Forged long ago, silken strands wrought hard upon earth’s iron anvil, heated within a furnace of trial and pain they yet forge a bridge between our worlds, a veiled link so thin and sheer it cannot be seen by human eye; only hands of faith take hold and dare cross the chasm below.
I wrought it of My blood and sinews, I who had no blood, who knew naught of pain or travail till earthly hands seized and drove in nails. I was pierced long ere that by the hate, envy and strife, searing My spirit like the pain tore through My flesh … they still do.
I left behind a trail of blood for others to follow, not in sadness but in joy. The silken cords remain, as lifelines they dangle just within reach.
Love was always there from the beginning and shall be there also when time closes and all that you know here ends. Love is a part of Us, part of Our being. When We made man in Our image We made him to love, to watch over, to care for creation. Man was born to love.
Watch a child, how it seeks to love and be loved. Yet they strive against it, they fear the pain, the humbling; but did I not humble Myself to become a man? Did I not hang naked upon a cross for all to see and jeer at? Did I not pay the price of humility?
Without humility there can be no love, the heart cannot be bared. The unprotected beating heart must unveil its secrets to another or there can be no love, no intimacy. There can be lust, but not love. Love lays itself open to ridicule, to hurt, to pain – as did I. Yet without love life is an empty shell, a husk. Anything worth something costs and the price of love is often pride, to trust another into those hidden secret parts.