The Cross

Rugged wood
Full of splinters made by nails driven into His flesh
Blood soaked from His wounds
The odors of dried blood and human misery
Darkness overcomes the day
The veil is torn
Forsaken; alone

Separated from the Father by the weight of my sin
Glad obedience to the will of the Father
Deserted by friends and followers; only a few there with His mother
Gasping for air
Giving pardon and hope
Offering Himself in my place
“It is finished!”

Taken from the cross
Wrapped in cloth
Laid in a borrowed grave
Sorrow  and fear among the disciples
The women arise early and go
An empty tomb!
Where is He?

Run and tell
Looking in wonder
Waiting. . . Waiting
Suddenly He is with them again
More teaching, more miracles
Glorified body
He goes to the Father

News spreads
Followers gather
Miracles happen
Persecution and death to His followers
The Church is born
A new covenant created
Time passes

The gospel covers the world
Non-believers scoff
The eastern sky splits and He returns
He gathers those who believe and follow
He destroys evil
His bride dwells with Him in peace
Everlasting worship in His presence

I look at the cross, see Jesus there
And repent
Forgiven, I see the hope of glory
Tears of gratitude stream
I see the cross, empty, and know I am His
Whatever He asks, I will do
Now and forever