He Looked at Me
by Diana, Gig Harbor, Wash.
He looked at me with sad eyes. His face was sunken, his cheeks hallow.
The cross weighed heavy upon his shoulders and deep red gashes were
exposed openly on his back. On his head he wore a crown of thorns. Why?
Why was he doing this? He did nothing wrong! I knew this… the crowd knew
this. But that look said it all: You. You are the reason. You are why I
stood there and let the whip dig into my flesh. You are why I carry
this cross down this path of scoffers, and you are why I will willingly
lie upon these splinters and allow nails to be driven through my body. I
will die, and it will all be for you. The people around us faded away,
and it was just me and him, standing face to face. Tears filled my eyes.
“But… but… I’ve done nothing to deserve this!” I found myself yelling
at him. “I am unworthy, sinful, scum! Why, Jesus? WHY?” Beaten, bent,
and torn, my God reached out his hand and touched my face, wiping away
my heavily falling tears. “Because you are mine and I love you.” Despite
his pain, his suffering, the swear words being shouted at him, the
world turning their backs on him, he smiled at me. “Because I love you…”
He repeated. I furrowed my brow. How could he love me? It was my
fault he was here, on the road to death. I was just as bad as the rest
of the crowd. I had turned my back on him, picking sin over joy. “But…
but… Lord! HOW? WHY?” I crumpled to his feet, sobs erupting my body.
Jesus lay his cross next to him and bent down, pulling me into his thin,
stick-like arms. They felt strong, like nothing in the world mattered.
“My child… my child.” He whispered softly into my ear. “No love is
greater than the love I have for you.” I didn’t understand, I couldn’t
understand. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry for my sin! I’m sorry I’m not who I
should be. I’m sorry I can’t be what you want me to be! I’m sorry I did
this to you! Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” I cried into his bare shoulders.
Jesus kissed my forehead. “I forgive you.” His voice was soft, caring,
strong. Around us appeared the crowd and the gruff looking guards
again. “Keep walking!” The nearest guard sneered at the Savior of the
world. With one last smile, Jesus painfully picked up his cross… MY
cross… and walked down the crowd jeering and spitting at him. It was at
that moment that I realized, I would never understand what my God was
doing for me, but I would accept it… I would accept HIM. I made a
promise to him right then and there that I would go where he would lead
me, and do what he would ask of me. I was his instrument, for him to
play as he pleased, for this man, this God, laid down his life to free
me from suffering I had inflicted upon myself. And all because he loved
me for who I was. Now THIS is LOVE.