Come with me to the hill of Calvary. Watch as the soldiers press a knee against a forearm and a spike against a hand. As the soldier lifts the hammer to strike it, think about the hand that received the nail. The fist doesn’t clench—the moment isn’t aborted.

A mallet drove a nail into the hand, not just of a carpenter, but into the hand of God. Fingers that formed Adam out of clay and furrowed truth into tablets felt the pain of crucifixion. The same hand that stilled the seas stilled your guilt. And as the hands of Jesus opened for the nail, the doors of heaven opened for you.

From He Chose the Nails

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