March 22, 2011

          “Look upon Me, whom they have pierced in their hatred.  I received more than insults.  I received bodily blows, kicks, fist slapping, and the ultimate humiliation, the spit of men upon My face.  I was blasphemed, made sport of, harassed, ridiculed, mocked, and insulted.  I was bruised and lacerated over every part of My body.  They pulled My hair and pinched Me.  They whipped Me with a whip that seemed to be made of iron.  They shamefully disrobed Me and leered at Me, jokingly pushing and shoving Me to the ground.  They impressed each other by their extreme rudeness to Me.  They stared at Me mockingly and jeered.  They shunned Me and laughed at My appearance.  They gave Me no food or water.  There was no towel to wipe My face covered with blood.

          They used a reed to smash the thorns deeper into My browline.  As I winced in pain, they laughed.  They called My mother terrible names and blasphemed God.  They cursed incessantly and took My Father’s name in vain, pronouncing His blessed name with disgust.  They insulted My dignity and My mission.  They belittled My authority and honor.  They mangled My body with their brutality. 

          Yet I opened not My mouth.  I loved them and I prayed for them.  I saw ignorance and fear in their faces of proud indifference.  I saw them as little children in their mother’s arms.  I remembered the hurts and sufferings each of them had endured which had hardened them.  Their pain had made them cruel and heartless.  I looked past their words into their empty hearts.  I loved them more than I loved Myself.  I gave My life willingly for them.

          The cruel cross became My gift to My executioners.  I was too intent on praying for their souls to dwell on My pain.  “This is love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us …”

Jesus,

Conqueror of Woundedness, Shame, and Hate