First Blog, Good Friday 2020

Launching this blog on Good Friday is not just happenstance. A long time ago, I wrote a poem about Jesus’ moments on the cross, but it has been in a drawer, unseen, ever since. This year is appropriate for publishing this poem for several reasons. First the urging and encouragement of my daughter Amy: my child whose name means Beloved is now basking in the perfect and glorious love of the Master, radiant in His Presence on the other side of the curtain we call death or eternity. She passed from this life in June of 2019. Before her passing, she pushed for several things to be done, and one of them involved taping notes on my office walls urging me to “Send out words” to honor God’s gifts.

Amy taught me a lot about obedience and courage. As a devout coward, I have struggled to start this blog with its inherent vulnerability to the world outside myself.

Second, this Easter season is certainly different from any other Easter of my life, and it is a time of profound significance in the lives of people everywhere. It has been a time of fear and loss, of isolation and uncertainty. Into such a world, Jesus came. Intentionally. He walked hot, dusty roads instead of moving at the speed of thought. He told eternal truth to people, many of whom didn’t listen or understand. He went from birth in a barn to death on a cross, and it was all by choice, for us. When He came out of that tomb victorious forever, that was for us, too, and so many of us don’t know that or accept it. The story really needs to be told, as often as possible, everywhere.

Herewith, a moment from the Story:

Good Friday, A.D. 33

The gospel author Mark, in chapter 15 of his book, tells of a moment in history which seems, sadly, to get lost under the Easter eggs.

Push all of today aside; accept the challenge to let Christ live, truly, within and before you for a moment; then imagine how it was with Jesus on the cross…

MESSIAH?
NOT THIS ONE!
TO GOLGOTHA –
TAKE HIM, KILL HIM!
 
In His heaven,
Did God weep
For His belov’d Son
As the march
To the cross
Was so cruelly begun?
 
Did He ask,
“Is man worth
Each spike of agony?”
Did Jesus,
God-Man,
Answer,”Yes”?
 
How could God bear
To watch –
To be there
As they spat,
And they tortured –
Are we so dear
As that?
 
The insults,
The torment
Weren’t even the worst
That He suffered –
No,
The worst was that instant
At death’s mercy
When
Jesus-God
Left
Jesus-Man
So Jesus-Man could die.
 
He left,
And, in the void
Came sin.
What else to do but cry?
His words –
We read them,
Still, today:
“My God, my God,
Why have You
Forsaken me?”
 
Poor man,
Who died
On Calv’ry’s tree.
Poor shell of Christ –
Like you, like me,
He was hurt
And afraid
And alone.
 
Can we just read
Of Jesus’ death
Without a grateful love?
If we just read
Without our hearts,
Don’t we, from us,
Remove Him?
 
And isn’t Man
Still hurt,
Still afraid,
Still alone,
Without God?