Tears For Savior

I cried twice last week.
Once on Good Friday, once on Easter.

Maybe watching 'The Passion' makes you sick and disgusted or faint from all the violence and gore. That was how I felt the first time I watched it. So traumatized I sat and stared into the pillow for a good 5 minutes before being able to breathe normally again.

This time round, it was different.

You know, if a guy went and got himself flogged and crucified to prove his love for me, I'd say he was sick and stay far, far away. I'd take a rose on V-day and a candlelight dinner anytime.
But somehow, when Jesus does it, it's different.
But of course - he ain't just anybody.

I cried because my Savior willingly endured all that so that I don't have to live the screwed up life I was doomed to live.
I don't know what most of you hear when watching the Jesus on film being flogged and the nailed being hammered in. I know what I heard - there was this whisper in a silent corner of my soul calling out, "This is how much I love you. This is the price I am willing to pay to pursue you."

And I cried.
Because He loves me.
I'll never know the full height, depth, length and width of this everlasting love Christ has proclaimed.

As the tears rolled down my cheeks, I knew what my Savior was doing with each precious droplet. He caught them - every single one of them - with a glass vial; like a treasure, he stores them up on a shelf in heaven.
I could hear him telling the angels and heavenly hosts with pride, "You see these tears? She shed them for me. My beloved shed these tears for me."

Yes Jesus, I shed those tears for you.
I regret that I have nothing more to give than those tears as I watched you being pierced.
But if I could, to show you that I love you too, I'd cry you a river.

I'd cry you a river.