Last week my son built a bird house at cub scouts. He was beyond thrilled with the project. He used great enthusiasm as he grabbed his hammer and began to pound in the nails. His face had a look of determination. It was harder than he expected to get the nails to go in the wood.
For one piece of wood, he prepositioned the nails and tapped them in ever so slightly before put the wood in place and began to hammer.
He started with the nail at the top of the wood. With his right hand and all the force he could muster, he hit the nail.
His left hand that was holding the bottom of the hammer went right into the bottom nail.
His face displayed a look of surprise and pain.
He grabbed that hand and squeezed it.
I rushed to him.
My son was in pain.
This morning I participated in a prayer vigil at my church. At one of the prayer stations, there were nails. I held a nail in my hand and thought about the price that was paid.
I picked up the hammer. It was heavy in my hands. I hammered the nail into a board.
The sound of hammering echoed in the empty church.
My eyes filled with tears as sadness took over my emotions.
I cannot imagine the pain.
I cannot imagine seeing my son pierced by nails. I was humbled remembering how my son's self-inflicted pain bothered me.
The hammer and nail at the prayer vigil were powerful reminders of the pain that was endured for me. They were powerful tools to move my heart and focus my mind on the price that was paid.
What an amazing love from the Father!