It dripped from his feet, drops of blood onto the hard, beaten, unforgiving ground.
My eyes blurred by the tears, my heart ripped open, and raw by the anguish in my soul.
There he hung and I could not save him.
There he hung for my shame, my sins, and my choices.
I could see the outline of his muscles, the skin torn from his knees where he had fallen, the blood dried upon his feet where the nails had been driven.
I could not release him.
I could not relieve his human suffering.
I could not stop this crucifixion.
I sat helpless, hopeless and guilt ridden with his blood on my hands.
Yet, when I looked into his eyes he did not cast me off, punish, or demean me.
Instead he loved me; all of me, my transgressions, my poor choices, and my humanity.
In his eyes he said, “I will take this for you because I love you.”
He expected nothing in return and in that moment that exchange I learned how to truly love.
Beneath the feet of Jesus Christ on that Good Friday I loved.
Copyright 2015 Lori Hadorn-Disselkamp