I'm tired and grumpy today. I'm grumpy because I'm not sleeping well. I have shoulder and neck problems so I went to see a physical therapist yesterday. I left hurting worse than when I had arrived from all his poking and prodding and twisting and testing.
Last night as I lay in bed with my arms propped up on pillows I began to pray, well whine actually, about how much I don't like to be in pain. The therapist said to not do any exercise that requires moving my arms - and that includes running. Bummer. That made me even grumpier.
As I laid there praying about my pain my mind wandered to the cross. Jesus cried blood because he knew of the pain he was about to endure. For me. Willingly. I began thinking about how much pain He must have been in. He was tortured, beaten, forced to carry a heavy wooden cross on open wounds, nails driven into his arms and legs. Not once did the Bible say that he complained. I'm pretty sure I would not allow someone to poke me with a needle in order to save someone much less what Jesus endured. Oh, sure I've given lots of blood, when I was pregnant with both my children. I endured the pain of needles for them, however, that's a mere mosquito bite compared to the pain suffered on the cross for me and you and the entire world present, and future. That's love.
My pain is nothing now that I remember Jesus and how much he loves me. My pain is temporary but his love endures forever. Yet, as I sit here in my recliner typing this with ice packs on my shoulders I still want to yell, "I don't like ice!!!"
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