The other day I was reading through a ton of entries in my prayer journals from the past couple years. So many pages. A lot of the same struggles.
I kept thinking, why am I still putting myself through this crap? Why can’t I just love Jesus and put everything else second?
That’s what I say I want to do. It’s what I write. What I talk about.
But if this is real…if Jesus really does want to be at the center of my life…why am I still choosing me over Him?
And then I started to notice a pattern. I realized something.
Sometimes I just need to stop and be in awe of Him again.
Jesus died an awful, ridiculous death. Church leaders arrested Him in the middle of the night, because they knew people would freak out if they knew what was happening. They didn’t even have anything to accuse Him of. Then the leader they brought Him to for “judgment” only let Jesus be killed because he was afraid of what the people over him would do. When the church leaders wanted Pilate to crucify Jesus, he couldn’t find any fault in Him. He wanted to release Him. But Pilate let the people–the very same people who had just wanted to make Jesus their king–he let them run over him with a threat to his authority. Jesus shouldn’t have had to die.
He could have called down angels. Or just suddenly all of Jerusalem could have blown up. He was God. There were a million ways He could have chosen to stop fulfilling what He was there for…but He didn’t.
This God-man let soldiers pound spikes through His flesh. Then He hung on a wooden cross, high above the crowds that had come to make fun of Him as He struggled to breathe.
Then He finally died. He finished the task He had been given.
And when He died…He died for me.
What Jesus did for me was so much more amazing than anything like physical death. Anyone could step in front of a bullet or something and sacrifice their life for mine. They’d have to love me a lot, but they could do it. But no one could do what Jesus did. He died for my sins. They’re gone now. I have a promise from Him, sealed by His blood, that I have hope. I have more than just darkness and death and hell to look forward too. I can go to Heaven.
Because Jesus died for a nasty heart like mine.
He came back to life…but my sins are still gone. Forever.
I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot about what He went through for me, with Easter coming up this weekend. And I’m realizing something.
I’m good at forgetting.
Because there’s only one thing that needs to shape everything I do. When I remember to ask myself one question…it completely changes how I think about stuff.
If I was dying, and someone saved my life, I would feel like I had gotten a whole new chance to live.
A new life.
Am I living like someone died for me?