untitled.

I was spending a length of time with God and He gave me a picture of Him walking, leading me up a mountain.

Leading me.

We got to the top of the mountain and there was a bloody cross and nails dry with caked blood, lying in an orderly heap. 
Jesus took my hand and together we moved the wooden cross to the top of the mountain.

THEN, with a piercing look He gave me, I understood.

In that moment, I claimed the cross as my own and as He stood beside me, I leaned down and reached for the first nail and hammer. As I relinquished the hammer to Him, I gazed at His face once more.  This gave me the strength & courage to take my place on the wide beams.

He knelt beside me and with my gaze locked onto His, I willingly extended out my arm to surrender the first nail to Him.  He put His hand on my shoulder, then took the weight of the spike from me.  I then stretched out and breathed deeply.  I could only see a blurry glimpse of Him now…and suddenly a raised mallet against an empty, gray sky.

Time seemed momentarily suspended and I exhaled, bracing myself one last time.

Excruciating.

My heart was on FIRE.

How could this be love?

…this was my death, but even then, I trusted Him.

THE tears came quickly, a steady stream straight from the wells of my soul.  My breaths were ragged, and short– gasping was an understatement.
Still, I stretched and my trembling fingers found another smooth metal spike.  Grasping its icy length, I clenched it in my palm and beckoned it towards my body. 

As I felt the shattered bones in my right hand, my heart faltered and I considered fighting;
in that moment I knew fear.

Almost as though He knew my inner struggle,
I felt a firm, warm hand rest gently on top of my shaking, rebellious limb.

Instantly He restored my peace and I recalled His eyes of glowering love.
Overwhelmed, my fingers released the nail into His grasp and with perfect strength I positioned my left side to exact alignment with the wooden prison I had begun to embrace.
This time, I pressed my eyes tightly shut and  solely pictured His face, and as the metal shattered my skin, I maintained my silence.

Agonizing.

It was so quick, yet it took forever.

As my blood slowly drained from my body, I was foggily aware of the figure at my feet….
kneeling.

The wind swept my hair from my face and with it, carried the murmurs of His soft, melodious voice. 

He was weeping for me.
He was praying for me.

My vision swam, one breath more and all I knew was black and void.

…And yet…I was breathing again.
How did I get on the ground?
What was happening?
Less and less was the agony I had known fully, only moments before.

A strong wind.  Refreshing.
Sound. A spoken word.

“Beloved.”

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