There is water somewhere in the world that ran down the body of the Word Himself as John, His cousin, baptized Him. No doubt it is water still, uncherished by man, known only by the Author of this story. Drops were chosen to serve as His tears beside Jerusalem, more were chosen to wait in His side for the tip of a Roman spear. They burst forth and completed their poetic calling, a flourish in the story, a picture within a picture."
Sunday, July 17, 2011
From N. D. Wilson's little treasure, entitled Notes from the Tilt-a-Whirl: