I Cry, Don't you?

Dear Sweet Lord,

Our celebration of your passion is about to begin.  Not only do we remember and celebrate the days that you went through the pain and betrayal and death, we put ourselves into those moments and strive to see them for ourselves from the inside.

It's incredibly overwhelming.  If this year is like every other, I will cry.  I cry thinking of the betrayal of all of us people who are supposed to love you best. How it must have broken your human heart, even as the God of you knew you loved us enough to do it all anyway.  You knew we are only human, and weak, and need our Savior. You even said "Forgive them, they know not what they do!"  You knew we were clueless.  But now we know a little, and the knowledge is crushing.

Of course I cry when I realize that I haven't loved you well enough.  Of course I cry when I look around the pre-crucifixion events and I know what happens to you. I see what's about to happen!  I know that they ripped some flesh right off your frame when they beat you.  I cry thinking of how you bled, and they put a robe on you to mock you.  I cry thinking of them mocking, and something deep inside me screams out, "STOP!! You don't understand!"  I cry thinking of how your bloody back must have connected with the fabric of that robe, and started to scab up, as your body fought to heal itself.  Then they tore it off.

Dear Lord.

Then they send you off with your own cross to carry.  It's not really YOUR cross, it's supposed to be mine.  I sinned, not you.  Me and all of my Christian friends earned that cross with our choices, not you.  But you carried it.  You carry me.  I'm not crying out of guilt.  I cry with the knowledge of exactly how much you love me.  You take my punishment.  You take my sorrow, and the buffets and spitting.

I cry thinking that someone could look into your beautiful face and spit.

I cry knowing that when I turn my back on you and choose something less, I do exactly that.  Then I cry tears of guilt and sorrow.

It's going to be an intense week.  I welcome the opportunity to cry all those cleansing tears, and to experience this next week with you.

Love,

Me