I’m trying to spend more time in the quiet this week, Holy Week. I’ve finished one life-changing book and exchanged it for another and I’ve let the words wash over me, rest in my soul and change my thinking and my heart, all to help me contemplate these days that loomed before him, that contained the pain and the purpose of his life. His life for mine.

And today, driving in a silent car and just thinking on it (why is that so hard to do?!), my heart felt the weight of a simple truth that means everything.

He turned toward Jerusalem.

He turned toward the holy city that would be the site of his seeming demise. Head bound for thorns, back bound for whips, side bound for sword, hands and feet bound for nails. He knew.

He turned toward Jerusalem, knowing, and he began to walk. And with every step, he thought me.

There are not words enough in the world for this kind of love.