A Thought on His Death…

I often wish that the magnitude of the events

Of the cross

Were more poignant to those that claim to be

Found when they were once lost.


The Christ-like.

Many of whom, unfortunately, cannot fathom

His death and, so, do not live Christ-like.

“He died for me.”

Often said without belief so there is no grounds

For faith as this empty phrase

Becomes a quiet echo in the caverns of our busy

Lives and so never affects our ways.

I often feel… Nah. I KNOW that our heavenly father looks on

Our lives at times and, deep down, hurts

As he sees His relationship with His children

Reduced to Sundays, unable to bless in completion

Because it’s ok to skip Praise and Worship when

We make it to church.

But never late for work. Christ gets the rain check

As we quickly forget who it was that

Gave us our paycheck.

And please, do not consider this a finger-pointing ceremony.

I can assure you, my times of speaking about Christ will

ALWAYS be a personal testimony.

And, so, I ask you all to imagine where we would be

If Christ kept our relationships to one day in the week

And put our cries for help to the back of his mind when,

At our lowest point, his presence we did seek.

But it’s true.

He died for me and he died for you.

And, going through the process, died a death second

To none because he loved us as second to none.

Never an option for Salvation’s adoption

But, rather, royal daughters and royal sons.

I said he died a death second to none.

Jesus said, “I and my Father are one.”

My God Clothed himself in flesh and witnessed the death

Of his only begotten son.

Yet, we continue to Chat to him in Snaps, claiming

Our lives are too busy to talk to him. That’s prayer.

But, then, we’ll tell those needing to be saved

“God is all around us!” Ok. So how do you not speak to someone

You claim is always there?!

His Word becomes mere clichĂ© as we can’t find time

To put our Face in his Book

But there is top speed to the leather-bound pages

When life unsettles us with an uppercut and right hook.

I’m sure I’m alone in this conviction

But I pray regularly for the Lord to forgive me when I

Display Prada Christianity, with its limited functionality but great look.

Merely aesthetic.

To forgive me everytime that I forget he was wounded

For my transgressions and bruised for my iniquity.

Beaten and hair pulled from his face, as he stared 2000

Years into the future and saw me living wickedly.

And STILL remained humble. Unable to stop loving me,

He took on my ugliness, marring his own essence.

Even treating me like a brother because he wanted me to

Look beautiful in both our Fathers’ presence.

Then he was whipped.

And, with every sub-dermal lash, he would gasp

And clench his hands, as he held me with the tightest grasp…

“I will never leave you, nor forsake you.”

And then he would yell a cry that carried through time

And it wasn’t so we would know how it feels

But, rather, for us to know that by His stripes

We can be healed.

That’s love.

While our Christianity becomes a chore

And the option of giving up has us torn,

Imagine how it would be if Christ gave up

And said, “Here, can you wear this crown of thorns?”

Instead, with nails through his hands and feet,

His open back grated against that rough, wooden cross,

Shedding the blood that saves us and allows us

To escape being lost.

Giving me access to the Kingdom, offering me

An invite that only requires me to sign with Faith,

No pressure or stress.

But I stared back for so long, holding this invite,

That became an empty form of godliness.

The added weight of my sin on his shoulders, he hung there

As paralysis set in and the struggle to breathe tore

His respiratory system apart.

The added weight of my sin on his shoulders, he hung there

As I became responsible for Love dying of a broken heart.

Ever indebted.

He died so that I could live.

And not just live but have Life more abundantly.

He died so that WE could live.

And not just live but have Life more abundantly.

And so, I ask myself, because this IS a personal testimony.

What am I doing to pay my debt to Love?

I continue to hand over my heart to repair the one I broke.

The heart of our Father, above.


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