This past Sunday, our Bible readings included the portion of scripture where the crowd shouts, "Crucify Him!" The congregation was to read that part, but I just couldn't bring myself to say the words. Even though I knew my sins were heaped upon His head, I simply couldn't utter the words. I sat there and softly cried instead.
After the sermon, we were instructed to come forward and each take three nails to remind us of our sin and God's mercy. As I held these nails in my hands during the remainder of the service, I noticed my hands slowly turning grey. The nails were staining my hands. Even though I hadn't been able to bring myself to join in on the words condemning Jesus to death, I had the remnants of His suffering on my hands anyway.
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