So much of Easter is spent focusing on Jesus’s broken body, and rightly so. It paints the most graphic picture. It is vivid. It is gory. It is detailed. It is physical.
We can see the physical stuff with our own eyes. We can use our five senses to sympathize what it must have been like: the nails, the thorn, the blood. Part of us winces in pain when the story is told. We gently run our fingers over our wrists and imagine where the holes in Jesus’ hands must have been and how much weight they had to hold.

But today, I can’t stop thinking about Jesus’ broken heart.

I can’t stop thinking about the part of Jesus that can only be seen with the heart of someone who’s felt the agony of being alone. The weight of the pain and loneliness and rejection he was forced to suffer.

It’s not like one group of people hated Him. It’s not like one section of society hated Him. It’s not like one clique chose not to invite Him out to lunch. The whole world hated Him. Deeply, deeply hated.

The whole world mocked Him, the whole world cast Him aside. The whole world gossiped about Him, and gawked at Him, and left Him out to dry. He didn’t belong with the elites. He didn’t belong with the religious. He was the ultimate outcast. He was the ultimate outsider. He was the ultimate exiled.

He was there to help them, and all they did was hurt Him.

He had one, small band of followers and on the night before his death, even they abandoned Him. Even they denied Him. Even they threw their friend/teacher/brother under the bus during his darkest hour. All He asked was for them to stay awake and pray with Him, and they couldn’t do it. Then when the time came, they straight-up deserted Him.

At His absolute lowest, He was alone.

Do you know why the Lord is close to the brokenhearted? Because on that day, in that hour, He was brokenhearted. He must have been.

When you feel left out, when you feel unappreciated, unliked, unpopular and misunderstood, cling to Jesus. When you feel like people have disappointed you.

When you feel like people have taken who you truly are and twisted it. When you feel unfairly treated. When you feel unjustly picked on. When you feel like there is no one you can turn to, cling to Jesus.

Cling to the man whose body was bruised, whose limbs were torn, whose heart was trampled on for you and for me. Cling to the man who gets it because He’s been there and He’s done that.

Don’t walk, don’t dally, don’t drag your feet. Run to Jesus’ arms and when you get there, don’t let go. Pray for His unending mercy and grace and love to wash over you and spill into you: every nook, every cranny, every deep and hurting hole.

The world may not get you. The world may not accept you. The world may not like you. The world may not include you in their party of who’s who and what’s what and where’s where.

But that’s OK, my friend. Take heart. They didn’t like Him, either. He wasn’t made for this world, and neither are you.

Originally appeared on Amy Weatherly