It Wasn't The Nails

Suffering is a part of life, and I say
But sometimes I just wish the suffering would go away
Pain seems so useless, its purpose is so hard to find
When I'm in pain I'm often abrupt, rude & unkind

But Jesus had much more pain than I ever will;
His suffering was the way he chose my sins to kill
He died of lack of blood and lack of enough air
Into his lungs, and to me it seems unfair,

To die for my sins on his cross up there
It wasn't the nails that held Christ to the cross;
It was his love for us that put him at a loss;
For air to breathe and blood to flow

And in the end, for his life to go
My pain has purpose when I unite my pain,
With Christ's pain on the cross which was for my gain;
Gain of forgiveness of my sins on my soul

And for other's sins, too, to make us all whole
So I'll offer up my pain for others, and not complain
For my suffering may help them repent and not sin again
Suffering is a part of life, I know, and I say

This poem is about: 
Me

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