Growing up as a preachers kid, I have very fond memories of Easter. The church where my Dad pastored always held a Good Friday service that I can remember vividly, even now. The most memorable part being when we would walk up the front, as one would do to receive communion, but on Good Friday, my father would also place a nail in our palm. A nail like the one that was driven into the hands of our innocent Christ.
But my father didn’t just gently place the nail in our palm. He applied pressure. Just enough pressure to make you flinch. And he would say “This is how much He loves you.”Read More