Splinters from the Cross:
Here I sit once again, trying to sort out the
That nagging feeling has been chewing away at me,
little by little, piece by piece, until nothing is left but
raw, irritated nerves.
As always, I cry out to my Savior, my Lord, my God,
tired, with desperation in my voice:
"Jesus, I can't take this lonely road again.
I've walked it so many times before yet it leads me
I swallowed the words but the thoughts numbed my brain
as they drudged on unharnessed...
nowhere but to the end of my emotions - to the void;
that immense gulf of painfully cold blackness.
"My child," He called softly.
"How is it that you still don't trust Me?"
His voice was warm and deep.
"Lift your eyes to Mine."
And with that He gently placed His hand beneath my chin
and brought my face opposite His.
Looking into His eyes I saw something I'd never seen
There, a single tear swelled and spilled over His dark
and down His smooth olive skin.
First one, then another.
His heart was breaking for me.
I lifted my hand to wipe the tears from His cheek, pausing
caress the precious face of my Jesus.
Then He took my hand gently into His own.
I winced as my fingers touched the scar.
He cupped His other hand over mine and with a pat of
reassurance, in that same soothing voice, said,
"Follow Me. There is nothing to fear."
With that He let go of my hand and turned and walked
There before Him I saw that road - just as I'd always seen
But this time, Jesus walked ahead of me.
I knew I had to follow. The road was long and winding.
It was narrow and rocky. The incline sharp and steady.
My feet were heavy and each step became harder to take.
I slowed to a crawl, but Jesus kept His pace and soon was
far ahead of me, out of sight.
It seemed as though hours had passed as I neared the end
of the road.
But my heart was full of anticipation.
I knew my Lord would be waiting for me, arms opened
just around the next corner.
I wouldn't have to face the void alone this time.
Filthy, exhausted and out of breath I finally reached the
As I rounded the last corner I couldn't believe my
Shocked and horrified a cry of agony filled my lungs as I
to my knees ... "Nooooooooo!"
There before me hung my precious Jesus, once again nailed
upon the tree.
His skin hung in ribbons. Blood flowed freely down that
smooth olive face as the thorns dug deep into His skull.
There at the foot of the cross I wept, and once again I
into His face.
"Why?" I asked Him pleadingly. "Why did You do this for me?"
He pushed Himself up on the nail in His feet and gasped a
I didn't expect.
"The question, My child, is not why, but what now?
What will you do with Me now?"
"I don't know what You mean," I sobbed.
"What choices do I have?"
Then there appeared next to me a large bucket, filled with
a lifetime of atrocities.
The stench was sickening, more hideous than anything I'd
ever experienced before.
It was all I could do not to wretch at the sight of it.
I looked again to the mutilated figure on the cross
my head, I pleaded, "I just don't understand."
Again He put all His weight on His feet and
spoke in painful
"Throw it on Me."
"No!" I screamed. "I can't! I don't
understand, my Lord,
please help me understand!"
I continued frantically. "You've already taken
why must You do it again?"
"These aren't your sins , My child, but the
sins of the ones
"You mean, the ones who hurt me," I said
It was more of a statement than a question.
"But You've already taken their sins too; why
must You do
"My precious child," He spoke lovingly.
"Each time you seek them out you drive the
nails into Me
all over again.
Until you let go of the past, until you forgive
them, I will hang
here suspended in agony."
With that I grabbed the bucket and flung it as
hard as I could
away from my Savior into the void beyond the
Then I threw myself at the foot of that tree.
There I clung with all my might, sobbing
"I forgive them," I cried. "I forgive them!"
An angel came at that moment and
released my sweet Jesus
and the two of them soon disappeared from
I released my painful grip of the cross
and pulled myself to
I looked at my own hands and forearms, and again I gazed
There, deeply embedded in my hands and arms, were splinters
from the cross.
As I pulled each of the shards from my own soft
wounds immediately began to heal.
Then, in a moment, the blackness of the void
by the glorious light of the Son of God.
I was free!