There is something in the account of Jesus' time on the cross that has always bugged me. Part of me hesitates to be so crass as to say that something about the most amazing expression of sacrificial love in the history of the universe actually "bugs me." Yet, the fact remains. Something about the account of Jesus on the cross just bugs me.
There is an unanswered question that I've been lugging around for years. I've been in a church service almost every Sunday of my life. I was born on a Sunday and on the next Sunday my mom took me to church. I rarely miss a weekend and I've never missed an Easter. I've racked up over three decades of hearing and giving Easter sermons. In that time, I can't remember a single person who resolved this nagging question.
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