Scene of reckoning;
Calvary's painted in a bloody slaughterous hue -
O, the mood of anarchy,
Dark as the pool of sin mortals wallow in,
Yet compellingly touching,
As the saviour's love-filled lamb-like sacrifice,
Offering no resistance to the casts of injustice well orchestrated by the Sanhedrin,
Turning Jesus over to Pilate while cunningly modifying their religious charges,
To political ones - sedition and claiming Him to be a king in opposition to Caesar;
And gaining from the Roman Empire, a capital sentence..
How cowardly it would have been,
If Christ hadn't committed himself to His words:
" Greater love has no one than this,
than to lay down one's life for his friends .. "
He never wanted this course!
But what is happiness,
If our course,
No matter how dangerous,
Fails to consist in the perfectly woven strands of responsibility!
(Talk about the knot in our stomach)
Would His character have been completely,
Out of character?
Wanting to do what is pleasing to the spirit,
But being flagged down by the weakness housing it!
How cowardly it would have been,
If He had chosen to act in rebellion,
Develop cold feet halfway down Calvary -
His rightful path to greatness,
What if he had sneered at the script,
Mock the nobility of his role,
Betray his part,
And slur all his lines!
Would that have ruefully distort,
Not just the frequency of His workmanship,
But also the motives behind his rhetorics,
" ... to seek and save the lost ..."
Would you have played along with this half-hearted fiasco,
The snub of a Savior- in -fugitive!
I know I wouldn't!
And neither my silence nor my speech,
Would have been written down,
But if idly asked to speak,
My speech would obviously not disguise my thoughts!
Our freedom right now would have been at the bottom of a very dark pit,
Sniffling the dust of shame -
What a dishonourable name -
Soliciting mercy at the feet of the law which presumably,
We were supposed to be delivered from,
As grace muddled in a hopeless state of terror!
Our freedom would not even be in existence;
In fact, the law would put on a smirk,
While delivering countless scourge,
At our delectable body of sin!
Our current state : ABANDONED!
Abandoned by the 'runaway redeemer',
Left to grapple with the weight of sin,
And the rich color of its stain!
" What can wash away my stain,
Nothing but the blood of Jesus ... "
(🎶)
Our freedom consisted,
In His ability to selflessly choose death,
And just as easily extinguishing His hot embered mortal desires,
Then committing to this decision :
" My father if there's no other way, then I must suffer ... " He sorrowfully expressed.
A crown of thorns on His head -
When He had nothing more to loose,
He became the labyrinth of the universe,
The soul of everything :
"... that at His feet all knee will bow ..."
When He ceased to be who He was -
The flogging made him a canvas,
The whip like an artistic brush on His heaving back,
Skillfully damaging,
Rather meticulously painting, His earthen body,
With the vigour of Leonardo da Vinci,
And the unparalled mastery of Mia tavonatti's,
13-foot stained-glass mosaic of the crucifixion -
That the canvas of our lives,
May remain engraved in His passionately skilled hands;
When He experienced great sadness -
Betrayed by a stray lamb from his fold,
As the rest scatter away into hiding,
Then to be denied at close quarters with His prayer partner;
I wonder,
How quick did "Hosanna in the Highest",
Turn to acrimonious chants :
" Crucify Him! "
" Crucify Him! "
Where were the 5000 men He fed,
And all the innumerable, pitiable souls He healed?
Hadn't all His spiritual food not fattened hope for their lives?
You would have thought all this miraculous workings sharpened His purpose for them!
" No health in your bones because of your sin "
Still He soldiered on to fateful Golgotha,
Putting on a determined front,
Swallowing hard as wood can be,
As if to make believe the destination ahead was brighter ...
He understood that He was free to choose His destiny,
But He couldn't disown His purpose,
He had to lose that I may gain,
He had to bleed that I may live -
No matter how sin-ridden I was,
He had to be broken that I may be made whole.
What a scene of reckoning!
A naked bloodied man hanging on a tree,
Housing cold rusty steel nails driven into guiltless hands -
The most abominable form of punishment ..
So that man lost,
In all mortal frailty,
Might be reconciled to God,
In one body,
Through the Cross.
Silentdreamer💭
