The Sadness That Didn't Belong to Me.

Alone in the kitchen at half-past ten, I was crying out my eyes, the tears long past control, when the thought came piercing through--

I wish I could take all their pain. Bear it myself so they wouldn't have to. So they wouldn't have to.

And then His voice, so quickly after--the clear, deep stroke of thunder following lightning's flash--

I already did.

My heart that night was the heart of the Father. The anguish I felt for the ones I loved, His anguish. And how much more He must feel--to have borne the pain of our sins on His body on the tree, so we wouldn't have to--and then to watch as we reject that gift daily, to walk in the curse instead of freedom, to walk in death instead of victory. I believe He watches, and weeps, with a heart infinitely more broken than mine as He calls--

I took all your pain. Bore it Myself so you wouldn't have to. So you wouldn't have to.