Even the Nails

April 29, 2012
I want to tell you a story about Jesus. It’s one you’ve probably never heard or thought about. But first I must tell you what I think His childhood was like. I would bet that sometimes He would scrape up against a thorn or two. Of course His mother probably worried and bandaged Him up, as all mothers do. I would think He would have admired purple cloth in the market place. He probably even climbed a rock or two. His dad was a carpenter as all who have read the story know. Thus we assume that He was around wood, nails, and people a lot. I am sure while learning His father’s trade He probably hit His finger, as we all sometimes do, but I’m sure He left out the part where you call the nail something not very nice. When Jesus died everything and everyone turned against Him. When Jesus was led to prison to await trial, the guards laughed at Him. It says they put a crown of thorns on His head. Even the thorns were against Him. The guards mocked Him and gave Him a cloth to where as a robe. The cloth He had admired so. Even the cloth was against Him. When He was sentenced to death He was forced to carry a wooden cross. Wood was some thing He had been around almost all of His life. He knew the different types of wood and how to sand off the splinters. But, His cross had not been sanded. It had splinters that eagerly tore at His skin. Even the wood was against Him. When they got there, nails were driven into His hands. Nails that He had used to build stuff as a young boy. Nails that even His father had used. Nails that held together buildings at night were He slept. Even the nails were against Him. They kept Him were He was, where the Romans wanted Him to suffer! Yes, even the nails were against Him. I guess the only comfort was the rock. The rock was what the tomb was made of, not wood, not nails. The tomb served as a door. One that closed for three days, not being able to tell of the secret within. We all know how the story ends. He rises in three days to walk the earth again. He walked past houses made of wood and nails but these were not for a bad purpose. These were to keep people warm at night. Now go back to the beginning and tell me. . . . Why did the nails turn against Him? Why did the cloth mock Him? Why did the wood hurt Him so? These things are not alive, are they? Someone had to make them do that. Who? I think we all know the answer to that question. So I’ll let you answer it in your own heart, but next time you look at a nail remember this, it’s not the item that does the evil it’s the person.





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