"He was oppressed and He was afflicted, Yet He opened not His mouth; He was led as a lamb to the slaughter, And as a sheep before its shearers is silent, So He opened not His mouth."
Isaiah 53:7 NKJV
You were wounded for my transgression, crushed for my iniquities, striped for my healing. But why did You keep silent? Could not have a whimper released an ounce of discomfort from the ocean of anguish? Could not a sigh have lightened that mountain load of pain? Yet You opened not Your mouth.
Nothing escaped You. You kept all the horror, all the darkness, all the turmoil. And You ran them out in Yourself.
And so the turmoil I now feel inside, the darkness I see around, the horrors flooding my senses, they cannot stay with me. For You have taken everything upon Yourself.
"The Lord has laid upon Him the iniquity of us all."
Could it be? Has it been? What then is this I feel? What then is this I see? Are they not illusions? Are they just as real as the threats of the devil? Yes, they are but mirages of a desert, a desert squeezed dry of its dryness.
You were oppressed and afflicted, and You opened not Your mouth. So that I can open my mouth to cry out to Your Father, who is now my Father. My wretched flesh refuses to admit the reality my spirit has been born into. But yet, I shall trudge on, upon this sand that You say are green grass of mine, along the lonely road which You say You will never leave me nor forsake me, into the unknown where You have set out a path for me. Is this faith? I don't know. I only know what You say of me. And, I hope, I know You.