Three crosses in my weeds. God sent His son to be among the weeds. When Christ died, He did not have a preacher to his right and a fabulous Christian singer to his left. He had two thieves next to him. My human nature has more in common with the weeds and the thieves than it does with anything else, yet, Christ died for me. "Amazing love. How can it be?" That Christ would die for me. I muse on that subject this Sunday morning.