FROM ONE SCARRED HAND TO THE OTHER:the sketches cry out.

So here I stand and try to run,to run away from all my hurt and broken heart,I try to run but she my heart she holds me back and tells me boy you ain’t no athlete,remember the days back in lower school,you tried to run but fell and panted?

So my knees they weak and I look out to friends,I count and number but getting to five is a hustle.These stay to my right and I look towards the left but O you guys were all acquaintances?No worries though with time you’ll grow but just for the meantime I hope my friends will help.

So I turn to them and share my pain and listen they do and speak up they begin.So keen and quiet unlike my early days am intent on advice and don’t relent.But then in pose I find myself,my eyes all dim and void of strength,my knees no more can hold my weight.I slump within for even they cannot,cannot get to the depths and pain I feel.

But then inside I find myself,just as have grown accustomed to.I find my heart in union and companion with another within who listens and does;He comes alive and tells me son,I have been here but you are too distracted,distracted to see that am with you.

But Sir,you’ve been here and couldn’t feel my pain,as it burned within din’t it even scotch you alittle?He holds up His right hand and tells me to be calm,to sit at His feet and to listen to Him speak.

Yes son I have been here and I know how it feels,through your pain and your sorrows I have understood every tirade and path you have had to take.You see son I also had a son that at one point out of love I knew I couldn’t keep.With my son at my right hand were these people who got lost and only He could go and find them and bring them back to me.

A debate arose in heaven because He was the most precious thing.If he was lost then the whole wealth of my realm could have run bankrupt.But my heart was set and I knew that I loved and in process I had to give.So I gave not my wife for I had non but gave my only begotten son whom I loved with all my might.I remember the pain and joy as I watched him descend from hence and down into that poor little girl’s belly.He had to be born poor and in a manger.

I watched him grow and wax beautiful but soon these people could not stand His beauty,they hated his truth and feared his love.It was too genuine they could not attain unto it.He was too kind he made their business difficult,he was too humble he made their robbery impossible and he was too fair they could not trample upon the poor in peace.

So you know what they did son?They saw His beauty worthless and that of a robber who used violence more precious than His.So they bought the robber off with the price of His stripes,the price of His lashes,the price of every blow he received.And when that high priest asked if that was enough they said no,crucify him,crucify him,he is not our king,crucify him.And at the strike of three the deal was done.The guy washed his hands for the blame was too much and he could not deal with it.

At this very point,a friend of his who understood him not and had sold him for thirty pieces realised his fault and the pain burned deep within.So in the garden of blood he din’t love his life no more for he had missed a chance at true love.He couldn’t stand to face another day and hence ended it by himself.

Even his closest student could not defend him after swearing vehemently,and at the crow of the Roost,three denials had sealed the deal.

Am sorry son but it din’t end there but tell me how much it pained me for with every betrayal of his I was betrayed,with every denial I was denied,through that night he was mocked I was mocked and in every lash the next day I was lashed.Tell me son how it felt that each blow my own son received I got the same blow and every stripe upon his back so was the same chastisement upon me.

All because I loved.So upon the tree they laid him and as he stretched one scared arm to the other,he said it was finished and he gave up his Spirit to me.And when he said it was finished,an earthquake rent the earth and the curtain of the tent tore into you so that you could come through to me for by his stripes you were thus healed.

And it is not ended there for since that moment I got me a bottle and collect every tear that you shed,every dirty mucus running down your nose I collect it in my bottle.And your tears when you cry they burn my hands and non can fall away for I have engraved you on the palm of my hands.

So son no,I have never forgotten nor forsaken you but am right here with you .To hold and console you,to teach you patience and trust and to let you learn humility right at my feet.For yes the heavens and everything therein are my throne but earth where I placed you is my foot stool.So come son sit at my feet and I will wipe away all your tears,I will comfort you and I will give the ends of the earth for your inheritance.

So son.Just as he stretched one scared arm from the east to the other on the west,I pain and hear all your cries and sorrows.I am your Father and you are my son.Come to me son.

ONE SCARRED HAND TO THE OTHER.

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