There are days that spin out of control, when things for which I am responsible do not get done, when people who count on me are greatly disappointed, when friends or loved ones hurt so deeply that my words and comforting gestures are insignificant and ineffectual, when a trusted friend pushes a painful button of betrayal, revealing yet another shortcoming in him and in me, bitter words spoken in the heat of the moment.

Can it get any worse?

Battered by the day, in my mind I see two prizefighters in the ring, circling, jabbing, weaving and feinting. Finally, one lands a brutal blow to the head of his opponent ... you've seen slow motion footage of just such a blow. The head is turned, pushed back and to the side -- eyes are rolled back into his head, sweat flies from his brow and blood from his mouth -- and where the glove impacts his face, his cheeks are smashed inward. It is a gruesome picture of punishment and pain.

There are days that end with me feeling something like that. Have you been there?

Finally, I drop to my knees to cry out to God seeking comfort and relief from my overwhelming pain.

My Lord gently reminds me, with slow-motion footage, of the two-inch thorns that impaled His scalp and forehead, the Crown roughly shoved into place, blood running down His face ... of each deep slashing wound as the jagged-edged whip cuts again and again through the flesh of His back to the bones, hands tied above Him, head thrown back in agony, huge drops of sweat and blood flying through the air ... of that climactic, weakened walk to Calvary, bearing the weight of a huge timber on His brutalized shoulders until pain and blood loss cause Him to fall to His knees ... of being splayed roughly on the timbers, spikes hammered through flesh, between bones at each of His straining hands, knees pushed upward and bent awkwardly to the side, to allow for yet another spike to be driven through both feet ... the bloodied wooden cross raised and slammed into place ... the gasps for a simple breath of air as lungs and airways are crushed by His own hanging weight ... finally, at the moment of death, the soldier's spear jabbing straight up, through His side ... to His Heart ... a final flood of water and blood.

On my knees, through my tears, He allows me to see the reality of my struggles in stark contrast with those of my Saviour.

Recently, I became aware of a couple of facts concerning the incredible intricacy and inner workings of our human bodies, that startled me: each day our body manufactures nearly 200 million new red blood cells to replace the ones that have completed their work ... I also discovered that our body holds approximately 250 billion red blood cells, constantly moving, transporting nutrients and oxygen while cleansing us from impurities.

I realized that as Christ suffered for me that day 2000 years ago, as His blood dripped, then ran freely, finally flooding onto the earth, He shed enough blood cells for each one of us.