In the crowd that pushed Jesus to His death, there were a few tender souls overcome with sorrow. As I imagine the Savior carrying His cross to Calvary, I weep alongside those godly women. There's a deep reason for our tears—more profound than they knew. They mourned innocence wronged, goodness attacked, love wounded, and meekness facing death. But my heart grieves even more deeply.

It was my sins that scourged His shoulders and crowned His brow with thorns. My sins cried out, 'Crucify Him!' and laid the cross on Him. To be led to death is sorrow enough for eternity, but knowing I was His executioner is a grief beyond what tears can show. Those women had reasons for their love and sorrow, but I have even more.

Nain's widow saw her son restored, yet I have been given new life. Peter's wife's mother was healed of a fever, but I was healed of the greater plague of sin. Two of Magdalene's demons were cast out; a whole legion out of me. Mary and Martha were blessed with His visits, but He lives with me.

His mother bore His physical body, but He is formed in me as the hope of glory. Let me match the holy women in gratitude and sorrow, for I owe Him just as much. 'Let love and grief fill my heart, and my tears wash His feet. Always true in heart, let me weep for Him who died to save.'