Tuesday, December 6, 2011

My Tortured Son: A dramatic story.

A dramatic story:

"My son was born to die. My son was tortured.  My son was beaten beyond human limits.

My son.... My little boy who I held during the night.  My precious baby who I nursed.  I remember the labor I endured to have my first born son.   I remember watching him learn to walk. It was a time of amazement for me because I got to watch this tiny baby grow into a toddler. I remember the look on his face as he learned to take his first steps, then he learned how to run. I got to experience all the "firsts"; his first word, his first steps, his first tooth, and all the little joys in raising a baby. I comforted him when he needed me. I held him on sleepless nights.  Oh my precious baby... I didn't know the extent of your fate.

As time passed, he grew into a great young man.  I learned much from my son. He was a joy in my life. His smile, his laugh, the talks we had, and the amazement at his words as he grew and matured. He was an obedient child. I believed in his abilities and I believed in him. I loved him with all my heart. As any loving mother, I wanted to protect him from the harsh world and I would have done anything to keep him safe.

Then the time came for his ministry to begin. I fully believed in my son. However, others hated my son. They wanted him to be silenced. They got their wish.  My baby boy, now a man, was being beaten. The flesh was being ripped from back. A crown of thorns was jabbed into his head. He was disrobed and nail to wooden boards. All because he taught people to love, forgive, and they could be forgiven. People looked up and saw a man....I see a man, but I also see the tiny baby I held not long ago. The baby I had was born to die. Not die like most, but to die so others might live. My heart breaks for my son, my baby, yet my heart has peace because my son is God in the flesh.  I think he gave me this peace and strength, because he knew the heart of a woman.... he knew the love a mother has for a child.

Then his death was final. My baby was gone. The torture was over. He's no longer hurting. Three days later....my son lives. I can hug him. I can kiss him. Peace and joy are in my heart. I get just a little more time to know him on this earth. He came to save the world, to forgive sin, to love the lost, and to show the life we should live.  I am grateful to be the mother of this baby boy, now a man.

My son was born to die."

A dramatic story about the emotions of Mary, mother of Jesus.  Take time to remember the purpose of the season. To celebrate the birth that led to death that led to salvation.
From manager to cross He was born to die.
Picture credit: http://www.bereanwife.net/2008/12/that-little-babe-in-the-manger-grew-up/


  1. Beautifully done sweet one. Keep writing!

  2. Ugh...put in this context it rips my heart out. I've always felt sick to my stomach when I thought about what Jesus went through for us, but being a new mother to a baby boy I was picturing this from a mother's perspective and it's just heart wrenching. Thank you for posting this and reminding us what Christmas season is really about.