Isaiah 53:2-6, The Message

The servant grew up before God—a scrawny seedling,
a scrubby plant in a parched field.
There was nothing attractive about him,
nothing to cause us to take a second look.
He was looked down on and passed over,
a man who suffered, who knew pain firsthand.
One look at him and people turned away.
We looked down on him, thought he was scum.
But the fact is, it was our pains he carried—
our disfigurements, all the things wrong with us.
We thought he brought it on himself,
that God was punishing him for his own failures.
But it was our sins that did that to him,
that ripped and tore and crushed him—our sins!
He took the punishment, and that made us whole.
Through his bruises we get healed.
We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost.
We've all done our own thing, gone our own way.
And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong,
on him, on him.

It's not Good Friday yet, but tonight I was aware of my complaining and my "pity party" more than ever as I read these verses about Christ's suffering. I've given two of my vices up for Lent. Two meager sacrifices that I've given up in order to make more of an effort to understand and appreciate what Jesus went through for me. It's been just over a month and I'm already moving towards the "diet" explanation rather than sharing why I'm fasting. I'm already caught up with my trivial day-to-day unimportantances (I just made up that word) instead of trying to keep an eternal perspective. And now, I read these verses above, and I'm ashamed. This is what Good Friday is about, this is what every day should be about -- realizing how unworthy we are and just how worthy God thinks we are.