Good Friday

I thought about the fact that it was Good Friday today many times. But I have to admit I didn’t take much time to think about or reflect on what that meant. But as I rocked my son to sleep this evening, I stared at the crucifix which hangs on the wall above our bed. I heard my son’s soft breaths and thought about Jesus’ last breath.

He was someone’s son.

He is God’s son.

I felt the weight of it. The sorrow crushed me and I actually labored to breathe. How did God do it? How could he have watched his son suffer so? How could He place the weight of the world’s sin on such precious shoulders?

It made me ever so much more thankful for the small life falling asleep on my chest. And thankful for Jesus. That he died so that we could live forever.

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