Thus it goes.
He didn't accept any shortcuts. He didn't take the vinegar. He didn't die easy. He didn't do it in private, where He could scream and cry and be less embarassed. He didn't shy away. He did it. He accepted death.
He thought there was good reason to. And if Jesus thinks it is worth dying for people, then I have to help and love people too. He thought I was worth dying for.
He gave his old family a new family. I got a new family too. He went to God, and I get to go to God too. He did everything.
I could spend pages rhapsodizing about this but honestly, what could I say that hasn't been said? It is finished. The price was paid. I am welcomed back to God because of this. Nothing else really matters.
It is finished, perhaps, but the story isn't. But soon.