Christamplified
02-27-2008, 01:29 AM
http://bp2.blogger.com/_8Ve6QZb8gAg/R6IV9lAY-RI/AAAAAAAAABg/bKVsOSTxt3Y/S220/Cross%The battered man stumbles down the dirt road leading to his appointment with death. “I can help you,” a voice pleads with him.
“I can do this,” the man returns.
Bruised and badly beaten the man’s knees tremble under his burden. He falters and falls, his load slamming into him with an emphatic exclamation point.
“Please let me help you,” the voice again implores.
“I can do this!”
On hands and knees the man embraces the splintery cargo. His whole body shakes as once again he slowly rises to heave the wooden load upon his bleeding back.
“Let me give you a hand with that,” the persistent says.
“Leave me alone.”
Up the steep mud entrenched hill the man trudges. A mass of spectators and jeerers joins the man in his journey.
“You cannot do this,” the voice strains above the crowd.
“I must.”
And so the man finally reaches the crest of the hill. The crossed beams are thrown down and the man falls upon them exhausted. The crowd cheers, mocking his effort.Other unfortunate souls share the man’s plight. They are already being fastened to their trees with nine inches of spiked metal. The man looks at their faces contorted with pain and shudders.
“Your turn is coming” a giant of a soldier derides the man.
Death whispers his name on the windy hilltop. David has made his choice. He chose death and death will not be cheated. Blood spurts from the wrists of one unlucky woman and spatters into his right eye and mouth. He can taste death now. He tries to wrestle free from the strong grip of the giant, but he is too weak to struggle much. Panic engulfs his brain. He tries to scream, but only succeeds in earning a violent kick to his ribs.
“Am I really going to die!” David cries.
“Yes,” the voice comes back, “Yes, you are going to die.”
The soldier places him on the cross and none to gentle. David writhes in agony as splinters find their home in his bared strips of flesh.
“You don’t have to do this,” the voice pleads.
I can feel the point of the nail upon my wrist. I look into the face of the soldier raising the hammer, the judge’s anvil one might say. My sin has a price demanded and someone must pay it. The cruel twisted smile upon the soldier’s face looks more like a demon’s then a man’s.
“Wait!” I scream, “I don’t want to go through with this.”
The demon laughs.
“Help me Jesus…” through sobs I repent, “I’m a sinner and I deserve to die, but please help me. I can’t do this on my own. Please forgive me God.”
The voice of God now becomes flesh.
“I will take his place,” he gently speaks.
The twisted grin becomes a look of malice. The soldier is indeed the very real Satan incarnate.
“You really want to go through this again,” he snarls at Jesus.
Christ takes my hand and with the greatest eyes of compassion I have ever seen lifts me from the cross, my cross. To Satan he stretches out his arms and says, “I would die again for all of them.”
I can still remember the day when Christ took my cross and the punishment for my sin and suffered a criminal’s tortured end. I can still hear the echo of metal on metal as I remember the nail being driven into my savior’s hands and feet. I can still see the look of love through anguished eyes as he said to me, “I will take his place.” I can see the stream of blood pool at the foot of the cross, my cross.
The blood still flows down that wooden cross and Calvary’s hill to the altar where I gave up my struggle.
How many sinners think they can pay the price? I did. Through good works, or stubborn pride, we try to save ourselves. Many will ignore the work of Christ on the cross in the end and will pay death’s penalty. Oh, but Jesus is stretching out his arms to you! Put down that cross you are toting and let your redeemer take your place. He wants to save you!
“I can do this,” the man returns.
Bruised and badly beaten the man’s knees tremble under his burden. He falters and falls, his load slamming into him with an emphatic exclamation point.
“Please let me help you,” the voice again implores.
“I can do this!”
On hands and knees the man embraces the splintery cargo. His whole body shakes as once again he slowly rises to heave the wooden load upon his bleeding back.
“Let me give you a hand with that,” the persistent says.
“Leave me alone.”
Up the steep mud entrenched hill the man trudges. A mass of spectators and jeerers joins the man in his journey.
“You cannot do this,” the voice strains above the crowd.
“I must.”
And so the man finally reaches the crest of the hill. The crossed beams are thrown down and the man falls upon them exhausted. The crowd cheers, mocking his effort.Other unfortunate souls share the man’s plight. They are already being fastened to their trees with nine inches of spiked metal. The man looks at their faces contorted with pain and shudders.
“Your turn is coming” a giant of a soldier derides the man.
Death whispers his name on the windy hilltop. David has made his choice. He chose death and death will not be cheated. Blood spurts from the wrists of one unlucky woman and spatters into his right eye and mouth. He can taste death now. He tries to wrestle free from the strong grip of the giant, but he is too weak to struggle much. Panic engulfs his brain. He tries to scream, but only succeeds in earning a violent kick to his ribs.
“Am I really going to die!” David cries.
“Yes,” the voice comes back, “Yes, you are going to die.”
The soldier places him on the cross and none to gentle. David writhes in agony as splinters find their home in his bared strips of flesh.
“You don’t have to do this,” the voice pleads.
I can feel the point of the nail upon my wrist. I look into the face of the soldier raising the hammer, the judge’s anvil one might say. My sin has a price demanded and someone must pay it. The cruel twisted smile upon the soldier’s face looks more like a demon’s then a man’s.
“Wait!” I scream, “I don’t want to go through with this.”
The demon laughs.
“Help me Jesus…” through sobs I repent, “I’m a sinner and I deserve to die, but please help me. I can’t do this on my own. Please forgive me God.”
The voice of God now becomes flesh.
“I will take his place,” he gently speaks.
The twisted grin becomes a look of malice. The soldier is indeed the very real Satan incarnate.
“You really want to go through this again,” he snarls at Jesus.
Christ takes my hand and with the greatest eyes of compassion I have ever seen lifts me from the cross, my cross. To Satan he stretches out his arms and says, “I would die again for all of them.”
I can still remember the day when Christ took my cross and the punishment for my sin and suffered a criminal’s tortured end. I can still hear the echo of metal on metal as I remember the nail being driven into my savior’s hands and feet. I can still see the look of love through anguished eyes as he said to me, “I will take his place.” I can see the stream of blood pool at the foot of the cross, my cross.
The blood still flows down that wooden cross and Calvary’s hill to the altar where I gave up my struggle.
How many sinners think they can pay the price? I did. Through good works, or stubborn pride, we try to save ourselves. Many will ignore the work of Christ on the cross in the end and will pay death’s penalty. Oh, but Jesus is stretching out his arms to you! Put down that cross you are toting and let your redeemer take your place. He wants to save you!