When I think of the crown of thorns, I often think of the man who wove that crown. I think of how those thorns must have pierced his own flesh. His wounds would still have been healing on that third day when Christ rose.
When I think of the man who wove the crown of thorns, I think of gossip. The thorns of gossip pierce the hearts and souls of those who whisper, in addition to those of whom they speak.
Something to think about, next time.
Feeling a bit poetic tonight, I wanted to share this…
Weaving a crown.
A crown to mock and ridicule.
Bloodied and torn.
Placing the crown.
The crown of the King of Kings.
Entombed, the King of Kings.
Ascending, setting free.
Wreathed in mockery and ridicule.