Meat for the Hungry

So it has come to this. Through sobs of disbelief and anguish, a strong arm supported her. She took one last gaze upward into the sweet face of the baby she cradled, the boy she nurtured, and the incredible man he had become. How can this be? His once pleasant face now swelled, distorted, bruised and bloodied from the beating. Thorns stabbed his head and his body wrenched in pain. Hanging on this cross, wooden shards relentlessly gouged his open wounds. Thick, rusty spikes gored his hands and feet. Sweat and blood-striped agony gripped him. Yet, his eyes were full of love, not anger. He nodded one last goodbye and she felt John’s nudge. She wanted to stay and protest, to scream aloud the injustice of it all, but how could she watch him die? How could God let this happen? Bewildered, she stepped back.