Why I Believe What I Believe

{Written by Bethany Ann} 

Note: It was planned for my article to post tomorrow, but since today is Valentine's Day, I thought it would serve as a tribute to my Lord. So I am posting it today with the hopes that it will inspire and encourage you.

It was a cold dark night. The wind was howling crazily as if it knew death were near. The whole town seemed to know it. I was coming home from the market and saw a crowd gathered and shouting wildly. The town never does this for just any occasion so I went closer to see what all the fuss was about. When I came close, I heard the grunts of a man in pain, and the soldiers mocking words, harsh slaps and stinging marks were matched with this mans pain. I realized they were probably getting ready to kill a criminal, a common thing, though a harsh one at that. But no matter the regulatory of it, when I looked at the man on the floor shrieking in pain I felt pity. The soldiers spit at him, tied a cloth around his eyes so he wouldn't see and slapped him asking if he were God to tell them who slapped him. I thought it rather harsh as they hit him hard. With each pound of the arm, kick of the foot upon his back, each moan of pain, I felt sorry. Then they struck him in the head with huge clubs. They did it over and over and over. Each hit being harder, causing a bigger wound on his head, making more blood flow down his face. Oh, the look on his face was horrid. He did not speak nor did he fight back. He simply stood there and let them crush him. When they took the so called "crown" which they had twisted from the longest thorns and crammed it on his face I thought I would faint. So much blood, so long thorns...the sight of it made me vomit. When I finally composed myself they had finished. I hoped that for the poor mans sake they were finished, but no. They took him and beat him. With each crack of the whip there was a new stripe on his back...the stripes grew in number, often over-crossing the other. They tore his back and I knew I couldn't stand it. The roman whips were made to have hook like material at the end of the whip so that it would pierce the skin and rip it when it was pulled and released to repeat the injustice. After so many lashes his back was all bloody and raw...practically torn. That combined with what they did to his face, to his head...oh how could anyone live under such pain? I noticed the man did not speak through it all. Most times the criminals curse and try to get away or yell out in pain when the whip comes down. But not this man, he seemed to know he had to endure it without speaking, without retreating. What misery he must have felt...what pain...what humiliation to be treated as such before the crowd. 

     

After they beat him, his body looked horrid. How he was held together, I do not know. They gave him a heave wooden cross they size of himself and expected him to carry it uphill to the place were they were going to crucify him. He would barely move, so a kind man helped him bear the weight but I know it was still miserable. The poor man had the pain written all over his face...with each step he seemed to drain the life out of him. With each breath he seemed to bear the world on his shoulders. For he was bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders. Once they got up the hill they laid the cross down and then him on top of it. He knew what was coming and so did everyone else. They took a nail and used a heavy hammer to drive it through his hands and into the cross. With each pounding of the hammer, the nail when through more and more. The pain was intense. After one nail was through his hand, they  did it to the other hand, and then to his feet. They raised the cross up and with as his body clung to the wood...all the wight of his body bore down on his hands and feet and the skin tore under the weight of the nails. They had taken his garments and gambled for them....they misery, the pain, the shame was a higher level than possible and it was so intense it was indescribable. Simply harsh. Simply unjust. Simply horrid. Simply overbearing. Simply unimaginable. Simply cruel. What else is there to say? The circumstance did not have a just word to describe it. There is no word to describe the pain he felt or the shame he bore. No word to perfectly describe the humiliation, the fear, the heartlessness. Not one word even comes close so how can we properly define it?

He stood there...all alone. They continued to treat him cruelty yet he kept his cool and suffered without speaking or cursing as the others normally do. He bore it wholly and completely and with such courage. But then he looked up. He looked at me in the eye and it look took my breath away.
He seemed to say "I love you" it said a thousand other things too, it said "You are mine" it said "You are treasured" it said "For you I suffer, in your place I hang. My hands took the nails for you so you didn't have to. I've bared the shame for you. I've born the humiliation and cruelty. I took that sword for you. For you those lashes dug into my skin. For you. All for you. Because I love you with an everlasting love. Because I want you to live with me forever in Heaven. Because I love you. I love you so much that I'm bearing this for you. You are the sinner and should die. I am the  perfect one who has chosen to take your place. Even if you were the only one in the world...still I would do it for you. Only for one person would I do it. Even though you are a sinner and have rejected me completed. I still am doing it for you. I love you and my love overflows even more than my blood does. With every last lash on my back, my love is multiplied for you a hundred, thousand times over and more. With every thorn in my crown I love you a million billion times. I love you." I couldn't look up. Sobs shook my body and I couldn't do anything about it. I've never felt so loved ,so treasured...I realized that he did it for me. All for me. He loves me that much! I couldn't comprehend it...such depth was too much for my brain to carry. Ever since then I knew He loved me, and because of it my life has never been the same. I've started to live for Him. I've given Him my life...He gave me His at such a price...what am I do do anything less than give Him mine,  be it small, in return? As He breathed his last He looked at me again. He smiled at me and after that He died. 

     I was in a trauma. So much to cover...so much to go through. How could I? Would I ever be the same? But my life was filled to the overflowing. Just knowing the price He paid made my "problems" seem like ants compared to that of the whole world. Knowing His depth of love for me made all my sorrows bearable. Knowing He was bearing them, and had born them for me already." This is why I live", I whispered to myself, "this is why I am who I am." This is why my life is not only livable but a joy, a blessing! To be able to pray to the Lord and the ability to read his Words over and over each day...what a privileged! What a sacrifice he paid...it will never cease to amaze me or stop blowing my mind. Is such love found anywhere else? Is such commitment ever found? Can such fulfillment be possible? Can one person be so special to one? Can such worth be comprehended? Can such be grasped? All I know it that whatever comes, I can face it with His help. With Him all is possible. With Him all fear is gone. With Him such joy is found. With Him such fulfillment is found. With him all seems new. With Him life is a joy. Knowing He is there, with arms wide open ready to brush away my tears and bear whatever I'm going through with me...such words cannot be found. Just knowing He loves me...now and forever...no matter what I do, no matter how I act towards Him. Oh, that life my life was changed. Because He rose from the dead I'm never to be the same. My life will NEVER be the same.

~*~*~*~

So now that my life has changed. I am changed. I am new. I used to be a sinner, a horrid wretched sinner. But now, oh, now Jesus I tell you that...

   

Now that I've got Jesus...

I am free from sin. I am living for Jesus. Now when I'm worried or afraid or don't know what to do I don't look to the "keep calm and carry on" theme...here is my theme...

When I don't have it all together {which I don't} I find my real need for Him. He uses those things to draw me closer to Him. How else can I know His perfect love if He doesn't have a chance to show it to me?  Through this I am found:

Now that I'm saved. My life is lived for Him. I don't always live up to that standard but I try my hardest. When I fail ,I recommit myself to these words:

I say this and mean it:

This is my comfort in times of trails and times of fear:

I cry out: 

It's true:

So I will strive to:

How can I walk by faith and not by sight? I'll tell you how...this hand leads me...

So what do I believe? I believe this:

Oh Jesus. Thank you for your love!