I didn’t know how much I longed for Him.

How the words I have read so many times of His scourging, His humiliation, His crucifixion, His burial, are more than words. More than history. They encapsulate me. My sin. My anger. My rage.

That evening He asked me to lay it all before Him. To crawl on my knees to Him. And kiss the wounds I caused. I created. I inflicted.

A single night was all God needed to draw me to Him. To weep before Him. To finally love Him.

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