Why

Why, Jesus, did you allow your brow to be pierced with a wreath of thorns on that dreadful morn so many years ago—a crown fashioned to mock and belittle the true King of Kings?

Why did you say nothing when they ripped your beard from your bruised and bleeding face? 

Why did you not turn and inflect punishment on those responsible for the horrific beating you endured, as you did in the temple when you whipped those that dishonored God’s house? 

Why, Lord, did you allow yourself to be smitten of men and spit upon as though you were a common criminal? 

As the nails were being driven through your hands and feet, what were the thoughts on your mind?  What caused you to hold your tongue and speak no vile uttering? You could have called ten thousand angels—why didn’t you? 

As you were hanging on that grievous cross, suspended between heaven and earth, why did you not prove to everyone around that you were the Messiah by coming off the cross?  You could have spoken the word and you would have been set free—why didn’t you? 

As you were looking into your mother’s eyes, was your heart crushed because of the tears you saw coursing down her cheeks, or was there something or someone else on your mind? 

After suffering for hours, you finally gave up the ghost.  As your side was being pierced with a spear, the questions now ceased with a final, why? 

As the silence became deafening, we hear the answer as it echoes down through the corridor of time, “I did it all for you!”

Written by,

Papa Boyd