Finishing nails.

Last night my husband & I were walking through the hardware store shopping for some special screws & brackets for the kids new headboards. It’s been years really since I’ve made my way through one of those places. I used to know the layout like the back of my hand and could get in and out in no time, but this time…not so much. We were wandering around. Up & down aisles, looking for these little L brackets and the right sized wood screws.

As we walked the aisle of ‘metal fasteners’, I was struck by the sizes of some of those screws! They looked like something that would be used to build a bridge more than some honey-do project around the house! (I’m SO going to have a ridiculous amount of spam in my comment queue. I know it.)

I was a long ways off from finding the little wood screws I needed for the kids furniture, but I just stood there staring: bin after bin of these massive screws.

And then it occurred to me. When Jesus died on the cross, the nails used could not have been finished so well. They were probably bigger. And as I looked at these things, many times larger than the size of one of my own fingers, I thought about it going through His wrists. Through His feet. Sharper maybe? More jagged? Larger than anything the Depot had to offer.

He did this for me? You know I welled up right there in the screw aisle at Home Depot.

He did this for me.

I grew up in church with this cartoon-like image of Jesus on the Cross between two robbers. The line drawing of the crown of thorns on His head. Polka dots on his hands and feet with a little red dripping down. Its a very edited image, appropriate for children…and until this year, it has remained exactly so in my mind, safe for me as an adult too. Distant and cartoonish to boot.

There’s this song at church that we sing and it always catches me right in the throat. I can hardly sing the words. Because it paints a different picture for me – a beautiful one, of His sacrifice and His love for me. Even when I go through bouts of running and pushing and hiding, (much like my own 5 & 6 year old girls from me some days), He loves me still. He knows my anxious thoughts. And I long for Him more. It really is a relationship. And most days, I nurture more relationships via email or on facebook and myspace than I do with Him. And He took the big ole jaggedy spikes for me. Nothing as pretty as what I saw at the store.

Freedom. The KING of Glory POURED OUT. Rescue! These are the words I choose to consider first. Maybe with time, the cartoon image will go away as the reality of my rescue rests on my heart.

I never knew death could be so sweet
I never knew surrender could feel so free
I never seen such meekness in majesty
That the blood of Jesus was bled for me

And now I sing freedom for all my days
It’s only by the power of the cross I’m raised
The King of Glory rescued me

How beautiful the blood flow
How merciful the love show
The King glory poured out
Victorious, I’m weeping

Never knew through these nails would love unfold
And never knew these wounds would heal my soul
I’ve never seen such beauty and sorrow meet
The blood of Jesus was bled for me

Beautiful the Blood – Steve Fee

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~ by hthr on June 27, 2008.

One Response to “Finishing nails.”

  1. Thank you for sharing this! Funny how God can use the depot to speak to us!

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