33

He was 33 years old when He made the triumphal entry. 33 when he saw what was before Him and cried drops of blood. 33 when He was betrayed by His closest friends. 33 when He was accused of awful crimes against powerful, hateful, jealous, scared people just like us.

33 when He was arrested for no reason and was never released.

33 when He stood in front of Pilot (who could have let him go) and did not say a word in His own defense. 33 when He was flogged to the brink of death, mocked, ridiculed, bullied beyond belief, and His existence seen as the world's biggest threat.

He is love.     He is patience.       He is kindness.

He keeps no record of wrongs.

He was 33 when He was put on a cross to die a slow, excruciatingly painful death in front of His own mother. 33 when He comforted the men dying on either side of Him. 33 when He made provisions for His mother's care upon His death. 33 when He took the sins of the world He created on His shoulders. 33 when He knew it was finished.

And 33 when He rose from the grave having defeated Satan and conquered death to unite us with Him. 33 when He changed the world and all of eternity forever.

I have always thought that 33 sounded old...until now. On October 31 I will turned 33.

A new wave a gratitude has crashed over me.