty. You washed me clean.

I spat in your face. You smiled at me.

I drove the nails. You forgave me.

I pierced your hands, your feet, your side. You embraced me.

I cursed you. You told me you loved me.

I denied you. You accepted me.

I betrayed you. You gave me a second chance.

I was lost. You left your 99 sheep to find me.

I was a prodigal. You called my name, and ran to embrace me when I returned.

I am fallen, and I live in a fallen world. You are perfect; you sit on a throne, and want me to join you.

I deserve death. You died so I could have life.

I deserve condemnation. You give us hope for eternity.

You were bruised, broken, poured out - for me. 

On the cross you were Sin. You were Shame. You were Suffering. 

For me.

In my place.

You were perfect, and yet you took upon yourself what I deserved - betrayal, torture, death.

You were the embodiment of love without condition and without limit.

May I never forget your sacrifice.