I got up this morning after not enough sleep, made my coffee and sat down in front of the crucifixion. The story is familiar and strange, breathtaking and gut wrenching. Bloody and beautiful.

It is His story and it is mine, but we see it through different eyes.

“But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail.”

He sees prayer. I see betrayal.

“Jesus replied, ‘Do what you came for, friend.'”

He sees a friend. I see an enemy. A traitor.  

“Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid. Go and tell My brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see Me.’”

He sees brothers. I see deserters and cowards.

His story and mine, all tangled together. I am the one He came to save and He is the One who came to save me. I had sin, He had blood and now there is blood where there used to be sin. Our stories dance together and look nothing alike.

His eyes and mine see it all so differently.

I see sinner, He sees daughter.

I see shame He sees the cross.

Seen through different eyes, our stories come together and it’s Friday. We meet at Golgotha, each bringing what is needed to the cross.

My nails, His hands. My sin, His blood. My anger, His love. My weakness, His strength. His provision, my need. His death, my life.

His story and mine all tangled together

in a beautiful bloody kind of way.

I will never be the same. He will never change.

It’s a Good Friday.

Luke 22:31; Matthew 26:50; Matthew 26:56; Matthew 28:10