Good Friday

Behold the Man

not lifted in glory

but hoisted in shame.

The Lamb, silent beneath the roar.

The Maker, torn by what He made.

The blood is real.

The thorns do not vanish

because He is divine.

Love does not flinch

from agony.

This is not theater.

This is the weight of the world

crushed into a crown

pressed down

until heaven bleeds.

He could have fled.

He could have scorched the earth

with a word.

But instead,

He stays

heart steady,

hands open,

eyes full of us.

Here is the wrath of God

spent

on God.

Here is justice

drenched in mercy.

Here is love

naked and nailed

and still

loving.

We do not deserve this.

We cannot repay this.

We can only

behold

and be broken

and be healed

all at once.