Cold

Cold
Was it cold on the cross? Good Friday started out beautiful. Sunny. Warm enough to work outside. Then clouds blew in and it began to rain. Then snow. It got way too cold to be outside.

I thought about Jesus. This was His day on the cross. He’d been up all night. Beaten. Lied about. Probably didn’t even get any breakfast.

Then he was hauled out to Golgotha to hang on a cross. We know about the crown of thorns. The nails in his hands and feet. The soldiers gambling for His clothes—so I imagine he hung there naked. Naked in front of all who passed by or stopped to stare.

I can’t help but think, it was cold up there one the cross. Cold and lonely. He was alone you know. Not even the presence of God was with Him.

He hung there naked, alone and cold. For me. For you. For all the sin in the world.

His choice.