I'm a picker, yep, you heard me....a picker. A wedgie picker, a nose picker, and a face picker.  A week ago, I looked in the mirror and the pores on my face looked like the skin of a grapefruit and I thought..whoa, where did those come from? Were they always there? Were they always that big? For the last three days, I have picked and PICKED at my face which has left it red, bruised, dry, and just plain gross.  I know it probably looks worse to me since it's my face, but I thought for a moment, no one will recognize me because of all the picking I just did....and during my pouting episode, Jesus' battered face came into my mind. Jesus, who was beaten so badly, the skin of his face and body were literally ripped off, He was barely recognizable. As I stood there, I almost wept. How selfish I have been to care so much about my stupid pores, when Jesus endured so much pain I can't even fathom. It's so easy to get caught up in myself, to be busy with getting Easter dinner and desserts prepared, that I forget to stop and really ponder what Jesus went through.  He died on the cross for you and me...He picked us! Thank you Lord for your reminder!

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