Emotions of a Savior

I have tried to be very mindful of Christ this Holy Week. As I have consider my savior's state, this thousands of years ago, I am overwhelmed trying to empathize with his emotions.  Crippled by humanism, he experienced them all and at a divine level as well.  I can't help but imagine the humility of washing feet, of carrying a cross, and then hanging on it.  I can't imagine the sting of betrayal, that though he knew its imminence, I am sure the bitter taste lingered in his mouth. Imagining the weight of sin seems to be the most unimaginable to me.  When I am entangled in sin, I feel spiritually heavy and worn and even physically weighty as well, but my savior carried the sins of the world remembered, known, and to come.  Good Fridays come and go with a service or, sometimes, just a thrill that there is no school, but I am trying my hardest to honor this day of sacrifice.  This unequal exchange of beauty for ashes.  This transaction of filthy rages for glistening robes of white.  I am laying down my crown. I am taking up my cross. I am following the man gave me life.  He gave me freedom. He gave me hope. He gave me salvation.
It is done. The veil is torn. Praise the one who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead.  Jesus.