Hands and Feet

I prod Him toward the Cross.
He stumbles.
I lift Him up.
“Get up,” I murmur. “Move along.”
I watch this Man.
Staggering under the weight of the wood upon His shoulders.
Staggering under things heavier still.

He stumbles.
Collapses.
A fall is not enough for the fallen.
I must do my job,
As must He.
I help drag Him to that place rightly mine.

I hold His feet.
Feet that walked the Judean wilderness.
Feet that grazed the crests of storm-churned waves.
Feet bathed with tears and dried with hair.
Now feet held in place by a Roman hand…by every hand.

The hammer swings high, and each rhythmic blow echoes…

My sin.
My sin.
My sin.

Mine.
Mine.
Mine.

Me.
Me.
Me.

The cross lifted.
My shoulder against it hard.
My hand still around His feet.
Pushing Him toward His death.
All the weight heavy on my shoulder.
All of me now behind Him.
My effort placing Him there.
My hands’ work.
My heart’s desires.

Rising higher, He sinks lower.
Lower into my sin.
The darkness of it.
The stench.
The stain.

The cross hits bottom, jarring Him.
He cries out.
My hands slip free, spattered and smeared.
He holds Himself there now.

And I watch.
He looks at me…
I at him.

One last breath.
And, on my behalf,

He dies.

My hands, blood-washed,
Stained still today,
By the God-ordained sacrifice for the world.
A reminder of that day.
These hands, free now to worship Him.

His hands, scarred,
Lasting wounds still today.
The only human-made things in Heaven.
Reminders of that day.
Those hands freely welcome us.

And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that he was reclining at table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of ointment, and standing behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment. – Luke 7:37-38

Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last. – Luke 23:46

And he said to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. – Luke 24:38-39

(I’m portraying a Roman soldier this weekend at our church’s Christmas production. These are the thoughts I have every night during my scene…)

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