Cover Me

Psalm 32:1 Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.

Last year I received a gift. Not just any gift, but a wonderful gesture of someone’s belief in me. As I prayed and thanked God for this person and this gift, I was so overwhelmed with gratitude I said it was the greatest gift I had ever been given. As soon as that thought flittered across my mind, God immediately reminded me of the true Greatest Gift.

And then, He took me there.

I am on my knees at the foot of the cross. The echo of taunting jeers still reverberates in my head. I see Jesus nailed to the cross, heavy spikes pierced through his hands and feet and into the rough wood. The skin is scraped off his knees where he staggered and fell on the way to the hill. His body is ravaged from the recent scourging he has undergone. The cord of the whip left tell tale stripes across his shoulders and sides. He is swathed in dirt, in sweat and streaks of oozing blood crisscrossing every which way. The blood is dripping from the wounds on his hands and feet into the thick dust on the dry ground. Each time a drop hits the ground a tiny cloud of dust puffs up for a second, then drifts back to the earth.

His face is a distorted mask of grief. One eye is completely swollen shut; the other is bloodshot and drooping. His cheeks are distended and purple. The twisted crown of thorns is still wedged on his head. The sharp barbs bite into his brow causing more blood to drip into his eyes and down his bruised face, which is covered with spittle from the angry mob.

Jesus cries out “My God, My God why have you forsaken me?”

A tear falls from his eye and trickles a path down his cheek through the blood and dirt.

I look around, it’s just me and Jesus, alone with the cross. I gaze at Jesus. That is MY sin covering his beauty. That is MY transgressions holding him to those beams. I see his anguish and pain. It belongs to me, but Jesus covered my sins with his blood, he paid the price for my life. I see his arms, nailed to the cross, outstretched as if he is beckoning me unto him.

Jesus, I’m here. Hold on to me, love me, change me, transform me into someone who is worth the price you paid.

My friend, this week I pray that you too, will take the time to travel to the cross. Journey from hosannas and celebration on Palm Sunday to the crucifixion on Black Friday. Then, rejoice the resurrection with me on Easter Sunday.