I love Easter. I love everything about Easter (minus it’s over-commercialism lately). I love the joy floating through the air; it’s so thick sometimes you just can’t help but be overjoyed. I love the hope gliding through the atmosphere. I love every single thing about this special day.

Most of all I love the Man who died for me on Good Friday.
Why, God? Why for me? What am I that You would die for me?

Because. He loves me.
Talk about love. I’m pretty sure the guy who gave you roses wouldn’t die for you if you planned to scorn him. I’m pretty sure that girl you kissed wouldn’t take a bullet for you if you hated her.
Jesus is the original valentine, from God to all of humanity. Jesus knew He would be rejected, despised, scorned, and humiliated.
But He knew you would love Him. He thought of me. He loved me enough to die.
Just think about that. Think about the nails being driven through His flesh. Think about the crown of thorns gouging into His head. Think about the lacerations from thew whip covering His back as it rubbed up and down on that wooden cross.

So often we get this “plastic” view of the Cross. “Oh sure, that’s where Jesus died, yay Jesus.”
Ummm…no. The cross……is where I should be. I should be suffering. But Jesus…Jesus looked past the cross. and He saw me. And He took it so I wouldn’t have to.

Praise God. Talk about Love.
Thank You, Jesus, for taking my place.


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