Author Archives: Sherri Woodbridge

Do Great Parents Make Great Kids?

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While scrolling through the status updates on Facebook recently, I came across a status update from a long-time friend that read something to the effect that she was proud of her kids, who they’ve come, and the difference they’ve made in the world using the gifts they had. Another friend of hers commented, “Great parents make great kids.”

I sat there for a good long time thinking about that comment. The more I thought about it, the more I disagreed. Great parents do not necessarily make great kids or even good ones, just as bad parents don’t necessarily make bad kids.

Often we tend to think that if we do things just so – teach the right values, encourage the right gifts within our children’s spirits, teach the importance of respect, responsibility and more – our kids are going to turn out great. Any parent who has parented for over five years knows that is not true. Any parent knows from day one that each child has a will all their own. Any parent knows that great kids do not evolve simply because they may have great parents.

Too many times I have seen moms beat themselves up over the choices their child has made. Godly mothers who were on their knees for that child even before they were born. Mothers who made it a point to gather her little ones around the dinner table each night instead of a television. Mothers who taught her children the unconditional love through example.

I have known great parents with great kids, but it’s not a guarantee that if you’re a great parent, you’re kids are going to turn out great. Look at the story of the prodigal son. What an encouragement to never give up hope for struggling parents everywhere! Parents who did all they could to steer their young ones down the right path, however somewhere along the way, a child reaches an age where they begin to make their own decisions and sometimes – often – their decisions are filled with foolishness. Yet, to that child – whatever the choice, whatever the decision – it seemed right for them. What’s a parent to do?

Stand at the gate like the wonderful father of the prodigal son and wait for them to come back. And like the wonderful father, don’t give up hope. He believed he would see his son come home – come to his senses. If he hadn’t, he would not have gone to that gate every day.

Good, great parents. They have to start with good, great people, right? You can’t be a good parent if you’re not a good person, right? Would you agree that if you’re thinking about being a parent, it’s probably best to stop drinking, doing drugs, robbing banks, forging checks or whatever? It’s probably time to get your life in order and grow up. So – say you have. Better yet, say you’ve never had to struggle with any of the above curves that life can throw at you, swung at them, and began a walk around the bases of misery. Say you’ve always given your best, never smoked, never drank, never told a lie. Say you were a poster child for humankind. And now – now you’re about to be a parent. Surely your child will tow the line. They will love unconditionally every kind of person, every part of life itself. They will take the world by storm and make mama and daddy proud. But, what if…

What if one day you find out they’re addicted to drugs and never had a clue? What if one day you find out they are an alcoholic and never saw it coming? What if one day they tell you they’re moving in with their boyfriend and defying everything sacred you ever taught them about marriage? What if one day they come and tell you they’ve had it with your way of life and they’re off to make a life of their own?

Prodigals come from great parents. Prodigals don’t escape the life of misery to be more miserable. Those are called runaways. They are usually trying to escape a dysfunctional situation already, not get deeper into one. Prodigals are trying to prove a point. They think they know what’s best and they’re going to prove it to you. The problem is, prodigals have limited vision and in their limited vision, they can’t see that their parent(s) has a little more wisdom and a little more experience and… it is the wise parent who lets them leave.

One of my granddaughter’s favorite movies is Finding Nemo. It’s a story of a little fish, Nemo, who gets taken from the ocean to become someone’s pet. His father, Marlin, is beside himself. In one part of the story, as Marlin is trying to find his son, he hooks up with Dory, another fish who says she’ll help Marlin find his son. Eventually, Dory and Marlin end up in a whale.

Due to unavoidable circumstances, Marlin has raised his son based on fear. He has always kept his son close and tried to control all of life’s situations for Nemo. Now Marlin has come face to face with the reality that he is not in control. While in the whale, there comes a moment when Dory and Marlin may be able to escape, but Marlin has a hard time trusting.

As they’re holding on for dear life, Dory (who can also speak ‘Whale’) says, “He (the whale) says it’s time to let go! Everything’s gonna be all right!”

Marlin answers rather loudly, “How do you know!? How do you know something bad isn’t gonna happen!?”

“I don’t!,” Dory exclaims as she holds on to Marlin’s fin.

As parents, we are constantly trying to protect our children from harm and danger. The problem is, we are not in control. We never have been and we never will be. From infancy and on, they have a will of their own and try as hard as we might, we cannot control that will. At some point in time, they will stretch their wings and either fly – or fly away. We can’t determine which direction they will fly. We can’t tell them which direction to fly. We can teach them as best we can what they’ll need to survive, but we can’t make them learn what we teach. We can feed them all the best of life, all the knowledge life has to offer, share our experiences and wisdom, but we can’t make them accept what we think is best for them. They will take from life what they want (and hopefully give back) and not necessarily what we lay before them. They have a bent all their own that will play a significant part in guiding them as they make choices and ultimately, mistakes.

Do you have a child that has wandered? A child that is an alcoholic, a drug addict? A child that lies and cheats and steals? A child who thinks he knows what is best and he’s out to prove it? A child who just doesn’t care?

Wayward children often have great parents. Look back on your life as a parent thus far. If you can honestly say you did your best with what you know, with what you had – then let go. If you know you could have done better in some areas, don’t beat yourself up. We all mess up and err as parents. Instead, ask forgiveness of your child. Let him/her know you’re learning too. Seek forgiveness from God and then leave it there. The, – follow Dory’s advice…

Let go. Everything’s gonna be all right.

If you have a prodigal, stand at the gate and wait. There is hope if you don’t give up.

Wait for the Lord; Be strong, and let your heart take courage; Yes, wait for the Lord.
Psalm 27:14

His,
Sherri

Which Will You Choose?

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Trust is work. It does not come easy. Whoever tries to convince you otherwise has little faith and I believe that wholeheartedly.

To live a life of gratitude, of thankfulness and joy – those are the conduits that produce trust. But – not just any trust. A trust in a loving, sovereign God who has never failed. To say He never will fail is right and good, but we cannot put our trust in a God who never will fail unless we have first seen that He never has failed. We must utilize a trust that is deliberate and focused on this loving God that turns evil into good. A God that paints a rainbow in a dark, cloudy, drippy sky and calls it a promise. A God that painfully watches His son nailed to a cross and calls it redemption for an undeserving people.

Yet, why is our first and foremost, our fastest reaction – worry? Fear? Is it something we have learned in the classroom of Life-Lessons On Trust and yet because we somehow missed the first class, and to trust first never seemed to make sense? Why have we so easily learned the sin of stress over the treasure of trust? And someone tell me – why is it so doggone easy to fret and choose failure over faith?

I sit at the airport and watch the planes take off and land and I wonder – how many people on Flight 93 on September 11th, 2001, were fretting when Todd Beamer stated, “Let’s roll!”? They had a mission. They could have been filled with fear and yet, I honestly believe they were filled with courage in those final moments. There is no room for fear in courage and they were filled with a courage that charged against the demons of darkness that desperately tried to steal their faith and keep them huddling in their fear. Instead, they gripped that fear by the horns, cast it furlong into a field of thistles and thorns and millions called it good while at the same time mourning those who trusted in a higher and a greater cause.

Imagine a faith – a supernatural courage that can come from a life who is trusting in a superior, infinite, and sovereign God who has spent an eternity blessing His children (even though they have lived oblivious to that goodness). Imagine what can happen when they begin to catch a glimpse of the small. The once mundane that now has become magnificent. No – miraculous. Imagine when they don’t merely notice, but voice their thankfulness – their gratitude for the gifts they now receive.

It is when we begin to search for the little things that we begin to see the little things are not so very little. What once I walked past in ignorance (yes, ignorance) – the delicateness of nature, the complexities of creation, and the exquisiteness of life itself – it now shouts out in celebration of its very wonder. Why? Because I have begun to look for not just the little things in life that hold that incredible wonder, but all things. And… give thanks.

Could it be that when we look for all things in which to express gratitude that we find a plethora of ‘things’ in which to give thanks, we begin to develop a life of thanksgiving? For, it is in that very smallness that thanksgiving breeds joy and joy reels in anxiety and worry. The smallness dissipates doubt. It casts light upon the darkness and whispers ‘Live in this moment.’ It speaks, ‘Choose joy.’

Truth is the beginning of trust. They are built upon the same principal – putting faith in a loving God. A loving God who has proven He is trustworthy. He has proven it with a rainbow, a burning bush, a cross. When we can see those things – really see them – then we can and will unabashedly give thanks. And thanksgiving will produce joy.

That’s the truth. And the truth sets people free. Free to see. Free to live the way we were meant to live. Without fear. Full of joy.

- Sherri

Yours for the Taking

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Did we author the universe and tell the earth to spin? Was it we who put a firey orb in the sky and decorate the blue heavens with white fluff?

And was it our idea to spot the night sky with burning stars that twinkle, or cast an evening brilliance that lights the path of the night wanderer along his journey?

We did not mold the mountains from emptiness, craft rocks and hills, crevices and moors with our bare hands nor form the waters, stand from afar upon completion, and say that it was good.

Was it our fingers that planted the first seeds of the
first flowers on those first days and made miracles sprout
from a dry earth? Reds, yellows, purples, pinks. Did we fathom the colors of the rainbow and say it was so?

When the time came to partake of the beauty that surrounded us from North to South, East to West, did we sit and thank ourselves for such bounty?

We did not breathe life into dust and watch it take form, become a living, breathing being, with eyes that could see, a heart that now beat, and a mind that could discern right from wrong.


The birds of the air – intricate, delicate creatures of the sky – the circle of life – could we do that?

We stood in a garden, stood back and with pride, called it less than sufficient as we took a bite of the forbidden fruit.

We gave tribute to chaos. We took from the tree, called ourselves wise and instead – became foolish.

We are still fumbling with our food. We are still slow to realize that in each new day – a gift – we still stare truth in the face and turn and choose the lies of the infamous enemy, the plotter of deceit, the stealer of joy, the prince of darkness. When will we see that truth is easily seen each and every day, our just for the taking.

But we make it so hard, don’t we?

Instead of giving thanks, we think of how many good things we can do to win gratitude, appreciation, approval. We think of all the reasons truth cannot be true. We find other things less worthy to invest our time and talents, our worship, our works, our praise, our attention. Lesser things. Things.

The gifts are free. They come from the hand of one who holds everything in His hand. There is no price, no hidden hoops to hop through, no secrets that haven’t been told. He waits, not with deceptive fruit, but with blessings untold. He waits with arms held open wide. He waits for you. Just you. To give all – His all – for you.

His,
Sherri

Do the Work

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In my efforts to try and get back to writing, Ken suggested I read a book he had just finished reading entitled, “Do The Work” by Steven Pressfied. So, being the sublimely submissive (hahaha) wife I am, I consented.

Wow. I am writing this short post for one reason. To recommend this book (takes 1-2 hrs of your time). Simple, yet easily forgotten truths of life. It’s inspiring for those who have struggled with resisting starting and/or finishing projects (such as writing a book, putting the engine back in your car, painting a house, inventing a new lightbulb…) because of lack confidence, rejection in one form or another, and more.

For writers, builders, race car drivers, housewives, students…

Do the Work
Overall Rating:
 
Retail Price: $12.99
Amazon Price: $7.18

…it would make a great gift for anyone, teaching them to press on, to not give up, and to realize they can achieve just about anything if they just keep on and don’t quit. Pressfield, in a refreshing and simple way, shows us how to do just that – keep on.

A great read.

The Promise in a Rainbow

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Photo courtesy of National Geographic

 

Today I looked for a rainbow

while the rain fell to the earth,

pelting down upon the hood of my car

as I drove south.

 

I looked for a rainbow -

as the sun peeked through the dark clouds

that summoned those looking for rainbows

to come back to the dark side.

 

I’ ve seen enough of the dark side

to know it’s real

to know it’s here

to know it’s now.

 

But -

I’ve also seen too many rainbows

to know that God keeps His promises

as He did with Noah.

 

I’ve seen too many rainbows

to know that the sun at my back

is covering the entire sky -

though I may not see it

though I many not feel it.

 

I’ve seen too many rainbows

that always take me back to God’s faithfulness

and they bring me a hope

and a calm reassurance

that no matter the circumstances -

God is in control.

 

I’ve seen the dark clouds -

I have felt their cold, heartless storms

I have been captured in their darkness

I have known their power.

 

But I’ve seen the rainbows -

their vibrant, radiant colors that overcome the darkness

and take my eyes off that which seeks to consume me.

 

I’ve seen the rainbows

colors of God’s amazing grace

His merciful love

a promise kept.

 

And,

when I seen the rainbows,

I see the miraculous love of God.

 

 

 

 

Are you searching for rainbows?

Oh Lord, there are days and weeks, moments and even years in our lives that truly do seek to consume us with the darkness that surrounds us.  Let not those situations and circumstances that are so hard to fight through tear us down.  Let them not defeat us or cause us to grow weary.  Instead, may we hold fast to the promises you have given to us cause us to run after the rainbows that you give.  May they cause us to hold onto what we know to be true.  May we hold on tight to You.

 

#13 – …for rainbows.

#14 – …for the laughter of a child

#15 – …for hope.

 


 


I’m So Very Serious. I Think.

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I was driving down the road on the way to the store in pursuit of a birthday gift.   Listening to the radio.  Minding my own business.

Matt Redman, a worship leader, was singing a song talking about knowing God. And so, it seemed like an appropriate time to strike up a conversation with God that began something like this…

“Lord, I want to know you better and love you more. I get so distracted and in no time, within minutes – seconds it seems – my conversations seem to cease and I’m up and about, attending to whatever demanded my attention away from you.”

I continued to drive and talk…  “It seems to take very little any more to take my focus off of you. I say I need direction and yet I hurry off to the next important thing.  I could say it’s this disease, but you and I both know that’s not entirely the case.”

I was thankful the traffic light was red because that thought slowed me down as I asked myself, ‘What is the next important thing, anyhow? What is so important that I allow it to capture my attention of the One which I claim I want to know best?’

The thought led me to other thoughts.  Thoughts of fasting, which opened my eyes more clearly to that area of the Christian life. I know that fasting is giving up something, sacrificing something – in order to show God you’re serious about what you want. At least, that’s how it was explained to me and yet…  it has always seemed like more than that.

As I continued to drive down the road, I then began to think about how, when people fasted in biblical times, ‘they fasted and prayed’.  And – they sacrificed.

‘Lord’, I say, ‘I am giving up all food for the day so that you will give me guidance for the choices ahead of me.’ I sacrifice a hearty breakfast, I skip the breakfast prayer, and by lunch I have taken the sacrifice off the altar and put a hamburger on the grill instead, forgetting the promise made between God and I to get serious over this matter of intimacy.

If you’re like me, you’ve taken a bite of that burger and then – bam! – you remember that sandwich you’ve just inhaled wasn’t a part of this day and you spend the rest of the day living in guilt and determining you’ll never let that happen again.

Fasting… I think about it in terms of showing God I’m serious about a deeper relationship with Him.   I’m serious. Determined.  So very sincere.  And then I wonder…  if I’m so serious, am I willing to give something up to show God just how serious I am?  Something that really matters to me?

I thought back to other times in my life, like when friend brought Twinkies to school in her lunch and I had carrots. I was determined to make a trade. I said I’d give her my carrots.  I argue the nutritional value.  Deal?

No deal.  She argues she’ll live longer on Twinkies given the preservative value.

I refuse to give up.  How about my chips? Deal?

No deal. But she does have something in mind that will satisfy her. The necklace she always sees around my neck.  Gasp.  Surely not that.  My great great great great Aunt Agatha wore that on her wedding day (I don’t really have a great Aunt Agatha anything, but stick with me).  I hesitate. However, because I want that Twinkie so badly – bad enough to sacrifice something precious, priceless, and valuable – I give in, take it off and I give it up.

As I hand over the goods, they hand me their fluffy, greasy, little golden cake, and as I carefully unwrap it, the grease sparkles from the sun’s rays as they hit the outer cake that covers the inner cream-filled cavity.  I almost get a taste of the filling in the first bite, but have missed by a mere centimeter.  It is in the next delectable bite that I reach the shortening flavored filling that is equipped with enough preservatives to keep me alive an extra 5 years.

As I chew and swallow the last bite I wonder… was it – is it – worth the trade?  I now wonder, ‘How badly do I want this relationship with God that I speak about? This deeper, intimate relationship that can and will satisfy any hunger or need? Am I willing to say, ‘Lord, what is it you want from me?’

I’ve got it!  Just like that – just like a miracle it comes to me.  ‘Lord!  I have some carrots!’

No deal. He doesn’t even want carrots.

Chips?

He’s doesn’t do chips.  Too much salt.  But, I see Him eying my Twinkie.  I want to scoot it under the bag, but I don’t move.  He can read my thoughts.  No sense in trying to pray this away and hope He’ll pick something else.

I look at my Twinkie. He looks at me. I really want to keep that Twinkie. I’ve been waiting all day for that Twinkie.

But I want Him more. So I hand it over.

I must be serious.  Hopefully, so very serious.

 

Sharing Spring

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Some of you are still holding on for spring while living in winter weather.  It’s coming – here’s proof…  I’ll share my spring ’til yours gets there and – IT WILL GET THERE!!!  Until then, enjoy.  First, a little background info -

Friday’s are Donut days and then off to yard sales with Boo.  This is where we came across the hat that turned her into ‘Spike’.  We have been working in the backyard and just started to plant.  More pics as it grows.  And, notice the Bubble Blower Boo?  She couldn’t do that last year!

The birds are gold finches and they are absolutely gorgeous!  We’ve had up to fifty hanging in that tree, waiting their turn to eat.  It’s awesome!!!

Easter Series, Part 10: Two Men Out for A Walk

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j0316900Sunday morning. The third day. Mary has already run to the disciples to tell them the good news – Jesus is alive! There’s a buzz in the air and anticipation is quietly growing.

A disciple named Cleopas is walking toward Emmaus with a friend at his side.  The two are talking.

“So, if he’s not in the tomb, where then?”

They continue talking to one another. Cleopas’ friend replies as he continues to walk, kicking a stone along the road. “Well, I say someone’s taken his body somewhere else or he did what he said he’d do and came back to life.” Cleopas’ friend kicked the stone ahead of him. “Did you see him bring his friend Lazarus back to life?”

“Yeah, I did. It was…  incredible. I know He’s got the power to raise someone but how’s He gonna do it if He’s dead?  That’s what I don’t get.”

“Man – that’s what’s been going on in my head. I mean—”

From out of nowhere, Cleopas’ friend is interrupted by a stranger who joins them on the road as they walk.

“Good morning,” he greets them.

“Hey,” Cleopas nods, looking up momentarily to make eye contact and then continues watching the dirt road in front of him as he walks.

The stranger continues to walk beside the two men. “So what are you guys talking about?”

“You must not be from around here. You haven’t heard what’s happened?”

“What’s happened?” the stranger inquires.

“There was a man creating a lot of stir among the people here – Jesus of Nazareth. The chief priests and our rulers handed him over to be sentenced to death and they crucified him on Friday. We were hoping that he was the one who was going to save Israel.  The king we’ve all been waiting for.”

“Wow. Sounds like I really missed something.”

“That’s not the half of it. He told his apostles that he would rise again on the third day and today’s the third day. There were a couple women who amazed us with their news of his tomb being empty and – .”

Cleopas’ friend interjects. “Yeah, they said they even saw angels who told them he was alive and some of our friends went to the tomb to check out the women’s story and his body was gone, but no one has seen him anywhere. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Haven’t you read the scriptures?” the stranger asks.

“What do you mean?” Cleopas replies, head hanging low to the ground and his hands in his pockets, he kicks another stone.

The stranger stops momentarily to face them as he says, “How can you not believe what the prophets said? Don’t you remember the scriptures teaching that the Christ would have to suffer all that’s happened and then enter his glory? Remember the story of Moses? Remember when…” as they being walking again on that road to Emmaus, the stranger begins to explain to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself. They walk another few miles, the two friends, feeling their hearts burning inside and listening intently as the stranger speaks. They don’t realize how late it has become when they finally reach Emmaus. The two men begin veering west to the place they are staying, while the stranger appears to be continuing down the road.

“Hey, it’s late – stay with us for the night,” Cleopas’ friend invites the stranger. The stranger accepts.

Cleopas introduces the new face to the other men who are present and the meal is ready shortly after. They gather around a table, much like Jesus and his apostles had just done three nights prior. And, much like the three nights prior when Jesus and his apostles celebrated the Passover, the stranger takes the bread, gives thanks, breaks it and begins to give it to the men with him at that moment.   And – it is at that moment the two men who had been walking on the road to Emmaus realize who this stranger is and then… he is gone as quickly as the moment he showed up when they were walking.

Cleopas and his friend immediately “got up and returned at once to Jerusalem. There they found the Eleven and those with them, assembled together and saying, ‘It is true! The Lord has risen and has appeared to Simon.’ Then the two told what had happened on the way, and how Jesus was recognized by them when he broke the bread.” (Luke 24:33-35)

Thomas, one of the apostles, is also known as ‘doubting Thomas’. He is probably known best for doubting it was actually Christ, (after being resurrected) who now stands in front of him.  He is in need of proof before he will believe. However, it seems Cleopas and his walking partner aren’t too far from having the same problem. After all, it doesn’t appear they’re really expecting him. If you were there when Christ said he would rise on the third day and really believed he was going to be back on Sunday as he said, wouldn’t you be checking out the favorite hangouts that you and all the guys had been to in the last three years to see if he shows up?

That’s a tough call. You’re staring at reality as you know it – no physical evidence of Jesus in the flesh – and yet, inside there’s a stirring telling you there’s more to come.

Are you a Cleopas? A Thomas? Will you believe that Jesus was real? Will you believe the scars from the nails that had been driven into his hands are really there without needing to see them? Will you believe the only reason those scars are there is because Someone really loves you and hung on a cross to prove it?

Well, it’s true.  And that someone is Jesus and yes… He’s Alive!

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What I Saw

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I went for a walk with Clara and this is just a snippet of what we saw…

 

I went for a walk with a friend and experienced a long-missed ocean sunset…

I went for a walk alone…

 

I went to Arizona…

Then I came home…

Everywhere I go, everywhere I look, I see the beauty and the glory of God.  I am so thankful there are so many colors in nature.  How boring black and white would be.  How sad if only one kind of bird – even if they were like those shown above.  How un-innovative if we all built the same kind of barn and they all weathered the same.  And how terribly empty my life would be without the Boo.  Thank heaven for little girls!  And thank God for His wonder and majesty, His glory and grace.

 

Easter Series, Part 3: Surely He Was the Son of God

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I have always wanted to prepare for Easter by taking the month leading up to that holiday and reflect on the events that make up what we call, Easter. I began that the other day with “When Jesus Says Your Name“. It was the story of Mary as she stands at the tomb, distraught over her Jesus being gone.

 

The second in the series, Bound For My Freedom, is the story of Asher, the young shepherd boy who sat next to Jesus in the stable, only to meet up with him again at the foot of the cross, as he assists his cousin Joseph in preparing Christ’s body with burial.

 

Today’s story, third in the series, is seen through the eyes of the centurion who saw the darkness of Good Friday turn to the light and hope of Easter. Enjoy!

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

“For God so love the world that He gave His one and only Son…”

For many, that verse has been heard a thousand times and it can mean next to nothing. For others, they have heard Jesus died on the cross, yet leave that fact hanging in mid-air where it stopped, so as not to allow it to pierce their heart. They, like I once did, have heard the story of the cross like this: “Jesus died on the cross for your sins.” That’s pretty plain. Pretty simple. But was that all there was to it, really? Just a plain and simple fact?

The last six hours in the life of Christ can show you, once again, (or for what may be the first time), that for Jesus to die on the cross, was not so plain nor was it so simple.

Jesus has been up all night with a great amount of anguish. After all, He is the Son of God and knows the Father’s thoughts. He knows what lies ahead. He had spent these precious hours on His knees, praying in the garden of Gethsemane. His prayers are powerful, intentional and pleading. So emotive that crimson drops of sweat drip from His pores. In the middle of His prayers, He is apprehended as if a criminal.

He is taken away, only to endure three legal, yet not so just, trials. He is flogged – a lashing done with the use of a whip made of rawhide.

In a flogging, the whip that is used contains steel like balls in the middle of the rawhide and at the end, pieces of bone that cut glass. The criminals in Jesus’ day were put on a pole and the authorities would then swing the whip. As it would swing around the criminals body, the balls would hit and cause major contusions to the organs as the pieces of bone cut into the flesh. When pulled out, it ripped away the flesh. Thirty-nine lashes was the legal limit, for few individuals ever lived beyond those 39 lashes.

That’s what Jesus gets.

When Christ lay, most likely almost dead, they strip him of his clothes. They spit on Him. They shove a twisted crown of thorns on his head. They strike Him on the head. They mock him as king.

Emotionally he is exhausted. Physically he is almost dead. Mentally he is drained. And yet, it doesn’t end there. In such a weakened condition, He isn’t able to carry the load of the cross – my cross. But he was the One chosen to bear it and He is led off to Golgotha – the hill on which he must die.

The nails are like spikes and he winces with each strike of the mallet that pounds each one into His hands and feet. Hanging there, they hurl insults at him and He does not retaliate; when he suffers, he makes no threats. Instead, he entrusts Himself to His heavenly Father, who judges justly.

A continual life of obedience, even in the face of humiliation. Obedience in the face of mockery. Obedience in the face of a death He had every power at hand to stop. Still, he endures. They aren’t finished with him yet.

They lift up sour wine for him to drink. They insult him, take his clothes and cast lots for them. It’s all a game to them. It’s all about taunting what appears to be the underdog. It’s all about obeying the rules of the mighty and twisting them to fit your pleasure.

“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son…”

He doesn’t use His words to bite back. He doesn’t say, “I’ll get you!” or, “Come on up here and say that to my face!” or, “Just wait until after the resurrection, buddy!” No, these statements were not found on the lips of Christ. Instead, He left the ways of judgment up to God and demanded no apology. Instead, he spoke in their defense.

“Father forgive them, for they don’t know what they’re doing!”

How Jesus, with a body wracked with pain, eyes blinded by his own blood, and lungs yearning for air could speak on behalf of some heartless thugs is beyond my comprehension.

Jesus didn’t die from loss of blood. He didn’t die of pain. He suffocated, for to die by means of a crucifixion is to die of suffocation. As His arms are nailed cross-ways above, soldiers bend his legs and put a nail between both ankles so that he is able to push up with his legs and pull himself up but as he hangs there, his arms quickly dislocate. As he tries to pull himself up, his organs begin to slide down and the pain of pulling himself up, is compensated by trying to get a breath and he suffocates.

“The reason my Father loves me is that I lay down my life …

No one takes my life from me…

I lay it down on my own accord.

I have the authority to lay it down or to take it up again…”

A centurion sits nearby. He watches the three men who are lined up on crosses – no respect, no cause for care or concern, no dignity – just pieces of meat. A conversation develops between the center man and the one to his left. The centurion can’t hear much but he definitely hears a proclamation by the man on the left that this man called Jesus is innocent. The rumble of voices quiet and the world grows freakishly silent.

As the centurion stands, he notices that the man in the middle is lifeless but out of somewhere, the lifeless body musters strength to lift its head upward and like a bolt of lightening and the roar of thunder he proclaims, “It is finished.”

The centurion takes three quick steps toward and falls at the foot of the cross of Christ. Not because he suddenly realizes just who this is that he has hung up to die, but because he loses his balance. The earth is shaking as the skies grow dark with anger.

He looks up into the face of this man, so near to death. Jesus looks down. His arms outstretched, hammered with nails the rugged post, He is unable to embrace this one who now understands. They lock eyes and in that instant, he falls under the grace of God and states a truth that will ring throughout history:

“Surely this was the Son of God.”

The faith of the centurion was born that day at the foot of the cross and forgiveness was poured down over him by the crimson blood of Christ. And, he weeps.

“Surely this man was innocent.”

Surely, He was.