A conversation with a friend (thank you Emily) encouraged me to crawl out of my cave and resurrect my newsletter from its unexpected sabbatical.
I’m a two-finger typist. I can barely navigate the keyboard, and yet I’m a writer by trade. Go figure.
That’s why my sentences are short and my messages brief.
So what’s the thought I’m carrying today, Good Friday, the day we celebrate the worst of crimes?
Simply this…
I’m the killer!
It was my sin that nailed Him there.
My iniquities that skewered his ankles to the board.
My sick mind drove thorns into His skull.
My wasting disease ravaged his bleeding back.
I held the hammer that pounded the nails. Blow after blow until the Son of God hung limply between heaven and earth.
I mocked Him, blasphemed, berated, picked up a rod and speared His heart.
I was guilty.
Not knowing that my savage attack was the very act that freed me from my pain.
He took everything of my sin and last of all swallowed up my guilt.
Innocent and Heaven bound, I stand amazed.
It’s a Good Friday indeed, for He took the worst.
And there’s a sequel on the way, this time even better.
Jesus first, everything else follows.
Selah,
David



