Can We Handle the Truth?

Today's blog post is inspired by a post I saw on a friends Facebook timeline. He had shared it from a FB Page, called "The Revival". The script has always been one that pierces me because of how many times I've ran across people who think wrongly of how the savior of the world was crucified. Every time, I always think, "If they only knew!"

So, today, I'm sharing a modified version of the post (I've taken some of it away, and added some to it), so as to make anyone aware, that truly wants to know, the reality of the cross of Jesus Christ. It's not what many have chosen to believe, simply because of what they've read, and what they've not read. Please grab a coffee, or whatever drink helps you relax, take a couple of minutes and read. WARNING: You may experience some discomfort...

Scientific Death of Jesus:

At the age of 33, Jesus was condemned to death.

At the time, crucifixion was the "worst" death. Only the worst criminals were condemned to be crucified. Yet it was even more dreadful for Jesus. Unlike other criminals condemned to death by crucifixion, Jesus was to be nailed to the cross by His hands and feet.

Each nail was 6 to 8 inches long.

The nails were driven into His wrist, not into His palms as is commonly portrayed. Had they been driven into his hands, the weight of his body would have caused the nails to tear out between his fingers and would release him from the tree. The nails had to be placed where they could not rip through the hand. The wrist was the perfect place. Also, there's a tendon in the wrist that extends to the shoulder. The Roman guards knew that when the nails were being hammered into the wrist, that tendon would tear and break, forcing Jesus to use His back muscles to support Himself so that He could breathe.

Both of His feet were nailed together. Thus He was forced to support Himself on the single nail that impaled His feet to the cross. Jesus could not support Himself with His legs because of the pain so He was forced to alternate between arching His back then using His legs just to continue to breathe. Imagine the struggle, the pain, the suffering, the courage.

Jesus endured this reality for over 3 hours.

Yes, over 3 hours! Can you imagine this kind of suffering? A few minutes before He died, Jesus stopped bleeding. He was simply pouring water from his wounds.

From common images we see wounds to His hands and feet and even the spear wound to His side... But do we realize His wounds were actually made in his body. A hammer driving large nails through the wrist, the feet overlapped and an even larger nail hammered through the arches, then a Roman guard piercing His side with a spear. But before the nails and the spear, Jesus was whipped and beaten. The whipping was so severe that it tore the flesh from His body. The beating so horrific that His face was torn and his beard ripped from His face. He was unrecognizable. The crown of thorns cut deeply into His scalp. Most men would not have survived this torture. And...he carried the cross he was to hang on, after the beating!

After hanging for 3 hours, he had no more blood to bleed out, only water poured from His wounds. The human adult body contains about 3.5 liters (just less than a gallon) of blood.

Jesus poured all 3.5 liters of his blood; He had three nails hammered into His members; a crown of thorns on His head and, beyond that, a Roman soldier who stabbed a spear into His chest..

All these without mentioning the humiliation He suffered after carrying His own cross for 1 1/4 miles (approximately), while the crowd spat in his face and threw stones. The cross was almost 67 pounds (only for its higher part), where His hands were to be nailed.

Jesus had to endure this experience, to open the gates of Heaven, so that you and I can have free access to God. He gave all of himself for me. For you. How can we refuse the unconditional love He offers?

I think it might be simply because we have never experienced anything so selfless, it causes us to wonder if it’s only a fairy tale.

As someone who has walked on both sides of dark and light, I assure you, God’s sacrifice for us is no fairy tale. It is indeed, very real. Once you experience it, there is no denying it...

As always, here you will find me...in Mary's World

Tangled Memories

Most of you that know me, know by now that I decided to face my fears and begin the journey toward health around the first part of June. Not that I've been sick. All my life I have been a very healthy person. Some would say my mental health was in question, but not I. Of course not. *wink *wink. But with doctors orders and strong encouragement from my girls, I finally faced the fear of being alone while simply walking down a lonely, empty, street.

The last couple of mornings the temps have been in the low-mid 40's. Soooooo awesome!!! Especially if you are one that takes early morning walks every day. The summer temps were challenging, to say the least, but I never deny a challenge, so walk I did. Which made these Fall temps embraced without resistance. 

Today, as my legs began to feel numb, and my toes felt as if they were freezing together, I was reminded of a time that was so very long ago. It was during my childhood years when we were outside much of the morning hours AND early evening hours during the winter months, tending to the herd of cows, horses, and pigs. Mom, and a couple of my sisters tended to the chickens and the 2 dogs, along with all the house hold chores. I was so envious of them, since they were allowed time with mom and the types of chores she tended to. I did get to spend a little time with her during the summer days, by helping plant and harvest a very large garden full of everything needed to sustain life, and we gathered eggs after feeding the chickens, and slopping the pigs, while my brothers tended to the hay field and helped out at the sawmill. Most of my time, however, was spent helping dad and doing chores that I felt were meant for humans much stronger than myself. As I got a bit older, like maybe 9 or 10, my mind didn't change about that. That was when I "got" to go to the sawmill and either doodle sawdust or tend to the cut-off lumber pile. Some days, I even went to the log woods to help fell trees and get them loaded onto the back of our flatbed trailer. Maybe that is why my upper torso is so solid with large biceps and a thick chest cavity. 

During the winter months, I would wear 3 pair of jeans (one over the other) and 3 pair of socks that helped my feet not only fill oversized shoes, but also kept frostbite away. Protection was needed for the hours we had to spend in the cold weather that a small person should never have been required to (just my opinion...probably Mom's too). But we did survive. All of us. Even though I'm pretty sure there were times we wondered if we would.

One of the things I remember, as if it were yesterday, was when we finally made it back to the house and began the thawing out process. We had a large pot bellied wood stove that stood in the living room, meant to heat the whole house. It didn't, but at least we were out of the elements. My memory is the pain I felt while getting out of my boots shoes, and socks so that I could warm up next to the fire. Once the attire was removed, my stiff, frozen feet slid ever so gently next to the stove. My toes (all of them) were always so cold they were stuck together. The pain was significant as they thawed. It hurt so very much, but as the blood began to circulate to the tips, the pain became bearable until it was completely gone. That was my memory today as I walked in 42 degree weather, which is much warmer than my barnyard days. Still, it caused the memory of just how much worse it could be.

Filtering through memories, here you will find me...in Mary's World