Yet here He is: the eternal Word, the Voice of the Father which always accomplishes that which He desires (in this case, an abysmal failure in the eyes of the world). He is the One Who, unassailable, was the agent of our creation by the will of the Father, a Father Who has always spoken nothing else but Him. He has, in flesh He made intrinsic to Himself, thirsted, screamed, twisted, and drowned on the Wood.
Should God so desire, I will see the beauty of the Lord's resurrection, I will know the festal shout. I will not be checking back in until that time. I wish all who will celebrate the Lord's resurrection this coming Sunday a joyous feast, and all those who will move through His three-day Pascha of Cross, Grave, and Resurrection a brightly sorrowful time of mourning as we wait for our Comfort.