A Mystery of Love
A Mystery of Love
Who can understand. Why would a person
sacrifice himself in such a way. Spat on,
slapped, falsely accused, deprived of sleep,
given no food, unquenched thirst. Hauled
before Pilate the Roman governor. No guilt found
but crowd cried for Barabbas, a murderer and rebel, to
be freed. No guilt could Pilate find, but the throng
called for His crucifixion. Scourged by Roman whips,
hunks of flesh torn and blood flowing in rivulets.
Crown of thorn smashed down on His head, blood
streaming into His eyes. Purple robes of a false king
draped around His shoulders. Forced to carry the cross
beam of His cross until He collapsed. Hand forged spikes
driven into His wrists and ankles. Stripped naked and His
clothes gambled away. Hanging in the hot dry sun his parched
lips cooled by vinegar wine. He cried it is finished and gave up
the ghost. His side pierced by a Roman spear to make sure.
A mystery to me why anyone would allow this to happen.
The only answer has to be love. God loved us so much He gave His
only son to die for us. Only He would consent to this and His ways
are beyond our understanding. His life for ours.
Copyright © Oliver Mckeithan | Year Posted 2025
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