The Fragrant Cross

One night while in worship, I was caught up into Jesus body as it hung on the cross. I in Him, Him in I. The weight, the agony, the stretching tearing sound of silence with intermittent wails echoing in the soulish realm around. On the verge of grief induced asphyxiation, a light like an arrow shot through out of our eyes. A light that saw Into the purpose and promise.

We gasped, inhaling a fragrance, a deep intoxicating yet familiar scent intermingled with dried blood. The fragrance of the Nard that Mary had smashed in recklessly extravagant adoration, drenching Him with the fragrance of her sacrifice.

We gasped again, the fragrance of the humility of worship, still lingering, a fresh reminder to Jesus of the living waters already pouring from Marys heart in the form of Nard. That which cost her everything given without hesitation for the future price that He would pay. The beauty and honor of serving the Servant of all. Loving on the Person of Love.  

We gasped again, from the light from His eyes we saw every Mary that ever was, that is, that still is to come. HE is the One that covers All. He was, and is and is to come. He surrendered His spirit into the arms of the Father, while holding sin, and the curse in His own body; in order to punish it. He snatched us from the grip of time, re-uniting us with our Eternal Father by His blood. Displaying us to the unseen realm as Begotten. Resuscitated in His Breath.

When He died we died, as He lives we live. As He is so are we. 

The victorious fragrance of the Cross. The sweet fragrance of Christ.  


The Aroma of the Overcomer.  

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