Show of hands. Who here has been impaled by a sharp object.
Oh, many of you. Me too. Quite a few times, but one time in particular stands out in memory because I hadn’t listened. My dad had told me to always wear closed toe shoes when on a construction site, and I always did. But this time our house was the site and I was sick of boots, it was summer and very hot. I figured out a loop hole in the rule. I wore crocks. Now I love crocks so please no rude comments. We all know that they have holes in them. Guess what? An armload of loose equipment for the saw and one drops through the hole in my shoe. I go yikes, pull it out and keep moving, until I slip on my own blood which had filled the shoe. The tool that had gone through my shoe had stuck so deep in my foot that the pain was delayed so I didn’t know how bad it was. It was bad.

Because we didn’t listen to God Jesus had to come to earth and have tools driven into His wrists and feet. Spikes to be exact. I doubt His pain was delayed. His agony was very clear and very much our fault. Our disobedience caused it. We bought an old farm. Hence the renos. We have found many things in the dirt. Railway ties and spikes being some of them. It was an old switch house. Those spikes are probably similar to the ones they used on Jesus. I dropped one on my foot once. It hurt. A lot. I can’t imagine having those hammered into my flesh. Agony.
Jesus did that for us. That is true love.

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