Driven, October 21, 2018 Sunday Tidbit

Cold steel in my hands, thin, pointed, with a glint of light shining off its tip. Sharp yet, dulled, in my hands it was safe, no danger loomed. In my hand I could explore, wonder, and imagine.

In his hand it was driven deep into his flesh. Through his open hands and into the wood. Through his open hands, open, vulnerable, and willing. Willing to let it be driven into his body. He felt the excruciating pain. He saw the blood through the sweat which blurred his vision. The glint of the light shone from the nail. There was no safety. Here was no wonder, no imagination. There was the cold hard driving of that nail into his hand.

He was vulnerable, willing and open, he held that hand open to accept all sin and the nails were driven.