He loved me before I even existed.
He wept in the garden.
He knew all about me and the choices I'd make.
He let the soldiers lead him away.
He knew my heart - my stubbornness, my selfishness, my pride. My sin.
He stood in front of the judge and made no excuses.
He knew I'd be lost forever without Him, that there would be no other way.
The lashed him. They beat him. They pierced his brow with a vicious crown. He let them.
He thought of my hope. My future. My safety.
Maybe he even thought of me as the first heavy nail plunged through his flesh.
He knew my years of rebellion to come. He also knew I'd say...that one thing. Do...that other thing. Think...all those awful things.
As the full weight of his body tore at his wounds, he sill loved me.
He knew that I'd be prone to wander even after knowing Him so well.
As his lungs filled with fluid and he began to drown, he sill hoped for me.
He knew I'd reject Him, that I'd want my own way, that I'd let the world rule me for so long.
He felt the full weight of my sin - my separation from the Father - in those awful final moments on the cross.
It should have been my cross.
But no - He loves me too much.
Who can add to this? No one.
Who can take away? None - no one can snatch me from His hand.
How can there be another way? There can not.
Thank you, Lord. Thank you for suffering for me so mightily. Thank you for loving me so thoroughly. Thank you for saving me so perfectly.