At the bottom of the cross, I look up and stare into the face of a stranger to me.
I see his torment, his suffering and his grief.
Not for himself, but for strangers like me.
Who asked him to bear this cross, this suffering, this pain for me?
A stranger who I have never met in flesh, but in my heart I know.
Who loves me unconditionally and is always there for me.
Who asked him to do this, to do this for me?
Deep down inside I know it was me.