I DESERVED TO DIE I am crucified with Christ; nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ lives in me; and the live which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me. (Gal. 2:20) Two thousand years ago, I died on a Cross with Jesus. I was dead in sin. I deserved to die. The beating that Jesus took was meant for me. He was beaten to a pulp. The nails were supposed to go into my hands and hands. The spear that pierced His side was intended to pierce my heart. I was supposed to be there with the other two men. The Cross was mine to bear. The bitter cup of wrath was mine to drink. To swallow down every last drop. No matter how disgusting the taste, I knew that I had to drink it all alone. I was getting a taste of my own medicine. For my sins were disgusting to God. All of it was intended for me. I deserved to die for my sins. I should have gotten what was coming to me. My sins had earned me every stripe across His back. I deserved to drink from that cup. Gods wrath was supposed to be poured out upon my flesh like scalding oil. The punishment was mine to take. My sins demanded it. My dues: the torment of hell for my sin. I stood before the Judge, guilty as sin. I knew that I had not a snowballs chance in hell of getting off. The Judge looked at my sinful record, then looked at me with disgust. I knew that my sins repulsed Him. I stood there alone. All alone. Naked before the Judge. There was nothing about me that the Judge did not already know. I stood there trembling. Scared as hell. His eyes burned wih fiery anger toward me. I knew that I was doomed and damned. But then, a man named Jesus stepped into the Courtroom, walked up to the bench and publicly volunteered to take my place upon that Cross. He took my death sentence! Why would this innocent man do such a thing for me, a wretched, shameful, dispicable, filthy, rotten criminal? I was not worthy of such a gesture of love. All that I had done, He carried. Every bit of it. The entire weight of my sin was upon Him. He was a much stronger man than I, for I could not carry the weight of my sin myself. I was being crushed under its immensity. Still, He was bruised and crushed because of my iniquity. Today, I am thankful for that man. It should have been me. Yet, because of Jesus, I live. Not only that, but I live by the faith of that very man who, though I did not deserve it, had faith in me. I knew Him not, yet He loved me, and gave Himself in my place, so that I might life. He gave His life for me. Though, it is a debt that I could never repay, I give my life for Him. For this, I am forever grateful.
Posted on: Mon, 25 Aug 2014 07:14:32 +0000
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