Emerson came home from the hospital Saturday afternoon with strict instructions to do nothing but walk around the house, read, and watch tv until Tuesday. With all the rain we've been having (even flooding--not our house, but up the road a bit) the grass was a foot tall in places. I knew he would be itching to get out there and get it mowed, so to relieve that itch, I took on the mowing myself.
All went well until I decided to mow the opening in the fence between our place and the neighbor's place. It used to have a gate--but we've established an "open gate" policy! :) Anyway, I nudged the mower toward the opening, knowing I couldn't go all the way thru--the mower is too wide, but thinking I could get a lot of it cut--and drove into a thorned some-kind-of-berry vine. Even though I was going slowly, my ankle was impaled with one of the thorns. I reach down and grabbed the vine and pulled it away from my leg, and I could feel the thorn pulling back out. As I watched the blood run down my ankle and pool in my flip flop, my first thought was of Jesus and the crown of thorns.
Mine was only one thorn. His was a whole crown. I can't imagine how many there were. Mine was merely pushed in to my skin. His was jammed down on his head. Mine was done only out of clumsiness or maybe stupidity. His came with the burden of all the world's sin. Mine was through fault of my own. His was done by angry people--and He had no fault. Mine did nothing more than bleed for a little while. His saved the world.
I watched "The Passion". I think everyone should see it. But this small incident was surely a much needed reminder of the price He paid for me. How can I but adore Him! I stand in awe. I am amazed in His presence. He is Holy.
Thank you, Lord, for this practical application of your Word and your Sacrifice in my life. May I always remember it.