They thought he was cursed…

They thought He was cursed.

They looked at Him—bloodied, bruised and assumed it was justice.

They thought God had turned against Him.

That maybe He was being punished for some hidden sin. That maybe He had it coming.

But they didn’t know.

They didn’t see.

They didn’t understand…

That it was my grief

that bent His back beneath that cross.

It was my sorrow

that made His knees buckle.

It was my heartbreak

that tore His soul like a veil.

He carried the weight that crushed me.

He felt the emptiness that wakes me in the night.

He held the ache that no words can soothe,

the one I hide from others,

the one that surfaces in silence,

the one I mask with smiles and busyness.

He didn’t just die for my sin,

He suffered through my suffering.

He absorbed every silent scream.

Every stifled sob.

Every betrayal.

Every funeral.

Every prayer that was met with silence.

Every child not held.

Every diagnosis.

Every memory I wish I could erase.

He felt it all.

Not as a detached Savior in a clean robe,

but as the God who bled.

As the Man who wept.

As the Lamb who bore the unbearable.

And He didn’t flinch.

He didn’t walk away.

He stepped inside my sorrow,

wrapped Himself in it,

let it break Him open

so that I could finally breathe again.

They thought He was being punished.

But He was healing me.

They thought He was cursed.

But He was carrying me.

They thought He was afflicted by God.

But He was acquainted with my grief.

The sobs I’ve buried under stoicism—He heard them. The tears I didn’t let fall—He caught them.

The weight I’ve tried to carry alone—He bore it on His back.

He wasn’t just crushed by God’s wrath.

He was crushed by compassion.

This is not a distant Savior.

This is not a God unfamiliar with pain.

This is the God who says,

“I know. I know what that felt like. I felt it too.”

He bore my grief so I wouldn’t be buried by it.

He carried my sorrow so I could collapse in His arms instead of under the weight.

He was wounded so I could be held.

Bruised so I could be healed.

Pierced so I could be seen.

Forsaken so I would never be alone again.

And when I cry now, I cry to a God who has cried too. And when I break now, I fall into the hands of One who was broken for me.

He felt it all.

And He still chooses me.