When I was a little girl, I was terrified of Jesus on the Cross. To the point of tears. All of that suffering scared me.
When I was 19 or 20, I saw The Passion of the Christ with my Mom and Dad. I cried until my throat was raw, and spent most of the movie with my eyes shielded. The suffering scared me.
Today, while in church, I heard a sermon on Peter denying Christ. (Luke 22:55-62)
I was prompted to skip forward a few verses in Luke 22.
Suddenly, all I could see was His suffering. Not just Jesus on the cross, but Jesus before the cross. The people persecuting Him, going out of their way, to cause Him harm.
He wasn't a criminal.
He had done nothing wrong.
He never even spoke His defense.
At one point during the service, I found myself looking off to one side, because I half expected to see Him. That's never happened before.
I felt like someone had slapped me across the face. HARD.
Academically, I've "known" what He went through to save me. To save any of us, really.
Today, is the first time I really thought about it. About all the pain. All the suffering. Today, I didn't stop myself from thinking about it. I didn't look away. I didn't think about something else.
We sang "Jesus Loves Even Me" today.
The magnitude of that love...
How much He must love us. To suffer. To bleed. To die. To never speak a word in His own defense even though He was innocent, and didn't deserve a bit of what happened to Him. All so we wouldn't get what WE deserve.
How can we reject that kind of love?