He looked at me.

There hung upon a wooden cross

He looks down at me

Not down on me

But into my eyes.

His eyes blurred with the sweat and blood from the thorns that pierced his head,

Fatigued from loss of life

 And

In excruciating pain,

He looked at me.

His hands open, His raw and naked body exposed for all to see,

He looked at me.

In pure anguish,

He looked at me.

Into my soul His brown eyes penetrated my very being at the center of all that I am

And

 He spoke not an audible word

But

I heard everything in His eyes.

There mixed with sweat and pain He was open

To love,

To hurt,

To all who would rebuke Him

For centuries to come.

He was not just open to those women, who wept,

And

Wailed for their children

But

Also for the soldiers

That hung Him upon this wooden cross,

This human death.

His eyes showed me only

Compassion,

Empathy,

Forgiveness

And

Understanding

For those who physically tortured

And

Killed Him.

He held only love in the agony

And

Then we all heard Him

Give up His spirit to God:

Death to the Son of God,

Real death upon a tree,

The death penalty for God.

He died right there before my eyes.

But before He closed His eyes to this world I locked eyes with His

And

He read my soul and gave me the opportunity to love Him

And

This I do every time I forgive another,

Anytime I love unconditionally,

Every time I witness God’s love in another person.

I locked eyes with Jesus Christ upon that cross in Calvary today

And

He loved me from across the centuries

And

Across the heavens right here

And

Now into my soul.

He looked at me.