“All the people answered, Let His blood be on us and on our children!” Matthew 27:25

dsc01277-1.jpgThe case was closed.

Droplets of water still remained on Pilot’s fingers, representing what he believed to be his innocence. What he didn’t know was, they were but tiny tokens of his guilt. Like a lamb being led to the slaughter, the Son of God, battered and bloody, was led up a steep path to the rugged place called Golgatha.

As the hammer fell on the spikes that pierced through His flesh, it echoed through the rugged countryside. Like a gavel it resounded the cry of all the people, “His Blood be on us and on our children… us and our children… our children!”

The cross was raised, a striking emblem that mocked the sky. As His blood dripped to the ground, guilt settled on all the world. Pilot was guilty. The mob was guilty. Their children were guilty.

It continues to trickle down an unending sphere, touching every soul that is ever born with the curse of guilt.

The fact is we’re all guilty. Guilty of our own waywardness, guilty of breaking the law of God, guilty for the death of His Son.

But in the crimson stain at the foot of the cross, love grew. The verdict was final, and He was guilty. Guilty of loving me.