On a long ago day, the King was crowned with thorns and blood, while Satan consumed the voices of the crowd. The King was scorned and beaten while his people only cheered as the crimson tears bled from his body. His wounds were getting deeper and the sky was getting darker with every passing moment. A Roman soldier grabbed the fragile man, and some rusted nails next to him. With a hammer and a loud clash, the nails went through the King's hands. The same soldier's hands grabbed another nail, and with another great force, pierced the flesh of the Christ's feet. The cross was raised from the ground and the fragile body struggled to breathe. He was struggling to hold on. Every breath was a challenge and killed him further. The beating of his heart slowed. Christ wasn't giving up quite yet though. After a shout of why, he screamed for forgiveness. Not for his own forgiveness, but forgiveness for those that beat him and nailed him to the cross for this man had done nothing wrong. He was what breathed life into the dead and carried the weak. He was the one that held the brokens' hand and he fed the hungry. And it was everyone that he helped, that pierced his flesh. He gave a gift of life and forgiveness. He gave a gift of understanding. It was he that gave me everything that I ever needed by letting the world kill him on this one day. It was a day of suffering and pain that breathed life into my body. It was nailed onto a tree on a hill called Calvary that I learned the definition of love. It was Jesus who gave me all of these gifts. It was Jesus who gave me a gift of life by living sinless and dying in agony.