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When I Think of What You Did for Me

My sweet Jesus, I've been thinking about you a lot lately.  It's not that I don't think about you every day, because I do.  But it's just that in light of the season that's upon us, there are a few things I must tell you.  I wanted to make my words eloquent and greatly poised for you, but I realize you don’t care about fancy words and carefully crafted sentences.  You care about my heart and my obedience.  My willingness to follow you. My openness to your workings. 


I realize I've never said these words to you before and I’m a little nervous as to how it will all come out.  I want to say it right because words carry weight and I need you to know just how much I've thought about this. 






I cast my mind to Calvary
Where Jesus bled and died for me.
I see His wounds, His hands, His feet.
My Saviour on that cursed tree.




I try to place myself there with you on the moment you uttered the words “not my will, but yours be done” (Matthew 26:39).  I try to imagine you there in the Garden of Gethsemane, surrounded by your own creation, knowing what is to come.


I try to imagine your face as you made the decision that affected the rest of eternity.  The decision that crushed the enemy, that allows us to spend forever with you. 



Jesus, when I think of what you did for me, my heart can hardly bear it.



When I think of the betrayal you must have felt from your own men, and how it must have pained you to hear people mocking you as you proclaimed you were The King. They had already decided who you were long before they pinned you upon that cross.  Your own men turned their backs on you and denied you, and yet you continued to love them.


When I think of the burden you bore as they pushed that crown of thorns down onto your head, I can do nothing but weep. I imagine the thorns piercing your head, and tearing flesh off of your face and it sends a shiver down my spine.



When I think of the heaviness of the cross you physically carried up the hill; the hill that saw my sins taken and my freedom born, it makes my heart ache. You must have felt the relentless weight of the wood and of our sin with each gut-wrenching step.


I wince at the thought of the nails being driven into your hands.  It makes me nauseous to think of the pain you must have felt as the sharp nails pierced your skin and veins.  And it was just the beginning.



You continued through the crowd’s blasphemous claims that you were no king, no one special. You looked down with forgiveness and love towards them.


You were still ministering, still accepting followers up until the last moments.  You barely had any breath left and yet you spoke The Truth to the criminal who was hanging next to you. You were always about us and for us, even in your last moments.


When I think of how you must have felt as the sky went dark and you thought Your Father had forsaken you, I must wipe the tears away.  For it was too much for Him to bear.  He could not watch you die, He could not look upon the sin you took for us.


I think of the sour wine they held up to your mouth to help nourish you in those final moments and how those that loved you and truly knew you must have looked on in horror and felt hopeless.


I can hardly contain my tears when I think of how your mother, Mary, looked on as it all happened.  Your earthly mother, the mother that nursed you, kissed your tiny infant hands and held you close, had to watch her beloved Son take the sin of the world.  The world that rejected Him, mocked Him, and never wanted Him to be their Savior.


I try to place myself there and imagine this as it is happening and I simply can’t.  Because when I try to think of what you did for me, I can’t stomach it.  It’s too much. 


I come undone when I think of the spear that pierced your side because the guards wanted to make sure you were actually dead and that it was all over. But you had already muttered your final words, it is finished, and your mission was finally complete.  


How could you do this for us? My human mind can’t fathom it, can’t dream up the reasons for you becoming our Lamb and taking it all for us. Except that it was Your Father’s plan from the beginning.  And God is so very good and so very purposeful. 


When I play this scene over in my mind as I read through the scriptures and think of what you did for me, it just makes everything else seem so small.


It makes the desire for approval from others seem minuscule.  Because my identity is rooted in You.


It makes me want to love others better and offer more grace.  Because that it was you have shown us over and over through your life and ministry.


It makes me want you over the earthly things of this world like money, status, and social media comments.   Because the blood you shed for me is worth more than all of it combined. 


My Jesus, I can never repay you for what you did for me, for all of us.  But I can pledge my allegiance to you.  I can give my all to you by spreading the truth of the sacrifice that you gave. I can only utter these words over and over again.  


Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.



Thank you for taking my place.
Thank you for bearing my sin.
Thank you for rising again.
Thank you for being The Light among the darkness.
Thank you for being mercy and grace lived out.
Thank you for freedom.
Thank you for a personal relationship.
Thank you for your sacrifice. 
Thank you for your love.


You are The Light to the darkness. The Victor over the enemy. The Risen One. The Chosen One.  The King of Kings.  You defeated death on that wooden cross and then rose again.  (John 20).  It is an honor to be Yours. 



I love you Jesus, and because of what you did, I will spend eternity praising Your Precious Name.  



O Praise the one who paid my debt
And raised this life up from the dead!

Jesus paid it all
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain
He washed it white as snow

Jesus Paid it All 







You can read about the death of Jesus and His crucifixion in The Gospels below:

Matthew 27    Mark 15     Luke 23    John 19

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