He chose the nails


Watch as the soldiers shove the Carpenter to the ground and stretch His arms against the beams. One presses a knee against a forearm and a spike against a hand. Jesus turns His face toward the nail and just as the soldier lifts the hammer to strike it.

Couldn’t Jesus have stopped him?

The mallet rings, the skin rips, and the blood begins to drip, then rush. Why didn’t Jesus resist?

“Because He loved us”, we reply. That is true, wonderfully true – but forgive me – it’s only partially true. As the soldier pressed his arm, Jesus rolled His head to the side, and with cheek resting on the wood He saw a list, a long list. A list of our mistakes: our lusts, our lies, our greedy moments and prodigal years. He saw a record of our sins, a tabulation of our false – that’s why He refused to close His fist.

He saw the list.

He knew the price of those sins was death, he knew the source of those sins was you, and since He couldn’t bear the thought of eternity without you – He chose the nails.

Your failures are blotted out, covered by the blood of God’s son. That is why Jesus did not resist. The nails were God’s idea. The hand that swung the hammer, was the hand of God; and as the hands of Jesus opened for the nails, the doors of Heaven opened for you.

He Chose the Nails – Max Lucado



Published by fuzz

I've finally relented to the lures of blogging - and for those who care, well, I'm a self-confessed geek who's a wanderer at heart, who thinks and analyses too much, and who's trying hard to hold on to his 7-year old inner persona.

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