The treasure of my heart.

To finish Father’s Day centered around our faith, we watched the way of the cross and crucifixion scene from The Bible series as a family. 

Oh, the compassion in my Saviour’s eyes. A crown of thorns–real thorns–was thrust into His head; sheer agony. Whipped again and again and again and again–pain on pain. A kiss of His placed on the cross He carried–us in mind, the Father’s glory ahead. “Do not be afraid” uttered to His mother as she followed down the Via Dolorosa–the way of pain, the way of the cross. Nails piercing His sweet flesh–that flesh, incarnate and sinless. The curtain that not only carried its own weight but the weight of symbolism–torn, as the Saviour became our life-way and access to the Most High. The blood dripping–precious blood by which we are healed, saved, redeemed. 

My, how I take my salvation so lightly so often. May that not be so as I consider these things. May I wake up and preach the gospel to myself every morning–a sinner, saved, called, made holy. Jesus, you are the treasure of my heart. 

 

[Jesus’ view of the Eastern Gate from the Garden of Gethsemane in Jerusalem] 

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