My wounded Jesus,
I contemplate the pain inflicted on Your innocent body
and I am filled with shame for ever having complained
over my little crosses.
How can You continue to love us so much?
I don't deserve Your love.
I don't deserve Your mercy.
Instead, I deserve the pain and isolation You experienced in the agony in the garden for
the many times I betrayed You by choosing the
world's enticement over Your pure love.
I deserve the scourging You endured for the many
times the pleasures of the flesh, lured me away from You.
I deserve the crowning of the thorns for the many times I
dwelt on past hurts, judged others, thought of no one but myself.
My crosses that I bear are nothing compared to the cross you had
to carry to Calvary. Each step for You was brutal and agonizing.
My crosses are light because You carry the brunt of the weight,
yet, I continue to complain.
Not even knowing what You went through to save my soul makes me stop my
I deserve the pain and humiliations those barbarians
inflicted on You.
You did nothing wrong. It is I who chose to do wrong.
Yet, You continue to love me.
You did for me as You died for each one of us.
May we never take Your love or sacrifice for granted.
Jesus, I trust in You.
Jesus, I love You.