The other week during prayer, I had images come into my head, so I wrote them down. I made a little poem.
Jesus on the cross
I’m looking into His eyes
All the gruesomeness around Him, I see
His body and face are torn up
It’s ugly, bloody, and I want to turn away
But I can’t, because His eyes are locked onto mine
And those eyes are staring at me with such love
That I can’t help but be drawn close and want to be
With Him and comfort Him as He comforts me
His face is tired, His breath is ragged and shallow,
His arm twitches, His fingers are purple and white
But all around me is this love and warmth
I feel different, not bad, but different
I feel almost empty, but completely full
I know why it feels different
I’m no longer broken, I’m whole
I am clean, because His blood has washed over me
I am perfected in His love.
I hope that this leads you into deeper prayer or maybe a look at Jesus that you haven’t thought of before.