Nail pierced hands, a wounded side
This is love, This is love
It is NOT okay for me to let this week pass and NOT think about, dwell on, cry for those nail pierced hands and that wounded side.
He endured those things for me.
For the girl that would spit in His face at times throughout her life, that would give up on Him and blame Him for the darkness that surrounded her life.
For the girl that would think she didn’t need Him or His grace, that she could make it on her own.
For the woman that, even after recognizing her need for Him, would take off on a quest to earn His love. Making a mockery of the suffering He bore for her.
For the woman that, time after time, would doubt His motives, fear He might not come through and question why He would allow tragedy in her life.
This woman needs to reflect on the brutality of the cross. The Lamb led to the slaughter, willingly, for me. Knowing even then that this girl, this woman, wouldn’t always appreciate or acknowledge the depth of the sacrifice. He did it anyway.
He died anyway.
He bore my transgressions anyway.
He loves me anyway.
That is what this week is truly about.
Nail pierced hands, a wounded side. I love you Jesus. I love you Jesus.
But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon Him, and by His wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to His own way; and the Lord has laid on Him the iniquity of us all. Isaiah 53: 5-6