God,
The Scripture describes you in human terms as one who gets angry, has compassion, rejoices, and grieves. I believe that to be true. You proved it when you became flesh and lived as one of us. So I can only imagine how you felt on that Friday, that day we remember today. What was it like to watch him be denied by those he loved so much, humiliated by the crowd, tortured? Could you have saved him? I suppose you could not change the minds and hearts of those who were a part of that violence and sadistic torture. You made that decision at the moment of creation when you created us with the freedom to choose. But could you not have sent fire from heaven to strike down the murderers? Could you not have simply reached down and gently lifted him alive off the cross and held him in your arms of love, eased his pain, proven to him that indeed you had not forsaken him?
Ah, but your love for him was only equaled by your love for us, for thieves on the cross and centurions on the ground, for sinners like me. So you made that choice. But what agony it must have been for you. I can only imagine.
So what do I do, except grieve my own sin, be thankful, and try, today and every day, to remember what you and your only begotten son have done for me? Ah yes, there is more I can do. But drops of grief can ne’er repay, the debt of love I owe; Here Lord, I give myself away: ’Tis all that I can do. (Isaac Watts) Amen.