I was just thinking tonight about how much I cry and how very sad it is that I don’t cry when I look at the cross. I look at Jesus hanging there and I wait for the flood of tears…but they don’t come. I wonder, sometimes, if maybe I’ve become desensitized to the cross.
It just doesn’t make sense. Jesus Christ died for me. He chose the nails, He chose to suffocate, He chose to be beaten, to have his flesh torn, and what do I do in return? I can’t even shed one little tear for Him? What does that make me?
We speak of the cross as if it’s just a normal, everyday thought. It passes through our minds, we say a quick, “Thanks Jesus!” and the day rolls on. I wonder what Jesus must think; I wonder how He has the patience and love to deal with us.
So if you are reading this and thinking of how much of an embarrassment I must be to those who profess themselves to be Christians...remember that on this road, we stumble and we fall hard, but God, who is working in me and in you will someday make us whole. He knows our struggles; He knows how sinful we are, yet He loved us so much that He hung on a cross for us. Think about it. Really think about it and let the reality of it soak in. It's not just a story.
I’d rather admit my struggles to you so you know that when we are saved we are not made perfect, just forgiven.
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