, , , , ,


The silent truth of who You were,

who You are,

who You always will be

Reverberated and beat in their hearts,

Pounded through their ears as they

SCREAMED for Your death.

For You would not be the King they wanted,

the one they thought they should have.

“CRUCIFY! CRUCIFY!” they cried for Your blood,

not knowing,

not wanting to know that only Your blood could cleanse,

only Your blood could free,

and You stood in silence

until it was time to say, “I AM.”

Your back was flayed and You were nailed

and You hung for them,

You hung for me.

But as the earth trembled that night,

it trembles tonight;


waiting for Your return.

And I?

Would I have cried at Your feet?

Would I have SCREAMED for Your death?

Are You the King I begged for?

Or have I twisted the thorns to pierce Your flesh

Will I allow You to be who You are

Not insist You be the King I want?

You wrapped me in Your love,

but I clung to darkness.

You washed me from my filth,

but I ran back to wallow.

I filled myself with what would never satisfy,

Afraid of You,

of You;

Of Your purity, Your holy truth, Your silence.

You came to live


Perfecting my incomplete life,

Remaking me,

Burning out what was not pure,

Forgiving me,

Loving me even in Your death.

Make me like You,

Make me like You;

A servant willing to die so that others might know

Our Father.

Heal me that I might reach out this withered hand,

So that I might hold them, bring them to You.

Make me Yours,

Only Yours,

And make me whole within You.

For further meditation:

Romans 5, John 17