It's Friday on the holiest week of the year. As Christians, we are supposed to take this day to stop and reflect on where Jesus was on a Friday two millenia ago.
A couple of weeks ago in church the speaker asked some people to stand in the aisle and slowly raise their arms to their shoulders on either side. As I watched those people take that action, I was overwhelmed at the visual picture of what my Savior must have looked like hanging from those two pieces of wood. He was exposed, out there for everyone to see. In shame. In agony. For stuff that I've done.
When I stop to think about the shame, pain, and agony that I have experienced in my life, it is merely a shadow in comparison to what He must have borne on that day.
I was trying to think about what it must have been like for the people on that Friday when everything was completely black. Were they scared? Confused? Sad? What a clear picture of the grief that God must have felt knowing that He had let His only Son take my place.
I know what it's like to feel like your world is black. But that must have been something else.
Thank goodness I know how the story ends. I can't wait for Sunday.
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