REALIZATIONS

this is more of a Good Friday entry, but i think it applies to us every day.

i wrote this poem a number of years ago. i just found it again recently and this being Easter and all, I thought I'd share it.

Realizations

I was always told that You died with Your arms stretched out open wide…

But I realize that I just can't believe that's what really happened.

The nails pierced You where a network of nerves and blood vessels collected. You arms and hands must have been gripping intensly, reacting to the excruciating pain.

Pictures of Your death were always clean, tidy and presentable…

But I realize that I can't believe that's what it really looked like.

There must have been blood splattered everywhere on the nails, on the hammer, all over Your body, all over the soldiers and perhaps even on the spectators who came to watch You die. And all that blood would've collected dirt and dust along the way. You didn't have a clean, white loincloth.

The cross decorating our church would have me think that the one You were nailed to was smooth, polished and beautiful…

But I realize that I can't even imagine that that was the way it really was.

Your cross would have been rough and filthy. There would have been many splinters. You'd be in more pain that way because nobody treats "criminals" nicely.

These realizations mean nothing to me though. They are worthless until I realize what Your actions have been telling me…

And now, once again, I see the image of those two wooden beams and I finally hear Your quiet voice, piercing my heart:

"I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you! I love you…"

i want to learn to have the faith Jesus had when He gave His life completely into the hands of the Father. i want a faith that in the face of suffering, prays for nothing else but the glory of the Father.

Jesus called out with a loud voice, "Father, into your hands I commit my spirit." When he had said this, he breathed his last.
~Luke 23:46~