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He Too
He too wept and shook while His friends slept. Fear, in the form of blood, seeping out of every pore.
He too cried out to His father, imploring him to take the pain away.
He too was betrayed, mocked, forsaken, and beaten.
He too was judged unfairly and condemned to death.
He too fell beneath a great burden, apparently defeated by the darkness of the world.
He too was crushed by guilt.
He too had marks on His arms and hands, deliberate marks of a deep hatred. These wounds were so that we could feel again; So that we could feel the love of His father.
He too could hardly take a breath, much less move.
He too asked why God had forsaken Him.
He too willingly died, His life cut short by this cruel earth.
He died so that we would not have to.
He bled so that our wrists would be unblemished
He was forsaken for the sake of our loneliness.
He already took our shame and was punished on our behalf.
Was that not enough?
Must one mark his wrists to complete his salvation?
Must one bleed to earn the love of God?
He too spent days dead and in a dark tomb.
He too had to roll away a heavy stone to see the light.
He too had scars.
He showed us how to live.
He did stay in the dark for a while but He rolled away the stone
He did die but He rose again.
Good Friday’s darkness was dispelled by the light of Easter Sunday
If you are dying inside, remember that He showed you how to rise again.
Copyright ©
Rose Kelly
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