It must have been a long walk.

It started with hot, salty tears, poured out, drenching the ground, feeling forsaken by all in the world, but especially by God himself.

Must have been a long walk, the longest walk a human could know, the walk from Gethsemane to Golgotha.

Truth is, I can’t even imagine it, this walk. I try to stay away from this as much as I can in my life, this suffering, this persecution… I’d rather run on the sidelines, and throw my own rocks at the suffering and don’t really want to claim that part of Jesus.

But this is what the walk of life is framed by and underscored with… that part. The part, that he says, makes me more like himself: s-s—suffering.

Will I take it? That part? You know, the suffering part, and hold on tight to that scarred hand as we walk through fires together in this life?

I wonder… How much of his pain was physical? How much of his pain was from being forsaken by all? How much of it was being forsaken by God? Because to be forsaken by Him, wouldn’t that be the pinnacle of pain? Then, all the rest of it, all of this, the stuff of life, isn’t really how bad it could get, is it?

And as he walked, did he look with bitterness upon those who taunted and spat upon him? Was he full of spite and anger and did he lash out with hating tongue?

No. No, not this man, not the man who came to bring peace between us and God. No, not this man, the man who healed, loved, served, the man called The Prince of Peace, the very Son of God.

This man, the one who came to the world in the smallest way and left in the ugliest, I see his eyes full of love, and his tears of anguish for the languishing, hating, cursing souls around him. Such love in those eyes– and the same way he looks at me.

He breathed words of forgiveness to the very end.

The road I walk… as He asks me to carry my cross… lay down my will… bear one another’s burdens… this road I walk… does it resemble His way? Me, lowly me, who is touched by grace and longing to flee the hurt like everyone else and hurl rocks at suffering… is my image being transformed as I walk?

I can envision it …like age and time progression… something beautiful coming out of the ashes. It is a promise of transformation, of beauty and wholeness from sin. And I am on my knees in worship, humility, adoration, gratitude. It is a promise I carry with me… and one that daily carries me.

Today, I am taking a step out of my comfort zone… and writing for an opportunity to join a group of women at a conference called She Speaks…a place where women encourage one another in their faith journeys. You can read more about the conference here (at the conference site), and can submit your own entry here (at A Holy Experience).