Words cannot describe how I feel, yet I cannot keep it contained inside a heart that will burst if something is not said . . .

I crush the nails into His hands, and with every piercing blow He whispers,

"I love you."

Crush

"I love you."

Crush

"I love you."

Crush

"I love you."

But my ears are deafened with the resounding crack of nail against hammer. I finish and arrogantly stand up taking pride in my work. The cross on which He is lain is stood up and He limply hangs there. I then smile and mock this 'King of the Jews'. "Ha! Pretender, are you so weak that you cannot save your own life? Who are you when you do all these miracles yet. . ."

Those eyes. Those penetrating eyes. They weren't full of anger, or fear, or confusion. No, they were filled with love and pity.

Pity? Love? I looked down at my hands covered with blood. I looked back up at Him.

Pity? Love??? No, no!! He cannot possibly love me! After all I have done?! I fall to my knees and cry uncontrollably. What have I done??

It has been years since that day, but I still stumble and fall.

I fall.

"I love you."

I fail.

"I love you."

I stumble.

"I love you."

This time, there is no nail pounding to drown out His whispers. Tears flow from my eyes as He picks me back up.

This is my God.