BLESSINGS TO ALL :)

GET QUIET WITH THE LORD TODAY, AND BE THANKFUL FOR THIS DAY, REMEMBERING HE SACRIFICED HIS LIFE WILLINGLY FOR LOVE. THE LOVE IN HIS HEART FOR EACH ONE OF US HE HOLDS SO DEAR. JESUS SACRIFICE IS THE FINAL SACRIFICE HE WAS THE LAMB WHO LAID DOWN HIS LIFE SO WE COULD LIVE. THANK YOU JESUS FOR TAKING OUR PLACE, TAKING THAT WALK OF A DEAD MAN WALKING JUST FOR US AMEN. YOU PAID OUR DEBT IN FULL AND IT IS FINISHED.

LORD JESUS I PRAY TODAY FOR YOU TO TOUCH US WITH YOUR LOVE YOU HAVE FOR US, LET OUR HEARTS, MINDS BE STIRRED AND REFLECT ON THIS DAY STANDING AT THE FOOT OF THE CROSS, LOOKING INTO YOUR EYES FEEL YOUR PAIN, SUFFERING.... AND CRY OUT THANK YOU! THANK YOU! FOR PURCHASING OUR SOUL, BY SEALING IT WITH YOUR SHED BLOOD OF PROMISE AMEN.

Jesus' Last Words on the Cross

The hill is quiet now. Not still but quiet. For the first time all day there is no noise. The clamor began to subside when the darkness—that puzzling midday darkness—fell. Like water douses a fire, the shadows doused the ridicule. No more taunts. No more jokes. No more jesting. And, in time, no more mockers. One by one the onlookers turned and began the descent.

That is, all the onlookers except you and me. We did not leave. We came to learn. And so we lingered in the semidarkness and listened. We listened to the soldiers cursing, the passersby questioning, and the women weeping. But most of all, we listened to the trio of dying men groaning. Hoarse, guttural, thirsty groans. They groaned with each rolling of the head and each pivot of the legs.

But as the minutes became hours, these groans diminished. The three seemed dead. Were it not for the belabored breathing, you would have thought they were.

Then he screamed. As if someone had yanked his hair, the back of his head slammed against the sign that bore his name, and he screamed. Like a dagger cuts the curtain, his scream cut the dark. Standing as straight as the nails would permit, he cried as one calling for a lost friend, “Eloi!”

His voice was raspy, scratchy. Reflections of the torch flame danced in his wide eyes. “My God!”

Ignoring the volcano of erupting pain, he pushed upward until his shoulders were higher than his nailed hands. “Why have you forsaken me?”

The soldiers stared. The weeping of the women ceased. One of the Pharisees sneered sarcastically, “He’s calling Elijah.”

No one laughed.

He’d shouted a question to the heavens, and you half expected heaven to shout one in return.

And apparently it did. For the face of Jesus softened, and an afternoon dawn broke as he spoke a final time. “It is finished. Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
As he gave his final breath, the earth gave a sudden stir. A rock rolled, and a soldier stumbled. Then, as suddenly as the silence was broken, the silence returned.

And now all is quiet. The mocking has ceased. There is no one to mock.