valleyofvision:

I am carrying a cross. My spirit is bloodied and broken, torn apart by the sin that engulfs the burden on my back. 

I fall over on my face. This weight is crushing me. I can no longer see what it is I am running after. It was so good, but it kept tearing off bits and pieces of me and now there is barely nothing left. I cannot hold this mountain on my back. This is all in vain. I am nothing. 

But there is a man walking toward me on this dirt road that smells of the toils of the starving and the wounded. He is covered in blood. His hands are pierced and his ribs are torn open. He is limping. I cannot make out his face because he is so beaten, so bloody, so bruised. My name is carved into his chest. 

He picks the mountain up off my back and puts it on his. He leans in close to me. I can see every line on his bloody face. His eyes are swollen. He can barely talk. He says three words: “you are mine,” and I swear I saw him smile.  

He says those words over and over again. He stands me up and wraps his arm around me. We walk. 

We are walking. I am silent.

I was lost, alone, and dead. And this beaten and bloody man bore my burden. 

I am speechless, restless, awestruck. 

And he is still smiling. I don’t think he will ever stop smiling. 

OHHHHSHOOOOOT AMEN :’)!!!