Crucified.

Blood.
Sweat.
Pain.
Hurt.
Betrayal.
Wounded soul.
Torn flesh.
Darkened day.
Iron nails piercing.
Tree erected.
Feet weary.
Knees weak.
Thorns tearing skin.
Spit upon.
Mocked.
Slapped.
Looked upon with hate.
Object of wrath.

As you knelt to pray, blood poured from your pores.
Anguish.
Anxiety.
Pain.
Gripping Your heart and soul.
Praying to ask Your Daddy if it be not His will, to remove the cup of wrath that You must drink.

You drank anyhow.

You became the object of His wrath.

Your feet cracked from the weight of the wood you carried.
Blistered from the dust of the Earth You spoke into existance.
The sun that You placed in the sky, burned Your skin.
The thorns smashed into Your head.
The nails driven through Your hands, the same hands that formed me in my mothers womb.
Your mother looked upon You in horror and grief.
Her heart broken for her Son that she raised and tucked away at night.

Yet this night, You will go alone.

As You climbed that road, You knew the ones that would climb those mountains behind You.

Your back labored from the weight of the cross.
As huge splinters shredded Your back.
How did You shoulder the weight of the world upon Your back?

As the rods ripped Your flesh and back, how did you withstand the pain?
The same men who were whipping you, your heart broke for them, for You were dying for them.
The bystanders who mocked You, You cried for them.
Your heart was poured out through the tears You bleed.
As Your blood dripped from Your flesh, forming puddles in the mud below.

As a young man, You learned the trade as a carpenter.
With each pound from Your own hammer, You knew those same nails would be driven through Your own flesh one day.

You were born, to die.

However, what took Your life that day?

Was it the sword peircing Your side?
The beating?
Your lungs not being able to breath?
The nails?
The crown You wore?
Was it seeing Your mother crying in agony over seeing her baby boy hanging on a criminals cross?

None of these things took Your life.

You willingly gave up, Your life.

However, I have one question to ask You?

When Your Daddy turned his face from You, this broke Your heart, didn't it?
You felt the ultimate rejection?
Did You ask Yourself, "What else could be so painful?"

You were all alone.

No one was coming to You.

Your own Father turned from You.
You became what He could not look upon.
You embodied every wicked, evil thing upon the Earth and below it.

You drank the cup of wrath placed before You. Yet You Yourself were even wishing for it to pass from You.

I ask, "What took Your life from You that day?"

The question is rhetorical.

You died from a broken heart, didn't You?

Cardiomyopathy?

Your heart was broken.
Shattered.
Rejected.
Wounded.

You committed Your spirit.
You were God in the flesh, yet You committed Your own spirit unto death.

I would dare to question anyone who says You were weak, a coward or selfish.

You were swallowed up by death, only to overcome it once and for all...for all of us.

#YOUALONEAREWORHTY